Books A remarkable bishop, a fateful resignation
RELUCTANT
DISSENTER By James Patrick Shannon Crossroad, 228 pages,
$19.95 |
By TERRY DOSH
Until a generation ago the writing of American
Catholic history regularly focused on the lives of bishops. The result was a
narrow, top-down perspective. Vatican II changed that focus. The scope is
broader now, and bishops occupy a diminished role in the process of weighing
the past.
So why this episcopal autobiography? How does it differ from the
lives of bishops past? This bishop did a rare deed. He resigned in midcareer on
a principle pivotal to the socio-cultural shift launched by Vatican II. Bishop
James Shannon resigned over birth control and the political maneuvers of the
hierarchy surrounding it.
Shannon decided he could not privately counsel parishioners to
follow their consciences and at the same time publicly teach the churchs
ban on contraception. The high drama of the birth control debate from 1962 to
1968 forced Shannon into the crucible between the conciliar call to freedom of
conscience and the Roman exercise of authority.
When the contradiction between the papal view of contraception and
his own episcopal office peaked, Shannon, a man of integrity, honor, deep faith
and loyalty to the Catholic church and the pope, decided he could no longer
function as a priest and bishop. His resignation linked him to 23,000 other
American priests who have made the exodus journey between 1966 and the present.
But his journey was unique because of who he was and the office he held.
Let me acknowledge here and now that I am a married priest and a
friend of Jim Shannon. My father was a trustee in the parish where Jim was
pastor and bishop. My priest-brother had Jim for a high school seminary English
teacher. I was one of the 91 priests in the Twin Cities who publicly dissented
on Humanae Vitae. The bonds are thick, and my admiration for the man
great.
In the beginning of this book, the author weaves a lucid and
engaging backdrop to his development. Jim Shannon was the youngest of six
children. His father was a cattle trader; and his mother, who as a young widow
and the mother of four had been an entrepreneur before her marriage to
Jims father, was a spirited, resourceful person. Shannon grew up in a
warm, loving household and was blessed with many opportunities.
Shannons several careers
Shannon had several careers: a high school English teacher, a
college history professor with a Yale PhD (one of only a handful of bishops to
earn such a bona fide degree), a college president, a columnist in the Catholic
and secular press for 35 years, a member and officer of several national
boards, a lawyer, a foundation executive, a pilot, a pastor and a bishop.
However, what really defined him was his formation as a priest and the
authority of service that enabled him to lead.
Shannons leadership qualities were evident from boyhood. At
35 he became president of the diocesan College of St. Thomas in St. Paul in
1955. There he discovered the larger world, and that world, in turn, discovered
him. Though a reluctant fundraiser, his warm, affective personality and his
ability to persuade put him in public demand. The college flourished, and his
star began to rise.
In 1965 his archbishop, Leo Binz, asked the Vatican to appoint
Shannon as his auxiliary. For the next four years, he, along with the rest of
Catholic America, experienced the upheavals of Vatican II, the civil rights
movement and the Vietnam War. His major attention was on the Vatican
Council.
Shannon twice notes that the three months in 1965 when he was a
junior bishop in Rome for the final session of Vatican II were the most
intense and inspiring educational experience of my life. Writing on this
session he focuses on the dramatic shift in the Catholic teaching on
marital morality. He spells out how an examination of the suggested
amendments (most of which were rejected) reveal that the true sense of the
overwhelming majority of the 1,700 bishops present was to modify the
churchs official teaching on contraception.
Armed with that understanding, he and most of his episcopal
colleagues thought that the papal commission on birth control, which was
meeting separately between 1964 and 1966, would follow the liberal trend
of the collegial consensus expressed by the council. The papal commission
did just that by a vote of 55-4. Pope Paul VI, however, did not follow that
line of thinking. In his encyclical Humanae Vitae of July 25, 1968, the
pope reiterated the traditional teaching against artificial contraception.
Shannon, who had been counseling people as if the teaching would
be changed, resigned.
But his story is more complicated than that. In his first year as
a bishop he was thrust upon a much larger stage when his colleagues asked him
to be their press spokesman at sessions of the newly organized National
Conference of Catholic Bishops. Unlike many bishops who were paranoid
about the press, Shannon developed a rapport with the media. He was a
skilled writer, a clear thinker, an accomplished speaker. He felt comfortable
with public discourse.
His new visibility created problems. On Easter Sunday 1967,
Shannon, who had previously supported the Vietnam war, now spoke out against
it. In his personal capacity he joined several prominent Catholics in signing
an open letter in eight diocesan newspapers asking all American Catholics
to review our countrys role in Vietnam. As he noted, The
silence of the American bishops on the war was deafening. The previous
year, in his famous U.N. speech, Pope Paul VI had condemned the war.
The most influential American Catholic leaders -- Cardinals
Francis Spellman of New York and James McIntyre of Los Angeles -- didnt
want public criticism of the war. McIntyre claimed that Shannon had embarrassed
the bishops conference and should be silenced. The apostolic delegate,
Archbishop Egidio Vagnozzi, warned Shannon that if he continued to make such
public statements, he would injure his career. The implicit norm was:
Cardinals, not auxiliary bishops, speak for U.S. Catholics.
In early 1968, NBC invited Shannon to moderate an hourlong
documentary exploring the likely impact of Vatican II on the Catholic church.
He first suggested that a more senior bishop be asked, but, with the support of
some bishops, he reluctantly said yes. After the program, several bishops
criticized Shannons role in it. McIntyre, then 82, called the show
erroneous, misleading and unauthorized.
The administrative board of the U.S. bishops conference
voted 13-7 to censure Shannon. His biggest blow came when both St. Paul
bishops, Archbishop Leo Binz and coadjutor Bishop Leo Byrne, absented
themselves from the meeting and did not support him as he expected. The
deliberate failure of his own bishops to stand by him shattered Shannon. Their
weakness strengthened [his] conviction that promotion or position in the
church, purchased at the price they were willing to pay, is
worthless.
Letter of resignation
Nine months later, in his June 25, 1969, letter to Binz resigning
as bishop, pastor and priest, he gave as reasons: I have repeatedly found
myself at odds with the timidity, secrecy, studied ambiguity, the curial style
and the heavy-handedness of many persons in authority in the church.
In a 1998 interview, Shannon said Catholic bishops are still
struggling to handle communication with the world. Theres a cult of
secrecy, he said. Maybe thats too strong. But they are still
struggling to understand collegiality and democracy. Theres still a
longing for a monarchy.
Shannon explains his resignation: It was a loss of faith in
the administrative process of the church and in my ability to deliver in the
future the kind of service, obedience and assent expected of me by my
superiors.
However, before he reached this conclusion in 1969, he lived
through an experience of tortured conscience surrounding the question of birth
control.
On Sept. 23, 1968, a week after his fellow bishops had censured
him and two months after Humanae Vitae, Shannon wrote to Pope Paul VI:
I cannot in conscience give internal assent, hence much less external
assent, to the papal teaching here in question.
By the time he received a reply from the pope in February 1969, he
had resigned as pastor, had taken a leave of absence, gone to New Mexico to
teach at a college and had pondered how he would spend the rest of his
life.
The apostolic delegate, reflecting his Roman superiors
concerns about bella figura (looking good), urged Shannon to
go for a year to Rome, Switzerland, Jerusalem or anywhere in South America --
with all expenses paid. Shannon saw through this curial facade, said so, and
resigned as a priest and a bishop. It was a brutal and lonely experience.
Shannon states unequivocally that it was his future wife, Ruth
Wilkinson, (they were married Aug. 2, 1969) who sustained him through the last
few months preceding his resignation and the subsequent public fallout. In the
rest of his story, Shannon describes his studies and practice of law in New
Mexico followed by his return to Minnesota, where he served as director of two
foundations.
In an epilogue, he reflects on the need for a collegial style of
authority in the church. He speaks with the authority of life experience and
service.
The books title encapsulates the person. A great respecter
of tradition, he nonetheless saw the necessity of changes. Shannon was not a
flaming liberal, a reformer; he was a centrist. Vatican II called us to change,
and Jim was a leader within the crowd.
He writes clear, expository prose. With an economy of expression,
he belabors nothing. He humbly writes of his accomplishments -- some huge -- in
a phrase or a sentence. His brief reflections on the liberal arts, the
discipline of writing, the essence of management through a collegial process,
on being a college professor, death and other topics fit seamlessly into the
cloth hes weaving. They have a purpose; they define Jim Shannon.
Someone else needs to write more of Shannons brief but
significant tenure as a bishop. Half of this book covers his episcopal years.
The time (1965-69) of his episcopacy is so central to the seismic shift
occurring in American Catholic society, and he played such a key symbolic and
personal role, that further exploration of his years as a bishop is urgently
needed. This wonderful book needs to be analyzed and evaluated, and his papers
and oral history need to be published before he, now 77, passes from us.
Terry Dosh writes from St. Paul, Minn.
National Catholic Reporter, October 30,
1998
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