September 5, 2010
THE UNFINISHED IMAGE
My first priestly assignment was at a wonderful parish in Eau Claire. There I served as an associate pastor under Monsignor J. Francis Brady. Many in this area knew him as a former pastor of Saint Charles Parish in Genoa; the last pastoral assignment he held was at Saint John’s Parish in Prairie du Chien. He was the most eloquent preacher I’ve ever known and the best story teller as well. Bishop Treacy always called upon him to do his emcee work for him at diocesan events.
Then, after five years I was transferred to teach at McDonnell High School in Chippewa Falls. Now comes the purpose of this column. While at McDonnell I also served as pastor of my first parish. Saint Anthony Parish, 15 miles from Chippewa, had 68 families in those days; not large in any manner of counting. Saint Anthony was a white frame church in the township of Drywood. Priest friends teased me, “If this should happen in the Greenwood what would happen in the Dry?” (There’s a Greenwood in the Diocese too!). We know Saint Anthony as the patron of lost things. Well, I think they named the parish after him because you could get lost looking for it. In fact, one year Bishop Freking was making his way to the parish and he did get lost! He had been confirming at the parish in New Auburn and was traveling across country to Drywood. Father Heindl was his driver at the time.
When they realized they were lost on a county road Bishop Freking motioned to Father Heindl to pull over in order to ask directions from a farmer on his tractor. When I learned about it later on I was amused, picturing for myself the image of Bishop Freking stepping out of his long black Buick wearing his red cassock, motioning to the farmer on the tractor. Could the farmer believe his eyes? I think he pulled his cap down and kept on plowing. Nevertheless, Bishop Freking’s car pulled into the parking lot of the church two minutes before Confirmation was to begin.
The faithful of Saint Anthony’s were wonderful people. One member, knowing that farming was foreign to me, propped me up on his corn picker one September. With the farmer watching over my shoulder, I drove the tractor through the rows without losing (I’m sure) a single ear! (Saint Anthony at work again!) We enjoyed parish picnics, our weekly religious education program, fall dinners and more. A 9:00 a.m. Mass on Sunday was the only Mass of the week. The people were folks of the land. Like people everywhere, they knew laughter, loss, grieving and joy, illness, family life and hard work. And, perhaps because they belonged to the parish whose patron looked after lost things, I don’t think any of them were ever lost!