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Since this time last year, I have officiated at 38 weddings. Holy Name was the site of 161 weddings from 6/30/05-7/1/06. That’s a lot. Still, every wedding is unique. Last Saturday, I noticed something I had not seen before. When a maid-of-honor fainted on me after Communion at one wedding in Park Ridge in 2003, I started a new practice. After bringing the Body of Christ to the bride & groom and the wedding party kneeling in the sanctuary, I ask the bridal party to stand up, turn around facing the congregation, and smile while I distribute the Eucharist to the congregation. That move serves three purposes. (1) Nobody kneels for a long time risking the melting of a bridesmaid or groomsman. (2) The main folks get to see who is at the wedding. (3) If the photographer is slick, she or he can get a great picture of a bunch of smiling people in bridal gowns and tuxedos. Last Saturday, I told the party to spin around before I walked down the center-aisle steps to present Communion. “The Body of Christ…The Body of Christ…The Body of Christ…” Then a fine-looking woman in a beautiful gown approached with her little daughter in tow. The girl was dressed like a doll – white lace dress, sharp shoes, combed hair, and a pretty smile. As I gave Communion to mom, I glanced at the child. She could not have been grinning more broadly, fascinated and hypnotized by what she saw in the sanctuary. The kid paid no attention to me. Through five-year old eyes, she was enjoying the sight of someone she knew getting married. She likely got a first glimpse of her own wedding last Saturday. I remember her feeling. My relatives have black-and-white wedding pictures of a procession down the aisle at St. Veronica Church, while the back of the head of a little boy in the third row peeked out into the aisle. The back of my head has less hair today; still, I confess…that was me. The 1957 photographer got my picture. I hope the 2006 photographer got a pretty picture of that little girl last Saturday. She began to dream of her marriage that day. Wouldn’t it be great to stuff that photo into the first pages of a wedding album when she finds the fellow whom she will help to get to heaven, the guy who will escort her to Christ’s promised forever? I wish I knew that kid. I’d like to do her wedding (in 2030?). Until then, I’ll offer the Mass and conduct the ceremony for many more who once upon a time will watch a wedding through little-kid eyes and will be certain that they are witnessing two people looking into eternity – the same way they wanted to see Jesus. Next Sunday, October 15, Father Joseph Johnson will be installed by Archbishop Harry Flynn as the 21st Rector of St. Paul Cathedral in St. Paul, Minnesota, on the weekend of the 48th anniversary of that historic place of prayer’s dedication. After sending a letter of congratulations to Father Johnson and welcoming him to the “club” of Cathedral pastors, I received a kind invitation to his installation. With my schedule already tight, I sent him my regrets, my best wishes and a promise that Holy Name Cathedral would pray for him and his Archdiocese on October 15. I have to see his Cathedral some day soon. Meanwhile, say the prayers I promised our Minnesota friend, Father Johnson. All recently registered parishioners are invited to a get-together next Saturday, October 14, after the 5:15pm Mass (about 6:15pm) in the cafeteria. If you are new to Holy Name and have already registered, phone Susanne at 312-932-9248 with your RSVP so that we know to welcome you next Saturday. Thanks to our friends on the Parish Council for hosting the party. Peter Muldoon died on October 8, 1927. The first Bishop of Rockford is commonly remembered as a ghost. Born 90 miles southeast of Sacramento to Irish parents, he was ordained in 1886 before he found a home in Chicago. Just two years after his ordination, he was appointed Chicago Archdiocesan Chancellor. He also served as Chicago Archbishop Patrick Feehan’s secretary. In the early years of his priesthood, Father Muldoon was pastor of St. Charles Borromeo parish (1895-1901), an Italian nest run by Irishmen. Although an American by birth, Muldoon’s selection as Auxiliary Bishop of Chicago in 1901 was controversial. The foreign-born Irish clergy objected. Catholic essayist Tim Unsworth in modern times writes the story this way. “An oddball country priest, an FBI (Foreign-born Irishman)…named Crowley, took a particular dislike to Peter Muldoon, in part because Crowley had "scarlet fever" and Muldoon had sailed past him. Crowley joined with two city pastors and vilified Muldoon, dirtying him up with untrue stories that never went away. Crowley later wrote several books attacking poor Muldoon. Crowley eventually quit the priesthood and the church and died at a county hospital in 1922, far removed from the church and bishop's hat he had sought. At a Holy Name Cathedral Mass in a 1901, the schismatic Fr. Crowley paraded to the front row in protest. Altar boys extinguished candles that had signaled the retreating Archbishop’s presence. In 1908, Bishop Muldoon was appointed to the new diocese of Rockford where he died in 1927. Still he knew that a golden part of his priesthood belonged to St. Charles Church. He wanted his Episcopal ring to be buried on Chicago’s West Side. Somehow, the ring was lost. St. Charles associate Rocco Facchini, who left the priesthood in 1971, published a book on the odd tale (Muldoon: A True Chicago Ghost Story: Tales of a Forgotten Rectory, Lake Claremont Press, 2005). According to Unsworth, Rocco barely had settled in his room when he was startled by intermittent manifestations - noises, slammed doors, barking dogs, moving furniture, radios suddenly turning on, darkened rooms lit, walls turning hot and cold. Largely because it was a crime neighborhood with a reputation since prohibition times, Rocco kept the door to his room locked. Yet he often returned to find the door open. Rocco found himself talking to Muldoon. "I'm your friend, Peter," he would whisper behind his locked door. "Just talk to me." But when he opened the door of his quarters, he found the corridors quiet and in good order. One day a priest friend came to visit. While he waited for Rocco, he noticed a quiet priest at work in the rectory office. When Rocco arrived and later pointed to Muldoon's picture, the priest shouted: "That's him! That's the priest I saw!" There was, in fact, a portrait of Muldoon hanging in a heavy frame that was bolted to the wall in the corridor. One day, Rocco and the pastor found the portrait on the floor. "He's out to get me!" the pastor wailed. Muldoon was looking for his ring. It’s too early for Halloween, isn’t it? Sunday is the 79th anniversary of Bishop Peter Muldoon’s death. Ordained a bishop on July 25, 1901, in our Cathedral, his name is on a plaque in the vestibule of Holy Name. Look at it…pray for Bishop Muldoon…pray for us…pray for Rocco Facchini…and pray for all haunted by life’s perceived “ghosts”. Fr. Dan Mayall |
