FatherMike

I lived in an interesting Zip code once my family moved out of Detroit.  The large perimeter was Bloomfield Township, an interesting mix of colonial subdivisions and ranch houses that were built by former Detroiters who wanted lots and lots of land, but not really all that much more house.  The smaller center of the donut was filled with Bloomfield Hills, the home of real mansions, serious country clubs, and lots of automotive executives.  At one point, this was the second wealthiest Zip code per capita in the country, and everyone knew why.  While the barely-not-blue-collar residents of Bloomfield Township often played a regular round of “which utility isn’t getting paid this month”, Bloomfield Hills residents were planning their next ski trip to Aspen, never worrying about flight reservations, since they owned the plane that took them there.

Downtown Bloomfield Hills was a bit of an oxymoron—a jeweler, a furrier, a $100-a-plate restaurant—so the only place in town where both worlds briefly intersected was the Catholic church.  Conveniently located a half mile from the Township-City border, it was built by a pre-Mad Men advertising executive, whose family was buried in the church basement. While the church tried to develop a sense of brotherhood, the distinctions were still there.  Bleary-eyed Township residents threw on a coat and tie and got to church on time, while City residents were literally fashionably late, dressed to the nines, laden with sunglasses and enough gold jewelry to fund a developing country.  The reading of the Beatitudes was cause for either pathos or delight, as some swore City residents were known to pull down their sunglasses and glare at Township members when the reader got to “Blessed are the poor…”

This was the dynamic Father Mike inherited when he arrived at the church.  A very senior priest had retired—“The pastor is going to the pasture” was his farewell slogan for about two years—who was well versed in the diplomacy of suburban churches.  Father Mike followed him, and while he was affable and really a great guy, his accent and demeanor clearly indicated he had been born and raised in the poor side of New York City.  That kind of experience can be the perfect training for working with those looking for salvation.  Almost from the beginning, there was uncertainty if it was the right background for a church where a large chunk of the congregation was convinced they could buy their salvation.

Father Mike knew what he was up against, and it often showed during his sermons.  Each one started with good intentions, but diffidence soon set in, and the resulting long pauses led to a mixed sense of empathy (Township residents) and impatience (City).  This came to a head one fall Sunday, when things were going particularly badly for Father Mike.  After a very long pause, he looked up from his notes, and with what can only be described as the most genuinely childlike expression any adult has ever worn, he looked at his congregation and said:

“It’s no different, you know.  Heaven.  It’s just more of the same, if we live the right life here.  That’s what Jesus was trying to tell us.”

And suddenly, as never before, the entire church of Bloomfield Hills and Township was one.

Father Mike retired a few years later, and I was at his last mass.  Without looking up, he effused gratitude for the retirement color TV the congregation had bought him, and thanked us for the chance to serve us.

Ever since, Blessed are the meek has had a name and a face.  

Morning Mead

Nighttime fires long past flame
Leaves morning trumped by deep dark chill
And ‘fore my time my commerce claims
I hope to find a moment still
But frost nipped rooms make insight rare
What can there be to help me bear?

A modest woman clad in wool
With shoes of wood and thick green socks
Advised me on these days to pull
My hands around a goblet stocked
Of honey thick hot water thin
A hint of lemon on the rim.

With nightstand corner spot secure
It billows greetings to the sky
I readjust my pillows sure
Its comfort will embrace me nigh
As I consider how I may
Improve the world through this day.

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