Through an emerald lens

Father William Flanagan is one of our retired priests currently residing at St. Stephen Church in Indian Creek. Recently, Fr. Flanagan’s nephew wrote an article for his local church magazine in Ireland. It was occasioned by the trip some of his family made last summer for St. Stephen parish’s 175th-anniversary celebration. Father Don Antweiler, pastor of the Monroe City and Indian Creek parishes, brought the article to my attention. It is a rare opportunity that we have to discover the impression we make on others. I thank Fr. Flanagan for allowing me to share this article with you. I hope you enjoy it.

America seems to have generated more than its fair share of media attention in 2008. Military action in Afghanistan and Iraq, the troubles of the sub-prime mortgage market and of course the fact that it is election year seems to have heightened our interest even further. We have seen U.S.-themed documentaries from Stephen Fry and in a more serious vein from Peter Snow and even Alistair Cooke repeats (which I for one enjoyed).

For America, this does seem to be a pivotal moment. But even with the economy in recession and America’s reputation in the world at a pretty low ebb, there does seem to be genuine hope of a change in direction.

Recently, I’ve found myself asking, “Who are these Americans?” We have all seen the stereotypes. The sharp New York businessman, the Chicago gangster, the cowboy — but which one is the real American? In some sense they all are, and moreover, many of them are our relatives. I’d like to introduce you to a few of them. The story starts in 1964 with my Uncle Bill. That was the year he was ordained, and like many of the Class of ’64, he went out to the Diocese of Jefferson City, Mo., in the U.S. Midwest, as a priest in a small (in number, but not in size) rural parish, and for the past 44 years that is where he has ministered. As a small boy at the time, I was saddened as this was a favourite uncle I would hardly see.

As the years went by, Uncle Bill moved around from parish to parish, serving different communities in the state of Missouri. He came home most years on holiday and told us tales of his new life. This was farming country, (but not as we know it, Jim). One area specialised in cattle, another in “hogs,” or pigs as we call them. But these were farms with thousands and thousands of hogs, with “processing” on an industrial scale.

What he described was a big land of small communities. As well as the Catholics, there were the Baptists, Lutherans, Episcopalians … living in communities founded by their forebears — Irish, Poles, Germans. These were the pioneers, tough independent people who had braved the hazards of the New World a hundred years before. But some things seemed the same, wherever he went. Life in these communities centred around the Church, the schools and family life and values. You could almost imagine James Stewart or Henry Fonda sitting on his front porch.

But time moves on, and 40-something years have gone by in the blink of an eye. Uncle Bill is now a retired priest in his mid-70s with a medical rap sheet as long as your arm. But let me come to my point. My mother and her brother (my uncle John, another favourite uncle) and sister-in-law Pat have gone out to visit Uncle Bill from time to time over the years, most recently last year. When they came back, I asked my mum (aged 80) how they got on.

“Well. We’re exhausted,” she said. “Hardly surprising,” I said, “after a transatlantic flight, a four-hour stopover, an internal flight and another four hours in the car, jetlag — and you’re not getting any younger.” “No, it was the welcome.” “Well I’m sure Uncle Bill was delighted to see you.” “No, from the whole parish! We haven’t stopped.”

From the moment they arrived to the moment they left, they had been treated like visiting royalty. Parishioners, some of whom they had met before and some they didn’t know, turned out to welcome them. An outpouring of generosity that was wonderful to behold. There were invitations to dinner in a different house every night, home-cooked dinners and magnificent apple and blueberry pies delivered to the door.

Being practical people, they had simply put a note in the newsletter that Fr. Bill’s brother and sister were coming to visit…. and the rest was left to the generosity of the parish. But in a sense, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Uncle Bill receives excellent medical attention for all his various maladies, and has the love and care of the parish to sustain him on a day-to-day basis. He lives next to the church, in the heart of the parish, and gets massive help and support from his neighbours.