Chameleon

“He scared me tonight when he was talking about doing something he never thought he would do. It wasn’t so much his words as his tone of voice. I was almost afraid of him. I’ve never felt like that before.”

“You’ve got to have more confidence in your father, dear. Of course he wouldn’t do anything foolish. Just put that out of your mind.”

Pam would not mention it to her daughter, but Irma had put into words the exact fear that increasingly plagued Pam. She could not nor would she worry her daughter. But Fred had changed in subtle ways. Pam was concerned. She would do her best to make sure Fred did nothing foolish. She shivered as she prayed that even now it was not too late.

10

Cardinal Mark Boyle offered sister Joan condolences on the death of her sister.

The Cardinal’s speech pattern, on almost all formal occasions, brought to mind a technically and carefully worded textbook. And so it was now. In her mind’s eye, Joan saw the Cardinal’s words framed in hearts and flowers mounted on an antique greeting card.

The others at today’s meeting murmured their agreement with Cardinal Boyle’s expressions, which he had tendered immediately after opening the meeting with a prayer.

That is, at least most of them concurred.

That business completed, there came the shuffling of papers and scraping of chairs. This was a regularly scheduled meeting of “the staff,” which included the heads, leaders, directors of almost every bureau or department in the archdiocese. It was an unwieldy group of some thirty people. Three were women: Sister Joan; the director of continuing education, Joan Blackford Hayes; and Irene Casey, present editor of the Detroit Catholic, Of the men present, almost half the number were lay.

It had not been that way in the beginning.

Father Koesler, as editor of the Detroit Catholic when these staff meetings first began, could testify that in the beginning there had been present only about a dozen people, all of whom were clergymen. In time, the number grew as departments were either added or recognized. And, reflecting the profound vocation shortage, more and more departments were headed by laypeople.

The staff meeting had two basic functions. Each department head reported in writing what his or her agency had accomplished in the past month. And each department head detailed future plans.

The chief topic of today’s meeting was to be Catholic schools of the archdiocese, with emphasis on the ever- shrinking number of parochial grade and high schools.

There had been a time, up to the early 1970s, when almost every parish had its own parochial school. That was an era when teaching sisters were plentiful and some public school services were made available.

Then, in the wake of Vatican II and a judgment of the U.S. Supreme Court, both these staples of parochial education were made unavailable.

The Sisters vanished. Many left the convent for lay careers and/or marriage. Some remained in the religious life but opted for Church positions other than teaching.

And simultaneously, few, very few, were entering religious life.

In 1971 the Supreme Court ruled that any use whatsoever of public funds for private education was unconstitutional.

The virtual disappearance of these two essential resources might imply that the parochial school system would collapse. It hadn’t, but it was leaning more steeply than that tower in Pisa. That it was still even limping along was a tribute to Catholics dedicated and sacrificing to keep it going somehow. In the meantime, it was draining the budgets of those parishes still subsidizing schools.

Today, it was Father Cletus Bash’s turn to chair the meeting, albeit with deference to Cardinal Boyle, who never left any doubt who was in charge.

Boyle’s position as archbishop-sweetened by the title of Cardinal-gave him overwhelming power in the local Church. All the property in the archdiocese was held in his name. Church law gave him authority in the archdiocese second only to the Pope. In addition, Detroit was the metropolitan see in the state of Michigan, which gave Boyle some degree of clout over the other six dioceses in the state. Someone said it: Bishops in Rome were a dime a dozen; a bishop in his own diocese was a power to be reckoned with.

Father Bash called on the various departments one by one. Each director had previously submitted a one- page report for the month. Each director was expected to read all the others’ reports prior to the meeting. Typically, few had done their homework. For those few, now, as Bash paged through one sheet after another, this was their opportunity to ask questions or comment concerning the reports. Instead, most everyone was blearily one or more pages behind Bash in trying to digest all the proffered information. There were few questions.

Bash was brusque and slightly caustic, as always. “I see everyone has pored over the reports as usual and, as usual, conditions among all departments are so good there aren’t many questions.”

A precious few were slightly entertained, the rest merely grumbled in muted tones.

“We now turn to the main topic for today’s meeting,” Bash proceeded unmindfully. “Our schools and our school system. For this part of the meeting you need only state your opinion-no advance work needs to have been done. So we can count on the meeting livening up.”

More grousing.

“For greater clarity,” Bash added, “we will not be discussing any of our colleges or universities, and we’ll reserve comment on the central highs. Let’s begin with our parochial grade and high schools. Anyone?”

Monsignor Del Young took the floor and hung on tight. A throwback to a former time, he’d been superintendent of Catholic schools in Detroit for twenty years. Ordinarily, he would have moved out of that specialized job long ago. But he was so comfortable as superintendent on the one hand, and fearful of becoming a pastor on the other, that he fought the notion of a transfer each time the issue was raised.

It was not all that unusual for a priest in special work to want to remain there. Over the years, attending conventions, regional and national meetings, it was natural to become acquainted with almost everyone in the field. The continuing phone contact and correspondence tied them all together in a tidy subculture. It got to be cozy. The routine was reassuring.

Even so, a diocesan or secular priest such as Del Young had attended a diocesan seminary in order to become a parish priest. That’s what diocesan seminaries produced. Thus, even if parting from a superintendent’s position could be sweet sorrow, it shouldn’t have been that hard. That parting with a preferred job could be painful is easily understood. Still, he would be moving into the position he had ostensibly started out to hold in the beginning-the office of a parish priest.

The final phenomenon contributing to Monsignor Young’s durable dalliance with the superintendent’s job was that the priesthood had become a buyer’s market. This state of affairs had been generated by the priest shortage. Bishops needed-in growing desperation-warm priestly bodies.

At one time, Detroit priests were moved about the diocese when they received a letter from the Chancery which invariably began, “For the care of souls, I have it in mind to send you to …” Where followed the name of the parish the priest would move to and serve in.

No longer. Parishes advertised in the priests’ newsletter, and priests applied for the position-or did not. There were exceptions, but considerable choice on the priest’s part was the rule, not the exception.

So Monsignor Del Young wanted, and was able, to hang in there. Because he’d had the job for as long as many could remember, he feared getting into a parish where his authority would be unaccustomedly diminished, and particularly at age sixty-five, ten years from mandatory retirement, he was not about to be receiving a “For the care of souls …” letter.

Del Young could see only one possible fly in the ointment: What if they closed the schools? He would be superintendent of nothing.

As the first speaker in this morning’s staff meeting, Monsignor Young spoke long, ardently, and with some eloquence on behalf of everything from self-sustaining schools to those whose income was minuscule.

Everyone in the room knew whence Del Young was coming and took all he said with huge doses of salt.