The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (Fact/Fiction)

 This tale is one not often spoken of, in fact so infrequently has it been told that even some close to me (including family members) have probably never been aware of it.

At least until now.

And part of it is definitely fact but there is also a part that remains and will remain questionable, uncertifiable, not able to be documented or proved due to the fact that principles involved have passed away and so leave a part that cannot be authenticated.

Let's begin with the fact part.

I had never considered myself as an "academic." True, I passed through those early grades and then college and seminary grad school rather easily. However, given the choice between settling in with some classic tome or playing a couple of games of pinochle, one could easily find me at the card table.

However, evidently others, certainly some in high places, saw things differently.

And John Dearden saw a potential need to fill.

The winds of change were clearly in the air in the Catholic Church and John Dearden was definitely impacted by them. In his wisdom he realized that work would be needed to enable the folk in the pews to enter wholeheartedly into the spirit of the dawning age.

One critical area to be addressed was that of liturgy. The Fathers of the Second Vatican Council had made this the number one item on their agenda, acknowledging that reform was needed and long overdue. As a result new tools, books and documents were being prepared and needed to be studied, understood and introduced in such a way that the average Joan (or Joe) would be at home in this strange territory. (I might be inclu=ined to say"new" territory but there really was nothing new emerging. Rather, we were rediscovering our ancient roots.)

At any rate a handful from the Archdiocese of Detroit were tapped to engage in advanced studies, the plan being that this would provide a resource pool for introducing the coming books and documents to the Church of Detroit.

I was among that handful chosen and selected for liturgical studies at the University of Notre Dame.

I accepted the call with one very important and strong stipulation.

I would be allowed to remain in parish ministry.

I believed then and still do today that far too many get advanced education and then get removed from the common folk. They wind up in office jobs or teaching positions with hardly any regular contact with real people and their lives. I did not want that. I would resource the Archdiocese. I would teach when called on. I would do whatever might prove necessary but all of this just as long as I would never be removed from the daily life of a parish faith community.

Agreed!

So the assurance was given to me.

And off I went for graduate studies in liturgical theology at the University of Notre Dame (where, by the way, I decided not to ever try out for the football team!)

And four years later the mission was accomplished and I was full time back home, diploma in hand. Actually, diploma was not yet in hand when I returned home. I skipped the commencement and had the parchment mailed to me. But I was back home.

And in only a matter of days I was called Downtown for a special meeting.

And at that meeting I was informed that in a couple of months I would be receiving a new assignment. Of course, it would be an office job, heading a department Downtown.

That promise of my remaining full time in a parish? Well, forget it. There was a greater need. And I had a couple of months to get used to the idea.

But I also have at least a little knowledge of things like politics and bureaucracy and how they work.

I left that meeting, traveled across the street and down the block into another set of Archdiocesan offices. And there I asked what parishes might be open and looking for a full time pastor. My thinking? If I got a new assignment, it would be guaranteed for six years and no one could move me for that amount of time without my full agreement.

And I also figured that one department would not know what the other was doing until, hopefully, it was too late.

And sure enough!

A parish was open and looking for a pastor and I could apply even though I was still so very, very young. And I applied. When the time came, I got the phone call.

I had been appointed pastor of St. Clement of Rome Parish in Romeo, Michigan.

And by Canon Law I would become untouchable for the next six years unless I agreed to move!

And the phone call that I received shortly after getting this news was from a different Archdiocesan official who, needless  to say, was not a very happy camper. Such language! And from a cleric!

And that is the fact part of this story.

Now the undocumented part.

Well, for some time after there were still movements to undo the assignment. It was a sort of "get him out of that parish and back down here where he belongs!" situation.

And then suddenly - silence.

The movement stopped and I was left in peace.

It was only some years later, too long after these events to document or verify, that I was told, "Did you know that John Dearden intervened?" He finally stepped in and told those officials whose plans had been upset that they should just leave me alone.

"If that is what he wants, if that is what he believes he is called to, just leave him alone!"

Fact? Fiction?

Don't know.

What I do know is that it sounds like John Dearden and in the months and years after, I joined the adjunct seminary faculty, gave many a presentation throughout the Archdiocese, resourced in the area of liturgy in numerous ways, but never left parish life and the real, day to day faith community.

And eventually, someone else was groomed for that position that I managed to avoid. And life has gone on.

And we have all somehow survived!

And that is fact!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (I See You!)

 It was not quite four years after Iron John Dearden arrived in Detroit than he was off in 1962 to Rome for the first session of the Second Vatican Council. Sessions of that Council lasted until its conclusion in 1965, reshaping so much of the Catholic worldview.

And somewhere, somehow within that very process good, old Iron John also began to melt.

I can find no other way to describe it.

By the end of the workings of Vatican II Iron John was no more.

Instead we found ourselves dealing with a man who had, somehow (call it the working of the Spirit,) been radically transformed.

Instead of iron cold, steely, hard and inflexible, John Dearden was now warm, approachable, engaging and, well, downright pastoral.

He was actually a joy to speak with, to listen to, to learn from, to be with.

So amazing was the transformation in this man that he was the one whom his peer bishops from all of the United States elected as their first president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops! His hand would guide the Church of the United States through the often unfamiliar waters of the post-Vatican II Era.

It was this John Dearden that I finally had aa chance to meet, greet, sit and speak with and even get to know somewhat personally. Until this time my dealings with him were what might best be called remote - singing or assisting in other ministerial ways at services.

And the really up close but still frankly impersonal moment - my ordination to the priesthood. His hands anointed me. His hands rested on my head. His hands clasped mine as I was commissioned to set Word and Eucharist before God's People.

But my up close and personal meeting with John Dearden did not come until a few years later.

By this time I was in my second assignment, a parish on Detroit's Eastside. I also had a couple of years of graduate studies in liturgical theology at the University of Notre Dame under my belt. I was becoming a liturgical resource for the Archdiocese of Detroit.

And that is when my first one on one came with John Dearden.

Until that time we had never met up close. Never spoken other than, perhaps, a word or phrase of courteous greeting. To John Dearden I was just one more face in that crowd of so many who constituted a part of the Church of Detroit.

One more nameless face!

Or so I thought!

He had come to our parish for Confirmations and, as was expected, there was dinner beforehand with the clergy of the parish. (Remember, this was back in those ancient times when parishes actually had more than one priest! We had four at that time plus weekend help!)

Anyhow, after the obviously elegant dinner and courteous but general table conversation, and before  the Confirmation ceremony, much to my surprise, John Dearden took my arm and pulled me aside and said, "Let's have a chat!"

He led into a sitting room away from the gathered crowd. We sat down.

And that is when his next statement blew me away.

"I understand," John Dearden, Archbishop of Detroit, said to me,, "That you disagree with my theology of Confirmation!"

Now how could he possibly know that?

He had definitely done some serious homework before coming to the parish. And we were definitely not strangers, faces in the crowd to him - at least I certainly was not! John Dearden knew me and whatever his sources, they were good! Very good!

He knew my theological position on Confirmation!

He saw me!

And, yes indeed, I did disagree with his position. I had actually never said so in public, announced it from the rooftops or anything like that but my studies had been leading to some research and conclusions that put us sort of at odds with each other. In a word, our starting points were different and as a result, our conclusions were different.

Really,  I am not sure if I should even describe this whole moment as being at odds. Maybe if I were dealing with Iron John that would have been the case but this was no longer Iron John.

And it showed.

"Let's talk about your conclusions," he invited.

And we began a discussion on the theology of Confirmation!

And he listened to and showed respect for the sources I was citing and, when appropriate, he countered with his views tempered by candid admissions of not really having explored the actual subject in all that depth!

That evening so long ago I truly met John Dearden.

And we had a decent, respectful conversation. At its ending he concluded by saying (and I still deeply treasure this comment) "I cannot, at this time, agree with your conclusions but I will always respect your stand and if ever a guest in your parish, I will respect your theological conclusions!"

John Dearden was a pastor of the finest class!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era (Birettas)

 

That is a biretta!

And I wanted you to see the item that will be the center of attention for this writing so that you do not in any way get confused. After all, I do believe that there is a quite different item which is also could easily sound almost like the item of which I am writing.

That other item is a beretta.

And that is a gun.

This is about the hat not the gun.

The funny looking hat called biretta.

It's a clerical garment, rarely seen anymore, although I suspect there are some of you who may still be seeing clerics proudly wearing these things as if to announce that they are really from a previous century.

There was a time when all Roman Catholic clerics wore bettas.

And I grew up in that time.And in my junior and senior years of college, all students of philosophy, as normal, daily attire topped our heads with birettas.

Or at least that is what some in authority thought.

John Dearden, then Archbishop of Detroit (AKA Iron John, remember) was one of those who assumed that we dressed properly with those birettas on our heads.

And in my senior year of college at St. Mary's, Orchard Lake, this newly-arrived bishop of Detroit was about to make his visit to our campus.

And part of that visit would include a uniform inspection!

Which meant, get those birettas out from wherever they may be in your closets!

For some it even meant get to that religious goods shop and buy yourself a biretta.

Everyone of us would be properly uniformed and that definitely meant a scramble for birettas.

Iron John would tolerate nothing less than full dress uniform!

And this event also occasioned a very important lesson in anatomy as well.

Until then I never knew (and bet you did not know until reading this) that God gave us those seemingly useless little fingers solely for the purpose of properly balancing birettas!

That little finger on your left hand, the one you thought was merely decorative, well, it is the biretta finger!

We were, in anticipation of Iron John's visit, schooled, trained, rehearsed in how to courteously welcome and greet our new Archbishop while balancing our biretta firmly on the little finger of the left hand.

Biretta on head (as a hat should be) and then methodically moved with right hand from head downward and into left hand and securely attached to that left pinky, held firmly in place while the right hand clasped the Archbishops hand and the head bowed to kiss his episcopal ring.

Soldier!

You have nothing on those ancient seminary routines!

And for Iron John, we were sure to know well the routine.

And he judged us to be good, model seminarians, promising future priests.

After all, we had birettas,

We wore birettas.

We knew how to handle those clerical tools.

And we knew why God gave us a little finger on our left hand.

Our birettas witnessed to the very quality of our clerical potential.

We had birettas.

At least until Iron John went home!

 

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops - The Dearden Era

 John Dearden came to the Archdiocese of Detroit from Pittsburgh. Edward Mooney, who has been Detroit's archbishop, had died while awaiting the openning of the conclave in Rome to elect the successor to Pope Pius XII.

It was in very short order after Mooney's passing that the new archbishop was named.

He came to Detroit with a nickname said to embody his persona.

Iron John!

That was the nickname and reputation that preceded him as he moved to Detroit.

And early on my dealings with Iron John began.

They were remote dealings at first, kind of second hand.

My mom's family had come to Detroit from Pennsylvania, a small - and I really do mean "small" - town called Rossiter. It was a coal mining town where families knew well what it meant to get dirty earning a living.

However, it seems that one of the town's natives had made good for himself. Jacob Shiner had become a priest. Word, as I remember it, was that we were even somehow related. At any rate, this priest, Jacob, rose through the ranks to become the secretary to the then archbishop of Pittsburgh, John Dearden. 

First contact point!

And I did tell you that the initial contacts were rather remote!

The second "contact" was rather equally remote.

At the time of the new Archbishop's installation, I was a junior in college at St. Mary's, Orchard Lake. I was also in the choir there and we were asked to join several other choirs in singing for the installation. It was not only a great honor but also something of a mandate. After all, this was the installation of Iron John!

The day of the installation arrived. Rehearsals had taken place. It was time to depart for the event. One small matter remained. Getting there.

It seems that, for a handful of us,  our scheduled ride was unable to make it.

And those were the days when seminarians could not own, rent, lease or in any way actually have a car. The only autos on campus were those of faculty and institution employees. And by the time we discovered that our ride was not coming, faculty going to the installation had already departed.

One car remained for certain, at least one that we knew of.

It was that of an elderly philosophy professor who was not attending the event.

However, seminary rules prohibited any faculty from loaning a mere seminarian a car, at least without permission from higher up, meaning the rector of the seminary, and he, of course, had already headed off to the installation.

We begged. We pleaded. We invoked the reputation embodied in that title, Iron John. All to no avail. 

Finally one of us, not saying who (protecting reputations) invoked a principle directly from the philosophy class taught by that very professor.

Epikeia!

An awesome, ancient principle of ethics.

Epikeia. n. The principle in ethics that a law can be broken to achieve a greater good.

Iron John will not be happy with this seminary if he learns that we could not get to sing at his installation because of some rule regarding use of faculty automobiles!

Break the law to achieve a greater good! We want him to like us!

And so the keys were handed over to us and we were on our way.

And while that Big Man way up there at the altar of the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament never knew it, some voices in that choir that day were singing because reputation that had come with that bishop from Pittsburgh. And a seminary rule had been broken just to make that sound happen.

Iron John had arrived in Detroit!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Chapter Two - Thank you, Robert Callahan)

 And who was Robert Callahan?

He was a Sulpician priest, a faculty member at St. John's Provincial Seminary in Plymouth, Michigan. Very specifically, Robert Callahan taught liturgy in that era just in the shadow of the Second Vatican Council.

Robert Callahan was a rather unique, some might prefer to use the word "eccentric", individual. Perhaps that was due to his being immersed in the field of liturgical theology at a time when for most "liturgy" meant rules, regulations and directives on how to do the rites right.

Anyhow, Robert Callahan, in those seminary days way back in the early 1960's was professor and also, for me, spiritual director. 

And that is the critical piece in the tale that unfolds here.

June 5, 1964 - I remember that date so very, very well.

It was the last day before our ordination to the priesthood.

All of the underclassmen had already gone home to begin their summer vacation. The halls of St. John's echoed with emptiness. Only faculty and deacons remained on site. There was really nothing more scheduled other than our meals for the day. Classes were done. It was just a matter of waiting.

On the morning of June 6 we would board the provided bus and be taken to Blessed Sacrament Cathedral in Detroit. There we would enter into the ancient ritual of ordination and emerge as presbyters (priests for you Catholics.)

Maybe it was the erie silence of the place or the feeling that comes with waiting or whatever. But as that day, June 5, 1964, faded into late evening, I could feel that "certain" feeling.

Jitters?

Nerves?

Doubts?

Maybe.

All I know is that a strong feeling began to take hold.

What are you doing?

Who do you think you are?

You are definitely not one for what is scheduled to take place tomorrow!

Get out of here! And get out of here NOW!

But before just packing my bags and heading to the nearest door, I headed instead to the chapel.

And there I sat in the emptiness, in the silence and in the darkness that descended as evening progressed into night.

It was almost midnight when the back door of the chapel opened.

Footsteps broke the silence.

It was Robert Callahan.

He had spent the evening in the faculty lounge in the front of the building and now he was headed to his room at the opposite end of the building.

And he had decided to take a shortcut through the chapel. That was far easier and quicker than traversing through the maze of hallways.

In the dark of night, in the silence of that space of all people, my spiritual director was in the chapel.

Taking a shortcut to his room?

Taking a Spirit-provoked pathway?

However you choose to evaluate it, he was on a journey right passed me.

And, of course, he noticed me in that darkness.

He stood for a few moments taking in the scene.

Then he stood directly in front of me and said, "I suspect you and I need to have a little conversation. Get up to my room now!"

And so I went.

Once there, we sat facing each other.

And he stated the obvious.

"Having second thoughts?"

I nodded.

And then he made the statement that has held its place in my mind for all of these fifty-nine years now.

"After all of these years and all of these studies and all of the journey thus far, now tonight you might be thinking that this was all a big mistake! Well, if you want to believe that God brought you this far only to say, 'I didn't really mean it," you go ahead and believe that.

Me! I'm going to sleep.

Goodnight!"

And he sent me out of his room and out into the night.

And into the next morning I, obviously, was still at St. John's and I did get onto that bus and make that journey to the Cathedral of the Most Blessed Sacrament.

And there on June 6, 1964, John Dearden, the Archbishop of Detroit placed his hands prayerfully on my head, followed by so very many priests of the Archdiocese of Detroit, and that Archbishop of Detroit smeared Sacred Chrism on my hands and declared me to be a priest.

And that was not my first or last dealing with John Dearden.

But it was certainly the most life-changing.

And, Robert Callahan, after fifty-nine years, I suspect your insight into the mind of God on that fateful night was far greater than was mine.

So, thank you!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Chapter One)

 Well, let's start at the very beginning.

And while that may sound very obvious and logical, going back to the very beginning is also going back to the boring part of this saga.

The very beginning goes back to the very first bishop (OK - Archbishop since Detroit is what is called a Metropolitan See which means that other dioceses within the geographical region are under the care and oversight of the bishop who heads the Metropolitan See.)

Told you that this would be the boring stuff!

The Metropolitan See of Detroit includes all the other dioceses of Michigan. That is what makes Detroit an Archdiocese and that is why Detroit has an Archbishop.

Or in more plain and practical language, when the Michigan bishops get together, the head honcho, the one who wears the largest pointy hat would be the Archbishop of Detroit.

And having, hopefully, helped you to understand some hierarchical jargon and politics, now we can dive in and start somewhere near the beginning.

And that would be with the first bishop of Detroit in my lifetime, Edward Aloysius Mooney.

He became the Archbishop of Detroit the year before I was born and he served in that ministry until his death in October, 1958.

He was the lucky one!

During his time as our Archbishop, I was far too young to cause any real waves or even ripples.

Matter of fact, I was so young that my only remembered encounter with him, and by the way in 1948 he was made a Cardinal, was during a visit to my parish church. That visit was a very big deal because it would be the first time that a Cardinal of the Catholic Church would come to SS. Cyril and Methodius Parish on the East Side of Detroit.

In all honesty I cannot remember why he came or what the visit was all about, some sort of ceremonial for sure.

What I do remember was that the Cardinal Archbishop processed from the rectory a full half city block to the church accompanied by parish groups and organizations waving their banners, marching proudly, altar servers in full garb, vested clergy . . .

And the Cardinal in full regalia.

Which meant a magnificent cape with a very lengthy train.

That I do remember because of all possibilities, I was the one chosen to be his train bearer!

I had to wear special vestments for the occasion too.

I walked behind the Cardinal, at the very end of that long and pomp-filled procession.

And I suspect that to this day somewhere in some closet or trunk, tucked away there is still a photo or two of me, little me back then, in my fancy finery walking carefully behind the Cardinal, lifting that extensive train to ensure that not one inch of it touched the ground or got the least bit soiled.

Along the sidewalk, up the stairway, into the church, down the aisle and up to the altar.

And when whatever the occasion for this visit was was finished, reverse the process back to the rectory.

That was my one, sole dealing with the first Archbishop of Detroit in my lifetime.

I shook his hand, probably kissed his ring and someone told him my name. Then I lifted that train and walked - so proudly.

I don't know if I should count that day late in October when his body was brought back to Detroit from Rome. I, like so very many others, stood in a line that snaked around outside the Cathedral, gradually making the way into the building for one final viewing of our late, deceased Archbishop.

He had gone to Rome with much fanfare as a Cardinal about to vote for the next Pope. Pius XII had died and a successor was to be chosen and through our Archbishop Cardinal, Detroit would have a vote in choosing the new pope for the first time in history.

But that was not to be. Edward Cardinal Mooney died suddenly just prior to the opening of the Conclsave. Detroit would have no vote in that election. The deceased would be returned to Detroit for the final farewell.

And I was still too young, too unseasoned to claim anything more than that I once was chosen to be train bearer to the Cardinal Archbishop of Detroit.

Probably because those fancy vestments fit me!

Watch for more in the weeks to come.

The Book of Bishops (Prologue)

 Well, here goes!

Consider this blog to new an introduction, a prologue, if you will, to what lies ahead and the coming weeks. 

It was November, 2018 when I decided to give this blog thing a try. I have a history of writings - articles, columns, stuff like that. And while there have been those voices prompting me to do a book, that has not yet happened and, given that they days grow more and more limited, that book will likely never happen. Matter of fact, somewhere along the line I suggested to my siblings that they should keep a handle on these writings and someday, when all is said and done, they could gather things together, find an interested publisher and reap the royalties for themselves to enjoy.

I may from time to time be inspired to pen a few words, a column, article or blog, but that book tings just seems not to be in me.

However, for those who have followed this blog for any length of time, every now and then some dots can be connected and articles can be grouped together to address some common themes.

And with this blog I am embarking on a rather deliberate grouping together of a series of reflections, writings that I am not just joining together but even giving a title, a canopy, so to speak, to bind them all together, I am calling the coming collection of writings The Book Of Bishops.

Maybe starting this on Pentecost Sunday is what is inspiring this project.

Maybe the fact that, earlier today, after the Pentecost Mass presided over by a real, live bishop, I was bold enough to remark to him that, "Pentecost reminds us that we are all entitled to red; it's not the exclusive domain of you guys!"

Maybeit's realizing that the current bishop of Detroit will be submitting his letter of retirement soon and we will be waiting for word of a new bishop for the Church of Detroit. Maybe that is part of the inspiration behind what is unfolding in this blog.

Maybe it is just a bit of nostalgic reflection that comes with reaching a certain age and stage in life. Time to look back and remember and share some stories, maybe it is that time for me.

Whatever it may be, and it likely may be any number of things, I am going to do some looking back and telling stories. Some, you readers may already have heard and will find yourself familiar with. Some may provide a surprise or two.

Whatever the result . . . here goes!

The Book if Bishops!

I have decided to do some looking back and narrating experiences I have had over my fifty-nine years as a priest (and a couple more before that) uniquely with the various bishops of Detroit.

Counting the time before those fifty-nine years began, I have experienced five bishops of Detroit (Archbishops actually.) True, when counting auxiliary or assistant  bishops, there have been many more but I intend to limit these reflections to the five who were in charge, so to speak, Archbishops.

And as I reflect back, the very fact that I have stories to tell about personal interactions with such as these is its own surprise.

See, when I was ordained, my plan was to minister in the shadows. That would be a way of describing it. As I looked ahead to whatever years I might be given, my assumption was that I would quietly minister, serving as an assistant for maybe twenty, twenty-five years always with someone else in charge. Then, with a sufficient amount of seniority, I would be given a parish, probably a rather minor parish in the outskirts of the Archdiocese where I would quietly spend the remainder of my years.

That was my plan. That was how I saw my life's journey.

Suffice it to say that Someone else had other plans.

Where I assumed that, if my name came up at any time in those hallowed offices Downtown, the bishop would likely say, "Who?"

As it so often turned out in  reality, when my name did come up in those hallowed offices, more often than not the bishop might just respond with something like, "Ohm, him again!"

And so begins The Book of Bishops.

Watch for more in the weeks to come.