One can pick up good theology most anywhere, including an article by columnist Peter S. Greemberg, who described the management style of Raymond Bickson at the Mark Hotel in Manhattan”s Upper East Side. (Sunday, July 10,1994 issue of the St. Paul Pioneer Press.)

According to Greenberg, George Raphael bought a run-down hotel in Manhattan's Upper East Side in 1987, and hired Bickson to oversee the $35 million restoration.

In two years, 350 rooms with bad plumbing were turned into 120 guest rooms, 60 suites, a superb dining room, and “an atmosphere that makes guests feel they are pleasantly caught between a private club and a great villa.

You're going to say that Jesus wouldn't be seen hob-nobbing with the Rich and Famous at such a pricey inn. I'll bet He would feel right at home with Bickson's style of management.

For this manager, age 37, with a lifetime in the hotel business, and the ability to converse in three languages, doesn't hold any job beneath his dignity.

If you're up at 7:30, you'll find him walking the halls, randomly checking the rooms, then holding meetings with the staff.

During the day, he could be fixing furniture, screwing in a light bulb, noticing a squeaky door, or checking up to see that a guest's ride to the airport arrives on time.

His philosophy is revolutionary, as revolutionary as that of the Man of Galilee.

"We have an inverted organizational chart here, with the guest at the top, followed by the staff, and I'm at the bottom."

Why?

"Because the general manager doesn't open the door, deliver the morning paper or cook dinner. I'm not the person who makes this hotel -- it's the staff."

Bickson instructs the staff to go beyond calling the guests by name, to look and see if someone seems lost, or is under pressure, or has had a good day.

He sees this as something more than quality or good timing. "It also mandates a sense of morality and humanity."

A sense of morality and humanity. Have we lost this spirit in the church, resulting in a schism between management and labor, the powerful and the powerless?

What would happen if the Holy Father, the members of the Curia, and all the cardinals and bishops followed Bickson's example, and walked around the ordinary streets of towns, looking into the eyes of the people they serve, searching for hurts too deep for words, written or spoken?

The little ten-year old daughter of a married priest, who had been denied Holy Communion by a pastor, might receive a hug from the Pope and begin to heal.

Away from the Vatican halls then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger might find himself in the slums of Brazil, where a married priest stands at a table and offers Mass, surrounded by his wife, children, and the poorest of God's poor.

In the silence, the cardinal might contrast the squalor with the splendor of St. Peter's and the wealth of the Vatican.

He might also ponder over the power of his office to do good, or to spread fear around the globe among those who serve the least of God's children.

Bickson would remind us that the most important people in the church are the ministers who meet God's people at the grass-roots level, and who must be nourished with love and compassion, if, in turn, they are to feed and shelter those who check into God's hotel.

Time was when word from the Vatican came by slow boat, no planes, nor cables, certainly no current newspapers. Therefore, among the millions of Catholics world-wide, I was fairly surprised lately to read of a series of questions the Vatican was sending to women religious for their study and response.

The vatican is a long way from our shores, so I am not going to judge the wisdom of the decision to send the questionnaire at this time.

I would ask those who compiled the questionnaire to consider the state of the Sisters at this time. Consider, please, as you know, the numbers of Sisters has greatly dwindled in the last twenty years. Fewer workers mean less income, less support; ill Sisters just keep on working, for the most part, without complaint as long as they are able.

There is too much separation between the women religious and those inspecting their way of life. More gracious would it have been for the clergy to have visited the nuns in person, even those in wheel chairs.

We should get down on our knees and thank God for their service and love rather than offer them pages of questions on their lives. There is a time for acceptance and loving people for what they are, have been, and will be, no strings attached.

We can pray for those who organized this strange memorial by way of honoring our women religious. Henri Nowen would have planned a circus in their honor, with music and laughter all over the states. For those who can no longer walk, he would have brought the circus performers up and down the infirmary halls, with Bickson, his wife and children in the lead.

Dear Lord, please bless those who have borne the heat of the day and the chill of the night. Let your grace comfort them and let them know how much they are loved by us Catholic people. Amen.

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