On Detroit
David O’Brien, PhD., Professor of Roman Catholic Studies at Holy Cross and historian of contemporary American Catholicism prepared the following manuscript in 1977 (for a book on the history of contemporary American Catholicism. He added remarks this year. The national event of the American Catholic Council is scheduled for June 9-11 (Pentecost), 2011—35 years after the convening of Call to Action by Cardinal Deardon in Detroit—to examine the impact and future of the Second Vatican Council on American Catholicism.
Detroit
Downtown Detroit provides living evidence that the urban crisis, so discussed in the sixties, had not been resolved. Cab drivers warned early arrivals for the Call to Action conference of the supposedly unspeakable perils of the Cobo Hall neighborhood. In fact, delegates swarmed the area at all hours and its residents were invariably kind and helpful. The Cadillac, conference headquarters, was once among the nation’s most elegant hotels; in October, 1976, it was in receivership. Its best rooms had an aged dignity that reminded people of a favorite 1930s film, while a lobby filled with scaffolds and painters signaled its struggle for survival.
Into this tense, struggling city came 2500 Catholics to debate the future of their church. When Cardinal Dearden opened the Call to Action conference on Thursday, October 21, 1351 voting delegates were registered (diocesan delegates, minimum of six per diocese, were chosen by bishops, who used whatever method they preferred, with guidelines on race, gender and age and provision for additional delegates for larger dioceses, and there were about 90 delegates from organizations, one per organizations—-invitations sent to organizations in the Kennedy directory) while another 1000 observers filled the bleachers on either side of the raised platform on which sat Dearden and other conference officials. Delegates were seated by diocese, with the name of each standing high above the seats. A later tabulation of a random sampling of delegates indicated that most came to Detroit skeptical that much could be accomplished but, as the conference opened, there was a festive mood. Reports from the rules and agenda committees were received without comment as a steady hum of apparently cheerful voices almost drowned out the committee chairpersons. When Archbishop Peter Gerety came forward to present the report of the credentials committee, however, his loud, twangy voice caught and subdued the crowd. Gerety announced that his committee had met on Wednesday with a dozen persons seeking delegate status (these were from groups like dignity and womens ordination conference not in kennedy). After careful consideration and in a mood of openness, the bishops bicentennial committee had voted to seat each one. The decision contradicted earlier rulings regarding the need to seat only national organizations and to exclude delegates representing a single religious community. Nevertheless, following Gerety’s lead, the committee determined that the numbers involved were not significant and the issue was not worth taking the risk of opening the conference with an exclusionary decision. Here, once again, the informal, advisory nature of the entire bicentennial program allowed flexibility and common sense to prevail.
Gerety’s announcement of this decision was greeted with enthusiastic applause. His report on credentials, however, also brought the meeting its first controversy. Several Spanish-speaking delegates rose to challenge the proportion of their numbers. They argued that, while in their view the Hispanic people accounted for one-fourth of the Catholic population, only 12% of the delegates were of Hispanic origin, a guess based on their careful recruitment of delegates the previous day and later proven slightly exaggerated (Latino leaders manned the hotel and the conference registration area, inviting diocesan delegates who were Hispanic for coffee and an orientation—tried to get Spanish speaking presence on all the subcommittees, and some preliminary strategy—–some other groups did the same kind of organizing but the Hispanics were very impressive). Dearden, realizing that the bishops’ committee was in fact the court of last resort, finally ruled a Hispanic speaker out of order and his ruling was upheld by a ringing voice vote. While the Spanish delegates had made their case with great passion, they showed little bitterness and proceeded to participate actively, and sometimes decisively, in the work of the conference.
The second challenge to Gerety’s credentials report was equally serious. Rev. A.J. Madiaj of Chicago’s Mundelein Seminary strongly but good naturedly castigated the bishops and the conference staff for ignoring “one particular ethnic group.” He repeated publicly charges which the Polish-American Catholic community had made over several months but, unfortunately, he never specified which “particular ethnic group” was involved. Few participants had caught his name when he was recognized by the chair; those who had were uncertain of the nationality. So, while the priest made an eloquent and, in fact, solidly based case for discrimination, the effect was lost. When he finished, he received a scattering of applause, but, as he made no motion, Gerety proceeded to ask for a voice vote accepting his committee’s report.
With this preliminary business completed, Dearden delivered his welcoming remarks, the only formal address of the three day conference. Dearden began by reflecting on the American church’s long history of pluralism, and its equally long tradition of meetings and conferences designed to insure the unity of the church and provide an effective national witness. “This extraordinary assembly,” as Dearden called it, was intended to “respond to the needs of our people as these have been revealed through two years of discussions, hearings and reflection.” The delegates were to do this by helping the American Catholic community “translate its sincere commitment to liberty and justice into concrete programs of action.”
The bishops bicentennial program was for Dearden one step in the process of renewal initiated by the Vatican Council. In the United States, he argued, renewal required “both as affirmation of our rich pluralism and a strong national organization and . . . must take account of the pressing needs of our people and the people of our country and our world.” The regional hearings had helped to reveal those needs, so had the admittedly incomplete parish and diocesan program. People are frequently studied and surveyed, the Cardinal argued, “only rarely are they asked directly to speak up and be heard; so rarely, in fact, that many greet the invitation with understandable skepticism.” Having listened, the bishops and the delegates knew something of the vast “human resources” of the church and needed “to carry forward, today, together, the work that has been begun, to unlock the structures of Church and world so that the spirit and energy of our people can flourish and contribute to renewing our communities.”
In summarizing the proposals before the house, Dearden noted their affirmation of shared responsibility. From his own experience with the program he described the respectful and cooperative attitude of the participants, their modesty and humility, the absence of any spirit of complaining. Instead he thought the spirit one of mutual affection and support. He asked the delegates to work in a similar spirit, recognizing and accepting their diversity. “We will have considerable controversy within this hall and will probably generate some controversy outside it,” Dearden accurately predicted. “If we could meet and easily agree on policy for the Church and the nation, we probably would not have wrestled with any problem of significance.”
The highlight of Dearden’s speech came in a thoughtful passage where he suggested that, if the process were reversed and teams of priests, religious and laity toured the country to take the testimony of bishops, they would hear words that would differ only in specific details from what had been heard during the last two years.
We, too, remain excited and challenged by the renewal of the Church initiated by the Second Vatican Council, and chastened by the experience of having tried, as best we could, to implement that spirit in our own local churches. We have been frustrated and angry with ourselves, with our priests and people; we have made some mistakes, had some moments of heroism and some moments of weakness. We have tried to learn from the experience, have tried to keep moving forward in spite of the setbacks. Like most people of our generation, we bishops have had to try to grasp and make our own the new visions and hopes excited by renewal while remaining faithful to the beliefs and customs of our childhood and our families. Like them, too, we have probably sometimes wished things would just slow down a bit, that something,–the family, the parish, the liturgy,–would just regain some of the stability and strength we think it had not too long ago. Most of all, I think we have all wished there were some way we could relate more directly and intimately with our people, share their burdens and have them share ours, know their anguish and let them know our own. If nothing else has happened to those of us who took part in this process, we at least learned this; that when we take the risk of listening and being open to our people, they demonstrate almost without exception a sensitivity to our feelings and a willingness to share our problems with us, if we will only let them.
Finally, Dearden invited the delegates to vigorously participate in responding to the needs set forth over two years. His concluding words spoke so directly to many of the issues that arose in later controversy that they deserve to be quoted in full:
All of us in this hall are against racism and war and hypocrisy and violence; all of us are committed to the Gospel of Jesus, a Gospel of peace and justice and love and brotherhood and sisterhood; the tough part is translating all that into action. Translating it into a community of faith which conducts worship and prayer and education and works of charity and social service. Translating it into a moral position on questions of public significance, impacting on the processes by which legislation and public policy are made, because it is there that the basic work of justice is done in modern society. Both the pastoral task of building the Church, and the political task of building the world, involve choices, concrete and specific choices of how to spend our money, make our decisions, allocate our resources, direct our personal and collective allocation of time, treasure, and talent. None of us knows for sure how bets to do these things, none of us can be certain that our program of reform is exactly what the Lords intends for us today. So we have no choice, if we are to be community of both faith and freedom, except to meet, debate and make some decisions. That is what we are trying to do here. We are trying to begin a new way of doing the work of the Church in America. We may fail, but let us try and let people in the nation say of us that they cared enough to try.
Dearden’s address was moderate, and pastoral and was warmly received. His remarks, indeed, reflected and tried to transcend the ambiguities of the entire bicentennial program. He promised that the bishops would seriously consider the results of the conference, but we warned against unrealistic expectations. He urged delegates to use their best judgment, but also to pay close attention to the needs revealed through the consultative process. He emphasized the authority of the bishops and the advisory character of the assembly, but also took note of the deliberative character of the event and the heavy responsibilities of the delegates. Finally, by turning the process around and speaking candidly of the humanity of the bishops, he invited a trusting dialogue and set a tone of openness and goodwill that would indeed permeate the proceedings. In his opening speech, and in his conduct throughout the three days, Dearden established himself as the symbolic leader of all those who came to Detroit with chastened, modest hopes that the post-Vatican II dream for the church could be realized in communion with the bishops. This was the first event of its kind for an American church without a center of loyalty; for a moment Detroit provided that center and Dearden was its personification.
Following Dearden’s address, the real work of the conference began. Delegates gathered in the eight topic areas to question the writing committees and to clarify their own task. Smaller groups then gathered around each of the conference resolutions, spending the rest of the day and will into the night in intense discussion. When they had finished revising each resolution, a team of typists and a local printing firm worked through the night so that at 8:00 a.m., Friday morning, copies of these first revisions were available for all conference delegates and observers. Eight section meetings then revised and debated these resolutions through the morning and early afternoon. When the delegates gathered in plenary session at 3:30 Friday afternoon, each had a copy of the second revision of the resolutions on family life and nationhood, with the other reports to follow. Egan opened the plenary session by asking the observers, with hands extended toward the delegates, to pray that they would be guided by the Holy Spirit in the serious work before them.
A young couple, the husband in military dress and the wife clasping his hand, then presented the first resolution on family life and the tedious process of amendment, debate and vote began. By 6:00 p.m. three resolutions on family life, family ministry and divorce had been passed overwhelmingly.
Friday evening was taken up with a massive liturgy, concelebrated by over 100 bishops. A mixture of traditional and modern music somewhat confused the participants, but they were deeply moved by the homily of Auxiliary Bishop Joseph Francis of Newark, delivered in darkness with a moving series of slides as backdrop.
A highlight of the liturgy was described later in Bishop Thomas Grady’s report to the people of the diocese of Orlando, Florida:
After the homily a young woman who had been seated in the sanctuary, came to the microphone to lead the people in the general intercession or the prayers of the faithful. Only in the first few petitions was there a nervously high pitch in her voice. After that, she confidently read out the petitions and called on the cardinals and bishops and 2,000 people: “Let us pray to the Lord.” She was Rose Guzman from the Archdiocese of Los Angeles–a slender, pretty girl in blue jeans, a severe black sweater with some bright color like epaulets at the shoulder, her long, straight black hair falling over her shoulders down to the middle of her back. Her father is a farm worker who was born in Mexico and who works in the fields. Her mother is a housewife and mother of 10 children. The family lives in a farmworkers’ camp. Rosa, 20, is a college girl. She has worked in the fields. When home from college she lives in the camp. She no longer works in the fields but tries to use her education for the betterment of her people.
Rosa, the farmworker’s daughter in the sanctuary with the cardinals and archbishops, leading the assembly in prayer–that’s what was happening in Cobo Hall. What does that mean for tomorrow? Rosa symbolized the fact that laymen and laywomen are taking a new place in the Church. She symbolizes the fact that the underprivileged are taking a new and better place in the world. Somehow, it seems to me, the events of Cobo Hall meant that tomorrow is for Rosa.
Dearden held a reception for delegates following the service. People were excited but subdued, tired by the hard work they had already done, a bit nervous at the massive task that awaited them the next day. Small groups drifted off to the hotels, met for brief relaxation in lounges and bars, most cutting this short for sleep.
Saturday, they began again promptly at 8:30 a.m. Under the careful direction of Ms. Herman (Alexis Herman, an African American Catholic from Atlanta, served as co-chair with Monsignor John Egan—–Herman later served as Secretary of Labor in the Clinton administration) then Monsignor Egan, the convention ground its way through the business at hand. Most amendments never made it through the “shall it be considered” stage. Some did, and a few evoked lively debate. Almost all the many amendments offered by the outnumbered conservatives were defeated. Occasionally the delegates would accept a modifying clause, but in general they tended to affirm the work that had been done by sections and working committees. Later, critics would focus on their speedy approval of complex recommendations as evidence of a lack of careful deliberation at the conference. Some would point to the defeat of an amendment offered by James Finn of Worldview magazine, a member of the Dearden committee. Finn unsuccessfully attempted to insert language drawn from conciliar and papal statements into the near-pacifist resolution on disarmament, intending to allow consideration of deterrence policy and the possession of nuclear weapons. Yet, whatever one may think of the content of the amendments and the recommendations as approved, it is well to remember that each recommendation had received up to seven hours of consideration in the small working committees and, in groups of three, another four to six hours of consideration in the section meetings. Most of the amendments had already been considered and defeated before the plenary session.
On the platform during the long day, Dearden and Archbishop Jean Jadot, Apostolic Delegate to the United States, smiled and seemed to be enjoying the proceedings, but in the corridor some bishops were expressing their dismay at the scope and intensity of the resolutions, the pace of debate which seemed to foreclose a serious exchange of views, and the apparent power of such “interest groups” as Dignity and the Women’s Ordination Conference. They stated their concern, sometimes quite passionately, to Bernardin (at that time Presdient of the Bishops Conference, earlier Chair of the Bicentennial Committee—Rome and fellow bishops assigned him some responsibility and he did not like it and his post remarks to the press were mildly critical and set the tone for the post-event controversy) and Rausch (James Rausch was General Secretary of the USCC and later Archbishop of Phoenix). The former had decided, on the eve of the meeting, not to be an official voting delegate, and he maintained a low profile throughout. Rausch himself was disturbed, even offended, by the resolution on disarmament. A courageous and committed exponent of international justice and peace, Rausch had greatly strengthened the role of the international office of the USCC. He felt that the leaders of the justice and peace groups had placed him in an embarrassing position by an intransigent resolution which he thought amounted to a call for unilateral disarmament. He was even more upset by the complaints of some of his brother bishops, a few of whom were suggesting somewhat crudely that he was responsible for the entire event.
By mid-afternoon the tired delegates were tense; there had been no break for lunch, proponents of defeated amendments were upset, while others were impatient with the delays caused by numerous amendments offered by the same people. At that moment, a man later identified as a leader of an extreme right wing Catholic group, came before the platform screaming “Dearden-Traitor! Dearden-Judas,” while others raised a sign calling on the delegates to take the “Red Cardinal” home with them. Officials peacefully led the man out, still screaming, away from the hall. As Dearden left to insure that the man was not mistreated, the entire assembly rose to cheer its leader. When he returned, they cheered again. The event brought the huge assembly together, and the remaining votes were speedily completed.
At 5:00 p.m. Cardinal Dearden formally closed the assembly. His short statement was a carefully worded affirmation of the “process” of “speaking and listening.” The delegates had tried to “engage in reflective deliberation on what has been said over the last two years.” Dearden noted that the agenda had been heavy, time limited and energy finite. “We have made some good decisions with which most of us will agree,” Dearden stated. “We have made others with which many will disagree.” But, he reminded his listeners, this was the first American Catholic attempt at a deliberative assembly and, in the past, Catholics had “not often listened well to one another.” Dearden promised to let the delegates know how the hierarchy responded to their recommendations and to the entire bicentennial program. The delegates, for their part, were to report back to those who had sent them. Dearden emphasized the point: “We will be anxious to learn how the bishops, priests and laity who sent you here respond to the results of the conference.” He concluded with a call to community in words which underscored how the focus of the program had shifted from mission to community, and suggested that the shift was, in fact, appropriate and desirable:
At the end, as at the start of these three days, all of us must remember our accountability to the hundreds of thousands of people who invested themselves in this program. They, and the unnamed people who stand behind them, are our people. In order to serve them better, and with them to serve all members of the human community, we have worked very hard during our hours together. . . . But we can all take heart, for we have tried as best we can to respond to the needs we have heard. In the days and months ahead, let each of us reflect on the experiences that so often separate us from one another and from our people. If we do that, we will find even better and more effective ways to speak, and to listen, to learn and grow, to deliberate and to act, to be, in St. Paul’s words, a people of one heard and one mind, united in loving service to God and His people.
