II

MESSENGER OF HOPE

  Arriving in Duluth in late October 1968, Anderson was struck by the oceanlike beauty of Lake Superior and the steep, wooded hills. The scene, so different from the prairies of South Dakota, evoked powerful memories of the ocean and hills of his native New England. "It was almost like being home again." An avid outdoorsman, he drew strength and inspiration from nature and he soon came to love the natural beauty of the area he now called home. As Monsignor McEneaney so eloquently put it, Anderson "reveled in the beauty of creation. How he loved the lakes, the woods and hills of Northern Minnesota! Unique among all episcopal vehicles in the United States was his automobile, with canoe on top, bicycle on the back, and camper in tow."

    Meeting Paul Anderson was an experience never to be forgotten. The 51-year-old six footer with black hair and striking eyes--eyes alive with warmth and compassion--related to people more as a person than as a bishop. Anderson believed that an authentic minister of the Gospel did not allow his office or professional expertise to stand in the way of Christlike service. Father Stanton, a long-time friend, described the bishop's great gift: he made every person feel special, he made every person feel he or she was his "particular, very special friend."

    Interested in people since his youth, the new bishop loved gatherings. He continued the open house at Christmas started by Bishop Schenk enlisting all available help, staff and friends, to decorate the house and prepare for guests, some of whom had no place to go for the holidays. Anderson greeted his 30 or 40 guests at the door, personally cooked dinner and prepared elaborate desserts. Lively conversation and the singing of carols created the family atmosphere that he treasured.

    Some of Anderson's happiest moments were spent with families--camping, hiking, biking, swimming, and visiting. Always sensitive to children, he was a grandfriend to many. Families treasure warm memories of hours spend with this remarkable man who, like a ray of sunshine, brightened their lives and served as a reflection of God's love.

    Anderson's love of people and community also explains his joy at the annual Ojibwa celebration held over the Memorial Day weekend. Community was fostered with mass, visiting and feasting. At this all-day event, the bishop, who had been close to the Sioux when he served in South Dakota, came decked out in his Sioux headdress and enthusiastically joined the celebration visiting with Ojibwa friends.

    Those lucky enough to spend time with the charismatic bishop soon discovered that he was bright and well read keeping abreast of the latest developments in theology, biblical studies, ministry, and spiritual direction. Despite his obvious intelligence, Paul Anderson was haunted by self-doubt about his intellectual ability; he harbored painful memories of being called stupid and of his struggle to pass Latin.

    Though conversant with the latest ideas, the bishop never forgot that he lacked advanced degrees. His expertise was being a parish priest and most of his ideas were based on lived experience and common sense. Paul Anderson was an introspective and highly sensitive person, with an acute awareness of the human dimension--people's needs and concerns. Inclined to be supportive and nonjudgmental, he had difficulty with the disciplinary aspects of his office. On the other hand, his ability to empathize and provide emotional support was ideal for the pastoral side of his episcopal role.

    First and foremost, Anderson was a pastor and he took to heart Cushing's advice that a bishop should be out of his office more than he was in it--indeed it came naturally for him since he never cared for administrative tasks or paper work. He would gladly stop whatever he was doing to greet visitors and give them his undivided attention. Most of his time was devoted to counseling, advising and above all encouraging. He was so interested in people that it was difficult for him to focus on essential matters of administration.

    Anderson was committed to the ideas of Vatican II and worked to implement them with every ounce of his energy and strength. He realized that education was needed to prepare Catholics for new forms of religious life. The liturgy had been a central symbol of the unchanging nature of the church. As reforms were implemented from 1964 to 1970, the language of the mass was changed from Latin to English, altars were simplified to look more like tables, and arranged so that priests faced the people. Laymen and women were more actively involved in the liturgy as lectors and Eucharistic ministers. Architecture changed as Catholics built modern rather than medieval looking churches. Meatless Fridays, an important symbol of Catholic identity, eventually disappeared. Confessions became far less frequent. As theologian Patrick W. Carey explains, "these mutations were not matters of small consequence, because they touched the lives of many Catholics who had been accustomed to thinking about their religious life and their own religious identity in terms of these...practices and customs."

    The reform of church governance, with a timid move away from monarchical authority, was another important result of the council. This trend was very near to Anderson's heart and he enthusiastically supported the establishment of pastoral councils: parish, regional and diocesan.

    Anderson's leadership was rooted in his deep conviction that Vatican II renewal must not be limited to external things such as liturgy and governance; it needed to reach much deeper changing hearts and minds. He stressed education. The bishop took pains to explain current practices and the reasons for them. Committed to the Vatican II vision of the church, Anderson tried to foster a new attitude toward the diocesan church arguing that it was the entire People of God and not just the bishop, the chancery and the priests. Renewal required a new attitude. The people needed to accept freedom and responsibility if the church was to move away from decisions made by the bishop alone to decisions made by the consensus of many.

    Anderson took on more responsibilities as the ordinary of the diocese, Francis J. Schenk, suffering from an inoperable malignant brain tumor, became less and less able to administer the diocese. On May 1, 1969 Anderson became Bishop of Duluth. Believing that ordinaries were not effective for long periods of time, he decided that his tenure in Duluth would be limited. After a period of time, Anderson hoped to turn the position over to a younger man, better suited to carry the heavy burdens, while he moved to a new ministry.

    Among the burdens of his office were the sharp and bitter disputes over the meaning of Vatican II. Anderson was nettled by complaints from conservatives who argued that the church was in danger of losing its way and that heresy was rampant. Some, influenced by a conservative organization, Catholics United for the Faith (CUF), accepted Vatican II's documents, but opposed liberal interpretations. They were strongly opposed to unauthorized liturgical experiments, to what they perceived as Modernism (condemned by Pope St. Pius X in 1907), to the ideas advanced by certain theologians and biblical scholars, and to the weakened authority of the magisterium, the teaching authority of the pope and bishops. At an October 1974 CUF-sponsored talk, Father Daniel Lyons, S.J. told his Iron Range audience that the church was threatened by the ideas of Modernist theologians such as Father Hans Kung, University of Tubingen in Germany and Father Richard McBrien, University of Notre Dame in the United States. Conservatives expected Anderson to end what they regarded as unauthorized liturgical practices.

    In contrast, some liberals argued that he was too attached to the clerical system. Caught in the crossfire, Anderson suffered sleepless nights and finally concluded that the vehement debate was diverting attention from the real issue: people in need. Who would feed the hungry? Who would care for the ill?

    In the face of pessimism, the bishop was determined to be a messenger of hope: "My mission seems to be to supply the encouragement and the hope that is so lacking in many of God's people. This I try to do despite the whirlwinds of pessimism that blow all around us." He warned that it was unrealistic to expect a return to the "apparent serenity" of the pre-conciliar era since the world was experiencing broad cultural change that was impacting the church. Convinced that Catholicism would eventually emerge renewed and revitalized, Anderson looked forward to a bright future. In the meantime, he urged Catholics to deal with the turmoil by remembering the core of the Christian faith. This would restore hope!

    In the March 1972 issue of the diocesan newspaper, OUTLOOK, the bishop devoted his column to death and resurrection and the need to focus on the core of the church's message. Recalling many of his own personal experiences with death, including his traumatic first assignment when he served patients in three Massachusetts hospitals, Anderson reminded his readers that a Catholic should never lose sight of the root meaning of life, death and resurrection. He warned: "Of late we have been so preoccupied with problems of liturgical change, the authority crisis, ecumenism, celibacy, vocations, community, relevancy, infallibility and sundry other problems that affect the contemporary Church, that some of the more fundamental issues seem to be passed over or even totally neglected.... Certainly the present ferment and seeming turmoil in the Church is necessary and healthy, for it is a sign of life. But it is also necessary to put it all in proper focus and understand that the heart of the Gospel message centers around the person of Jesus."

    His ministry of hope proved to be most difficult in a cynical era haunted by questions raised by the Cold War, nuclear weapons, and the war in Vietnam. His mission was especially difficult since many Catholics, both conservatives and liberals, thought the church had lost its way and was not providing the moral leadership they expected--indeed demanded. The bishop soon discovered how difficult and exhausting it was to spread hope. Moreover, while supporting others, he, like every Christian, had to live with his own weaknesses and insecurities.

    The bishop also brought hope by ending the financial problems that "hovered like a dark cloud over the entire diocese." The financial plight was discussed at a series of meetings by a small group of priests and laypeople and a new system was born: United Catholic Appeal (UCA). This system, based on the plan Anderson had pioneered in South Dakota, replaced the old method of fund-raising--parish assessments and special collections. The new approach was centered on the People of God vision of the church. Anderson opposed bazaars, bingo, raffles, games, prizes, and other fund-raising gimmicks that obscured Gospel values. He was in the business of selling religion not raffle tickets. As a man of faith, the bishop wanted Catholics to realize that they were the church, the People of God, and that they had a responsibility to learn about poverty--local, national and global--and to render Christian service. If the Gospel was as important as Catholics claimed, it should stand on its own merit and the people of the diocese should develop a Christian attitude toward material goods.

    UCA worked! In January 1972, the bishop happily reported that UCA had enabled "the diocese to turn a financial corner." Most importantly, UCA publicity, stressing poverty and the need for Christian service, was an effective educational tool. A questionnaire mailed to all the parishes showed that Catholics had become more aware of local, national and global needs and often developed a stronger sense of belonging to their parishes. In short, UCA had led to a change of heart and mind.

    The bishop thought that Catholics, as the People of God, had a right to know how their money was being spent. Financial reports were published in OUTLOOK and people were invited to examine the books. The clear explanations of the Christian reasons for sharing coupled with openness about how diocesan money was being spent led to successful UCA campaigns and eased the financial burden. Over the course of time, parish quotas and special collections returned, but the original idea of using the campaign to educate Catholics must never be forgotten. The bishop's astute observation that Catholics needed to develop a Christian attitude toward material goods stands as a challenge to this day.

    UCA did not end all the problems. Cathedral High School, which experienced one financial crisis after another, was a serious drain on the resources of the diocese. Despite the problems, the bishop was determined, to keep the school open since he believed that an alternative form of education was needed. To save the school and its religious values, he enthusiastically endorsed a plan proposed by Robert J. Rich, a 1936 Cathedral graduate. Cathedral changed from a Catholic to an ecumenical institution based on the Judeo-Christian tradition. It began its first full year as an ecumenical school in the fall of 1972. Once again, acting as a messenger of hope, Anderson was instrumental in saving an important institution, now known as the Marshall School, that is still serving the greater Duluth-Superior area. It was but another example of his commitment to a change of heart and mind in accordance with the People of God vision; he listened to laypeople and was willing to share his power with them.

    Bishop Anderson, like many Catholics, was deeply troubled by a decreasing number of priests and nuns. The national trend was evident in the Diocese of Duluth which had "146 priests in 1970, 143 in 1975 and 138 in 1979." The number of religious sisters "dropped from 397 to 367 in 1975 and 346 in 1979." Anderson was painfully aware that the average age of priests was rising and the number of students preparing for ordination was steadily decreasing. Closing parishes, because of a lack of priests, took away an important part of peoples' lives--the sacred places of first communions, marriages and funerals, significant markers of personal and family history. What consolation could the bishop offer? The best he could do was to assure people that their old parish would live on in their memories. The bishop's effort to console recalls the sentiments expressed by Rick (Humphrey Bogart) in the movie CASABLANCA. To comfort Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) and himself as they parted, presumably forever, Rick pointed out that they would always have their beautiful memories of their romance in Paris. Though memories are important, they are not a complete answer and Anderson, messenger of hope though he was, could not make the pain disappear. His hope for the future centered on lay ministry.

    Despite his profound sorrow at the loss of so many talented men from the active priesthood, Anderson remained a true friend to those who left. He responded to their departure on a deep personal level. When James P. Shannon, an Auxiliary Bishop of St. Paul, resigned and married, Anderson expressed what was in his heart: "I suppose I am one of the countless many that is making a real effort to adjust my thinking and my feelings to your new life style. Somehow or other your picture in the NCR [NATIONAL CATHOLIC REPORTER], attired as you were in jacket and tie and standing beside your new wife, left me with mixed emotions. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I guess I just felt that things shouldn't be this way."

    Anderson was quick to apologize for not offering the emotional support that Shannon needed: "At the moment I feel sad to be numbered among the many around you who made little effort to offer you the sympathy, understanding and love that you most sorely needed during these past trying months. For this I ask your pardon. All that I can offer you now is my daily prayers that God's grace will guide you in the fulfillment of His holy will." Anderson and Shannon continued to correspond. Shannon, in his autobiography, RELUCTANT DISSENTER (1998), wrote: "Paul Anderson...was the kind of bishop Jesus Christ had in mind when he put together the original team."

    Even closer to home, when Francis X. Shea, president of a Catholic College in Duluth, St. Scholastica, left the active priesthood, Anderson visited Shea's parents to ease their pain and help in the healing process. In January 1975, the bishop scolded TIME magazine for branding Shea, then chancellor of Antioch College an "apostate." This "was more than a misuse of language, it was an attack on one of man's most cherished possessions his reputation." Shea was still a Catholic and had left the Jesuits in accordance with canonical procedures. The bishop was quick to add that Shea had served St. Scholastica and the Duluth community well.

    Bishop Anderson also provided hope for those who believed that laymen and women should be involved in the decisions that impacted their religious lives. To form the People of God, the bishop had to nudge many pastors and parishioners to form parish councils, an action urged by his predecessor Bishop Schenk. Anderson faced a dilemma: if he used his authority to force parishes to establish councils he would be returning to the authoritarian ways of the past, but if he did nothing, he would not be able to implement his vision. His answer was education.

    In 1976 Father William Rademacher, a professor at St. John's Seminary in Plymouth, Michigan, offered workshops in the diocese. Father Rademacher, like Bishop Anderson, viewed parish councils as communities. Councils, he argued, should do more than deal with parish finances; they should foster prayer and play an active role in peace and justice issues. Education was the only viable approach for the bishop, but it was a slow way to implement his vision.

    In addition to parish councils, five regional pastoral councils were formed: Brainerd-Case Lake, Hibbing-Grand Rapids, Virginia-Border Area, Cloquet-Pine City, and Duluth-North Shore. His next step was to establish a diocesan pastoral council to coordinate social, economic and educational activities.
    The bishop had reason to be pleased since the diocese was moving in the direction that he advocated, but as he himself realized there was a problem. In December 1972, writing to Monsignor William Granville, a Massachusetts friend, Anderson confided, "we are right in the middle of setting up a Diocesan Pastoral Council and meetings seem to be proliferating all over the place. Sooner or later, we will have to get rid of some of our organizations and limit the number of meetings that we can attend. Whether we do so or not voluntarily, I think it will happen." Anderson's concern was telling, especially in light of the large geographic spread of the diocese, harsh winters and poor driving conditions. How many meetings could people fit into their busy lives? There was an even larger question that the bishop never asked. How long would the rather elaborate structure of councils--parish, regional and diocesan--last without his charismatic personality to draw people to meetings?

    The bishop had managed to lead the diocese in the direction of shared responsibility. He now came up with a bold plan--so bold that it sparked a steady stream of criticism. To foster renewal, Anderson planned a large Easter celebration for all the parishes in the City of Duluth. His plan flowed from who he was. It reflected his love of large celebrations, his sense of adventure, but above all his desire for the physical presence of the People of God.

    On Easter morning 1972, 8,000 men, women and children packed the Duluth Entertainment Convention Center. The service, drawing people together from diverse areas and economic groups, allowed them to see the city's priests join their bishop in a moving liturgy. The Easter celebration, one of the highlights of Anderson's years in Duluth, did not just happen--it was the result of careful planning, spiritual programs, talks by teams of religious sisters, and pastoral visits to all the parishes by the bishop himself.

    Deeply touched by the enthusiastic response--people moved to tears during the celebration and happy faces in the parking lot--Anderson described it as "simply fantastic." The bishop rejoiced that people were still filled with enthusiasm weeks later and was pleased with national coverage in publications such as WORSHIP, LITURGY MAGAZINE, LIVING WORSHIP, and the NATIONAL CATHOLIC REPORTER. A major high point in his life, the celebration gave him an experience of the Risen Lord. The bishop, a messenger of hope to others, now felt JOY in his own heart. The seeds were planted that would lead him to the charismatic movement.