By 7:15 p.m., on February 3, the Priory Auditorium at Dominican University in River Forest, Illinois, was packed, front, sides and back.  Hastily, chairs were added in places that may have compromised a fire code here or there, but, to my untrained eye, not to the extent of endangering the lives of the audience in the event that Father Cozzens’ lecture would produce more heat than light. Not to worry, it was light all the way.

Light at a cost.  While the smile was often present, Cozzens’ demeanor was that of a man made slightly weary in battle, who would deliver a rather muted talk, not the passionate one many might have expected, as though he had been around too many ecclesiastical blocks to be careless about whom or what he might run into around the corner.

Yet, here, he  knew he was speaking to the choir; and could relax a bit.  These were his people, whether known by name or not, mostly in their sixties or seventies, or beyond, Vatican II Catholics., and,  also weary from laboring in the vineyard, without a bumper crop in sight.

The choir  they might have been, but, still, a searching choir, and a heartbroken one, at that.  Cozzens told them this was not the worst period in the Church’s history, but it was certainly John of the Cross’s Dark Night of the Soul, calling for grace and the support of one another to make their way through it.  A joke set the audience at ease immediately.

It was a Sunday morning when the mother of the household ascended the stairs to remind her son about his obligation to attend Mass.

“ You’ve got to get up now, son, or we’ll be late.”
“ I don’t want to go to Mass today.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t like me, and I don’t like them.”
“That’s no excuse.  You must get out of that bed and get to Mass.”
“No, I won’t.  I’m going to stay under the covers forever.”
“Son, it’s Sunday.  Now, out of that bed. 
“Why?”
“Because you must get to the church. You’re the pastor!”

Then, Cozzens offered on a more serious note, a quote he would return to again and again throughout the evening.  It’s from Blaise Pascal (1623-1662) “I have discovered that all human evil comes from this, man’s being unable to sit still in a room.”  Pensees, 67.

Kind of reminds me of Shaw’s invitation to sit on the hillside, listening to the ringing of the bells after the Angelus.  Time out to be quiet, to ponder over our inner voice, and to be attentive to the voice of God, so we can listen to the voices of our brothers and sisters.  Cozzens went further, and said we must be ready to share the fruits of our contemplation with others.  That may come easily for the Baptists and Quakers, but for Catholics who rarely utter any religious word in public beyond a memorized prayer?  A tall order.  But Cozzens was serious.  A mandate he gave. For everyone.

He talked about the Institutional Church, in which bishops are teachers, but he also pointed out that they must be learners, listening to the people, attentive to their joys and sorrows, fellow travelers on the journey, adults to adults, creating community and a culture of mutuality. Made me think of Jesus with the woman at the well, the apostles finding a fish fry on the seashore, a distraught father hoping for a miraculous cure for his daughter.

A message in the generous priest’s talk can be found on the fly leaf of his book, Sacred Silence: Denial and the Crisis in the Church.

In the present climate the laity sense what many church authorities are reluctant to acknowledge – that the present troubles go well beyond the priest abuse debacle.  Underneath the mushrooming scandals and the painful polarization shaking the confidence of the faithful, a church stands at the brink of destabilization.  How could it be otherwise?  A still feudal church struggles to meet the modern world as the modern world merges with post-modern currents of thought that threaten religious belief as we know it. We may not have reason to be afraid, but we have abundant reason to be anxious.  And as history makes clear, where anxiety dwells, imagination shrivels, denial thrives, and control becomes obsessive.

Why are we afraid?  Why is the institutional church so defensive? Why is it so controlling?  How is it that a church that is the bearer of the Word and the champion of the oppressed can maintain unholy silences while denying that obvious pastoral and ecclesial problems, indeed crises, even exist?

Cozzens pointed out that the Institutional Church cannot maintain its isolationist stance in the midst of an educated laity, which began with the G.I. Bill, making possible educational opportunities for the returning G.I.’s. While the priest waited around long enough to be available for conversation during the refreshment period after the talk, my comment regarding his statement would have taken up more time than I would have wanted. He had been on his feet for hours. Time for a rest.

The fact is, that long before the G.I. Bill, young Catholic students and workers were being educated in the faith beyond the Baltimore Catechism by a lay apostolate movement begun by Cardinal Joseph Cardijn, whose story has been brought up from the  Archives, in case you missed it the first time around. (Cardinal Joseph Cardijn’s lay apostolate)

Eventually, Cardijn journeyed to Notre Dame, and spread his creative plans for youth to Father Louis Putz, which resulted in the Catholic Action movement,the creation of Young Catholic Students and Young Catholic Workers organizations, and, eventually, the Christian Family Movement under the leadership of Pat and Patty Crowley.

Father Monsignor Reynold Hillenbrand and his phalanx of inspired young priests, like the late Jack Egan, hit the streets running after their ordination day and never stopped serving God’s people of all ages.

Whenever Father Martin Carrabine, S.J. spoke before Catholic Action meetings in Chicago, he would leave a space in the program for young people’s questions, and if there were none, he would wait until they were offered.  If you weren’t asking questions, you weren’t learning, and if you weren’t learning, you would never be able to teach in the lay apostolate, and if you were not going to teach, what were you doing in Catholic Action?

Some of us look on those years as Chicago’s Golden Years of the Lay Apostolate.   Next time, there is a gathering of senior Catholics at the Priory in River Forest, it would be interesting to learn how many have wonderful memories of that period in the Church, under the leadership of priests who both led and served their people.

When they told their followers to pray, they prayed more; sacrificed more; worked harder.  During the War, they were with the mothers, fathers, and young people as the blue stars on street after street turned to gold.  In the evening, they offered Scripture classes, and the writings of Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, Teresa of Avila, etc.

One afternoon, when I was sitting under a palm tree in Santa Clara, with the then retired Jesuit, Alaskan explorer, Father Bernard Hubbard, discussing the lectures he gave annually about his adventures to young people, I recalled how impressed we were by the fact that in all the years he had spent in that rugged, sometimes terrifying, always wondrous territory, he never once missed offering Mass, using a miniature altar stone and vessels.  I asked him if he still offered Mass daily, despite the fact that he was quite ill with heart trouble.  He looked at me and said quietly that he wouldn’t be able to survive without doing so.

Since he had done so much work for Hollywood with his Alaskan films, he was given the best entertainment films to show to the football teams he baby-sat to keep them on campus before the games, and he would give me films he had previewed for my high school girls from the public schools, who met once a month for Mass, breakfast, a brief talk, and a movie, free of any offensive words.  To the end, Father Hubbard never lost his love for young people. There must be thousands, who still cherish his memory and his goodness.

Today, Father Don Cozzens is still carrying on that tradition by writing and speaking for Catholics all over this land, who are praying, questioning, and hoping for another Golden Age of the Church, even a Church with married and women clergy.

Blessings on each of you, and all dear to you. You are not alone out there.
Cozzens tells you so.  Amen.  Amen. 

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