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Great news! Cardinal George has appointed Father Matt Compton, currently Associate Pastor of St. Francis Xavier Church in Wilmette, a graduate degree candidate at the University of St. Mary of the Lake’s Liturgical Institute, and an Archdiocesan priest since 2004, as full-time Associate Pastor and Director of Liturgy at the Cathedral. We really got lucky. Not only did we find another priest for the vacant position on our pastoral staff, we found a gem. Father Compton is scheduled to offer the 5:15pm Mass next Saturday. For now, give thanks. Jesus helped Holy Name Cathedral again! Jim Keleher today is the retired Archbishop of Kansas City, Kansas. When he was a young priest, he was assigned to teach history at one of Chicago’s high school seminaries, Quigley North on Rush Street, just five minutes from the Cathedral. Father Keleher was a popular teacher. The freshmen were delighted to hear that he would give one of the talks on our freshman retreat. Freshmen did not go away on retreat, on a bus for a night or two or three at a house of prayer in the distant suburbs like our junior and senior brothers did. We stayed at school and traveled to and from our homes for two days of talks, activities, discussions, recreation and prayers – a break from the routine school agenda. We were still adjusting to being known as young seminarians. Best of all, we had the building to ourselves; the big boys were gone. The experience of a freshman retreat was meant to make us feel at home in the high school seminary. It worked. Over 40 years since Father Keleher gave his talk, I remember the positive picture he painted of a priest. He told us that people almost universally liked their priests. “There are a few crazy people,” he chuckled. “But most people respect and love their priests.” At just age fourteen, I sat tall when I heard that talk. Across America in the early years of this decade, Father Keleher’s claim certainly was challenged. As the horror of the clergy sex abuse scandal unfolded, I realized that the priesthood was tarnished. By the year the scandal erupted, already I had 25 years at the altar. On the occasion of a Silver Anniversary of Ordination, many priests celebrate with those they have met along the trail at a party or even a banquet. I wrote to my friends, “Catholic priests have taken a public beating in the papers, on TV news, on The Tonight Show, on Saturday Night Live, on all kinds of TV/radio talk shows, and in conversations. Some priests deserved the beatings. However, no priest has escaped the sting of the words, the jokes, the commentaries. We could use the prayers. Some priests have a big party in the vicinity of their 25th anniversary. That’s not for me. I hate the spotlight. Just say the prayers. I will be grateful.” Now, after 5-½ years under the bright lights of Holy Name Cathedral, I definitely have noticed an enduring truth. People want to love their priests. That fact is truer today than when Father Keleher suggested it to me and a chapel-full of freshmen in 1965. I always have wanted to believe it. Again I saw it so absolutely one early morning last week. The chaplain at Northwestern Hospital called me late Thursday night to tip me off that a patient would be admitted early on Friday to prepare for surgery. Her family was anxious to have her anointed before she went to the operation. I asked him to give the family my emergency number so that they could give me a wake-up call when they arrived at Northwestern. I’d take the four-block walk over to the hospital, anoint the patient, promise my prayers, go home, and catch another hour of sleep. The streets are busy, but far less crowded at 6:45am. People have a chance to catch your eye at that bright hour. Thursday was a beautiful morning; the sunrise promised everything good. After recognizing what I felt to and from the hospital, I had to write these words. Dressed in my collar, I headed out the door. “Hello, Father.” That was from a familiar face on the way to 7:00am Mass. I returned the smiling greeting. Next were two doormen at the Peninsula Hotel. “Good morning, Father.” As I stood waiting for the long light to change on Michigan Avenue, I got a tap on the shoulder from an early-bird reporting for work at the Archdiocesan Pastoral Center. “How are you, Father Mayall?” I am fine, and getting better. On the way into Northwestern, a Filipina nurse nodded her head and smiled. When I got to the security desk, the greeting from the receptionist was most warm. After handing me my yellow ID badge, she made sure to thank me for walking over. The patient herself was alone and so glad to get my visit. We prayed. I administered the Sacrament. She was ready for surgery. Before I left the hospital elevator, two women on their way in asked me to bless their religious medals. Was one of them preparing for the operating room? The cabbie at the hospital door tipped his cap to me. A fellow in jogging clothes waited next to me for the everlasting Michigan Avenue light to change. “This is a beautiful city. Do you live here, Father?” Yes, I do. “Congratulations!” Let me deflect that compliment to our famous Mayor Daley. I came upon a man whose face I recognized; I recognized his hand, too. Always, the hand was out. This was one of the homeless guys who are ingredients of the neighborhood. Except this morning, he extended his hand to shake mine. “Hello, Father Mayall.” I felt like a celebrity. The lady tugging her dog nodded at me; even the jumpy puppy yapped once. Finally, as I put my key into the rectory door, a voice from our maintenance crew asked, “Everything OK, Father?” “OK, so far,” I answered. He relaxed. Am I getting soft in my 30th year of priesthood, or are people more clearly acknowledging the positive power of the priest? I have noticed it before that one blessed morning’s stroll to the hospital. In the 1960 academy award-winning movie version of agnostic Sinclair Lewis’s novel Elmer Gantry, a character in the voice of Lewis, explaining negative outcry against a hypocritical evangelistic minister, declares, “People don’t like their gods to be human.” Priests are not gods. Nevertheless, priests are expected to be respected. Even when some commit mighty ugly, greedy, and perverse deeds, the rest should not tuck our collars into the closet. I walked tall on an early morning trip to the hospital. I felt cheered on by the people who live and work around here. Do I have the indelible mark that Aquinas claimed I had on my soul touched by the imposition of Holy Orders? I certainly do. I own other clothes; but with a Roman collar reflecting that indelible mark, I’ll move ahead with both the pride and humility of a Catholic priest. Meantime, if you see my friend Archbishop Jim Keleher, tell him he absolutely was right. Fr. Dan Mayall |
