On November 23, 1968, Bishop James Patrick Shannon wrote a letter of resignation to Archbishop Leo Binz, who, for unknown reasons, failed to share its contents with his chancellor, Msgr. Terrance Bernston. Therefore, when Binz was asked by the press about the allegation of Shannon’s resignation, the archbishop felt free to deny it.

Eventually, the truth could no longer be denied, and Binz was bombarded with reporters’ questions, so he called Shannon in Santa Fe and asked him to return and answer the questions himself.

It was one thing for the apostolic delegate, Archbishop Luigi Raimondi, while secretly dealing with powerful figures in the background, to keep Shannon flying from St. Paul to Washington, to Santa Fe, and back again, like a wooden puppet on a string, with no sense of direction.

It was quite another to deal with the public outcry against a foreign assignment, an injustice against their friend and bishop. Much to Shannon’s regret, a prayer vigil was held in St. Paul’s Cathedral to the mantra, "S.O.S. Save Our Shannon!"

The worried apostolic delegate, upon reading stories of Shannon’s future in The New York Times, and the Washington Post, wrote a letter to Shannon, saying that the "offers" made to him for "service outside the country" had never been intended as exile, but only as personal suggestions from one bishop to another.

Besides Switzerland, Rome and Jerusalem, Raimondi had told Shannon he could choose a country in South America. By phone to Binz, Raimondi inexplicably denied ever having suggested South America to Shannon.

On June 28, Shannon, Byrne, Raimondi and Dominican priest Father Thomas R. Gallagher of the Delegation staff, acted as witness and secretary at the meeting, during which Raimondi assured Shannon that his several suggestions had been as temporary assignments to provide the author with "rest and quiet" to consider the questions of conscience raised by Pope Paul’s encyclical.

The visit concluded with an agreement that the delegate would send a letter to all the bishops explaining his good intentions and Shannon’s misunderstanding of his well-meant suggestions.

When the interview was over, Shannon asked Byrne how the delegate could have denied suggesting a post in South America in the service of the Holy Father. Byrne replied: "Jim, the apostolic delegate is an honorable man." When it comes to honor, I must admit having come down on the side of Shannon.

What appears to have been lost in the entire scenario is the injustice visited upon Shannon’s. ministry – those priests and laity who looked to him for inspiration, guidance and friendship – his service thrown away as of no importance, as though beloved shepherds were so plentiful as to have been expendable.

Resignation brought with it for Shannon the loss of companionship found in his clerical family. Gradually, he began to think about the need for inspiration and support, and found both in a friend, Ruth Wilkinson, whom he had met in Washington in 1964 where she was the personal secretary for Senator Kenneth B. Keating.

When Senator Keating lost the election in 1966 to Robert Kennedy, Ruth returned to her home in Rochester, New York, to care for her father who was dying of cancer.

Eventually, Ruth and Jim began to come to a deeper friendship and the question of marriage, which both initially considered a risky business. Wilkinson had been divorced ( her husband had since died), and she was worried about going into a marriage that wouldn’t stand up against the test of time.

On the other hand, Shannon knew he was settled in his ways, and probably wouldn’t make a prime candidate for marriage. However, what they had in common was mutual respect and personal devotion to Christ, along with their life-long dedication of service to him in the poor and suffering. After much prayer and consultation, they were married and took up residence in Santa Fe.

On the first day, a Sunday, they attended Mass and found themselves included in the homily, as the priest compared the couple to hippies who roamed the Santa Fe Plaza with "no aim or purpose in life but to please themselves."

How far from the truth; how far from Christian charity!

Later, Shannon took a break from work to visit his mother whose health was failing, A few days after his return, his mother died in her sleep.

A quote she often repeated to the family for the youngsters’ inspiration was: "Remember, children, the fire that melts the butter hardens the iron."

Her funeral Mass was at St. Augustine, the family’s home parish, where, for so many years, she had contributed fifty home-made pies for the annual fund-raiser to pay off the mortgage.

Shannon wrote that the church was full. Archbishop Binz and many priests came to pay their respects to her. Makes me feel better about the Archbishop.

Eventually, Shannon took up the study of law, passed the exam and joined the firm of of Sutin, Thayer and Browne. Then, one day, the phone rang with an offer to join the Minneapolis Foundation, a public charity, as its executive director, after the proposal had been cleared with Archbishop Leo Byrne.

Unlike the judgmental priest in Santa Fe, Father Harvey Egan invited dozens of Shannon’s friends three Mondays in a row for a buffet at St. Joan of Arc rectory to renew friendships and introduce Ruth.. Shannon calls those events "occasions of grace" for both of them. They are also occasions of grace for the laity who watch for signs of charity among the clergy, resigned or otherwise.

In his four years at the Minneapolis Foundation, Shannon says he had come to know and admire the General Mills Foundation as a model corporate grant-maker in Minnesota and in the other states where General Mills has manufacturing plants or subsidiaries. Shannon was invited to join the company as associate director of the foundation in January, 1980, and became its executive director and a vice president of General Mills on August 1, where he served for six years, helping General Mills to part with three percent of its pretax profits annually (9 million) for the poor.

An invitation to join the board of the Institute for Ecumenical and Cultural Research seems to me to have been an extraordinary grace for Shannon. His entire life as priest, bishop and lay person had been absorbed with serving others, but here was an opportunity to meet Christian scholars from six continents, and to exchange ideas for the growth of Christianity.

Fr. Kilian McDonnell, OSB, established the Institute at St. John Abbey in Collegeville in the early 1960s. The Institute’s borchure states:

"There, day after day and year after year, honest patient dialogue continues in a atmosphere of prayerfulness and peace. Not ony ecumenical dialogue, but ecumenical life together witness to the possibility of a new oneness in God’s family on this threatened earth."

Shannon spoke of his personal experience: "I discovered I was in a whole new company of people who put a priority on identifying themselves as followers of Christ and who are willing to talk in the first person, to share with one another in candor, with courtesy, kindness, and generosity, and to ask how they can reinforce each other, both in their faith and in the way they translate the faith into action in society. I felt I now had permission, outside my crowd of philanthropoids, to talk openly."

He further remarked on how impressed he was with the knowledge of Scripture his colleagues possessed, their habits of piety, of prayer and spiritual exercises. What a gift, to come to the evening of life among such company

Shannon concludes his autobiography with a beautiful quote from Cardinal John Henry Newman that must echo in the hearts of many Christians. Here, again, we find Shannon’s spirit of service, offering to his readers words of comfort and hope.

"May he support us all the day long, till the shadows lengthen and the evening comes,
and the busy world is hushed and the fever of life is over and our work is done.
Then in his mercy may he give us a safe lodging and a holy rest and peace at the last."

(...amended slightly, Sept 13, 2003, after James Patrick Shannon's death.)

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