Father Bill Kenneally, a cardinal? Not in name, of course, but otherwise? Let’s take a look.

The Webster College Dictionary defines the term this way: “Cardinal – a high eccleiastic appointed by the pope to the College of Cardinals.” Keneally is neither “high” nor “appointed.” What he is, is a shepherd. Not an ordinary shepherd, mind you, who gathers his flock in St. Gertrude’s Parish, Chicago, and is unconcerned about the sheep next door or down the road a piece. He cares about everyone, and appears to think that by feeding the flock before him, changes for greater nourishment will take place next door and down the road.

In the Metro section of the Chicago Tribune, June 5, 2006, there is a beautiful picture in color of the shepherd and his people on the front steps of the church, where laughter and good will seem to have spilled out over young and old alike, as if from a bag of fairy dust.

In a smaller picture, Kenneally holds 1-year-old Maggie Peters for her mother Kristin before Sunday Mass, a farewell celebration, during which the pastor spoke of what his people meant to him, as reported by Manya A. Brachear:

When I’m with you, I’m much calmer than when I’m reading an encyclical or reading the latest letter from downtown. But my church is here. When I see how .... you carry the cross of everyday life, those pronouncements that get me mad don’t mean that much.

For those words to have had any meaning, it was obvious that Kenneally had spent much of his 22-year tenure walking among his sheep, gaining their confidence, listening, always listening to their cares and hopes.

In turn, they learned of his struggles with alcohol, colon cancer, and public discontent with his own church. They shared a vision for the future and married it with hard work to the present.

Brachear tells us Kenneally was ordained in 1961, and was inspired by the reforms of Vatican II between 1962 and 1965, while serving in several parishes, and recalled, “There was this open window that looked out on a church that looked very, very progressive at the time. For a priest, those were the golden days where all these things that liberal theologians talked about were now part of the agenda of the church.”

But the papacy of John Paul II saw a retrenchment toward the old ways, and a discouraged Kenneally explained the state of affairs today: “The deck is stacked against us. That’s what’s frustrating for me. I don’t think liberal Catholics are considered anymore by the hierarchy. They’re thought of as some kind of pestilence or irrelevant.”

Kenneally’s frustration no doubt stems from the result of the growth of conservative movements, such as Opus Dei within the diocese, as well as elsewhere. (There are a number of articles on this cult within the church on this Web site.) Members of Rome’s Curia were determined to hold onto the past and to squelch any dialogue that might stir up hope for change.

In his excellent book, "The Changing Face of the Priesthood," Father Donald B. Cozzens describes the effect upon the clergy:

The hope and energy left most of their eyes. Many priests simply settled into making their lives “work” by pastoring to the best of their ability, by shrinking their world to the borders of their parishes. ...Some priests simply went through the motions,husbanding their energies for comforts and pursuits that dulled their disappointment. A few became cynical and bitter. The rest, I believe, held to the conviction that eventually the confusion and angst would be soothed by the liberating breath of the Spirit.

Cozzens goes on to say that priests today are experiencing collectively what John of the Cross described as “the dark night of the soul.”

In the midst of the dark night priests stood in a fire of transformation and conversion.Stripped of the cultural supports and roles that shaped their identity and mission, they were pressed to ask what it meant to be one of the faithful and their servant-leader, what it meant to be a tender of the word.

That takes vision and work and patience, more than just feel-good-for-today planning. Cozzens tells us:

Pastoring, not for the faint of heart, is equally ill-suited for the lazy of soul; it is for the adult leader purified in the discipline of the cross.The priest is called to be such a leader – he is called to be innocent without being naive, committed without being aloof, a man of the Church without being clerical or elitist. Only the mature adult, full in the stature of grace, meet these demands.

How did Kenneally measure up to Cozzens’ demands? Breacher says when he arrived at St. Gertrude in 1984, “ He immediately added a contemporary worship service in a gym that featured jazz, dance and other creative expressions– an effort to give lapsed Catholics and seekers an alternative point of entry into the church.” Shepherding, shepherding, shepherding.

Some people raised a fuss about turning the vacant convent into a shelter for refugees and the homeless, and the consolidation of seven schools into four, which resulted in an increased enrollment for the school.

The shepherd’s “show-down” moment, said Breacher, came when he found 23 men who had resigned from the priesthood and invited them to become more involved in St. Gertrude’s ministry, even to offer Mass.

That was going too far for the Powers That Be, and Kenneally was warned that if he persisted in the plan, his career would be over. Ever the gentle shepherd, the pastor left the decision to the priest who was to offer the Mass, and he decided not to do so.

Yet, the pastor wasn’t about to leave his sheep without necessary nourishment, so he formed a preaching team, consisting not only of former priests, but women, as well. When the archdiocese and some parishioners tried to put a stop to the work, Kenneally stood his ground, saying:

“I think the priests who have left have been treated sort of shabbily. Here all this training went into them, and a lot of it is lost.”

There’s that shepherding gift again, and he’s right in line with the words of Cozzens.

When Cozzens questioned resigned priests, he asked them what they missed most about the ministry. Without exception, all answered, “Offering Mass and preaching.” Isn’t forbidding them to offer Mass and preach a kind of spiritual torture? Kenneally is right. What a waste! I’ve been to Masses where a brilliant preacher sat in his pew and listened to a well-intentioned, but ill-equipped deacon deliver the homily. What was on display was not the ignorance of the deacon but the intransigence of Rome.

And what about women? Kenneally doesn’t fear them. He likes women. Their preaching in his church is no threat to his position as pastor. Chances are, they shepherd in situations where he might not feel comfortable. Thomas C. Fox, in his article, “Journalists Hear Frank Talk About Church Issues,” (National Catholic Reporter, October 13, 1995) has said that our priestly vocations will continue to go south until the Church recognizes the part of women in recruiting young men for the priesthood.

The shortage of priests is not going to be solved by gritting our teeth and praying for more vocations. Women are the ones who identify and nurture vocations, and they are not doing it anymore, and they are not going to do it, and all the preaching in the world is not going to change their minds. If you don’t believe me, talk to them. I’ve interviewed them. They say, “A church that won’t accept my daughters isn’t going to get my son.” “I know my son has a vocation to the priesthood but he won’t accept celibacy.” “I don’t want my sons to go through what you and other priests have had to go through since the pedophilia issue surfaced.”

It is difficult for Kenneally to leave his post of 22 years, difficult for his parishioners to see him go, but if anyone represents the shepherding carried on in the Mystical Body of Christ, it is he. He’s not leaving anywhere; he’s going to everywhere, wherever Christ’s people are hurting and in need of a Cardinal in basic black.

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