One lively commentator on the daily scene is an Atlanta newspaperman who once was a graduate student with me at Western Reserve University. He writes me letters of seven or eight pages, full of prose and verse. The former sparkles, and the latter actually shines.

Of bearded revolutionaries, he warns: “The complete radical can’t have too many loose ends.”

While driving to Asheville and Hatteras, he sang an old German drinking song to avenge the monotony of the smooth but dull expressways:

Es ist nicht ein Red Clay Bank?

Ja, das ist ein Red Clay Bank.

Es ist nicht ein Big Green Sign?

Ja, das ist ein Big Green Sign.

Big green sign

Far-off pine

Cloverleaf

Certain grief.

Vernacular Worries

My letter-writer is very sympathetic about our struggle to get a good English liturgy. He puts it very precisely in prose -- “You need words from ordinary conversation, plus a certain amount of dignity and stateliness since you’re addressing God.” But verse is like a martini to my friend, and he is soon battling both Latin and vernacularists. Is Latin dying?

Wrap some lilies, Mr. Florist,

Put this on the card, “O Mores!”

Vale, Latin, cruel is fate,

Still a rite by rote don’t rate!

But what would we do without Latin?

Latin banned? I’m in a box: What’s the word for equinox

To avoid a train of woe

Better keep the status quo!

I wish he could attend our international meetings for a common English text!

Freedom In The Church

This is the central point, he says. He fears there will be a clampdown: There seems to be a trend, no doubt,

To play it safe in Rome;

With one on third, and no one out

Why think of stealing home?

That’s the “conservative liberals.” The “liberal liberals” complain: “Romanita updated brings

A shiny Model T with wings;

The thing ain’t flyable.

Or, in our way of saying things;

Viable.

My friend’s eye is sharp. But I think his mind is sharper: “A measure of optimism is best. After all, the preconciliar Church wasn’t all bad. It’s sobering to read Pope John’s diary, and try and figure out how this man was put together. A lot of “out-dated” things must have influenced him: the old style Mass, the Rosary and charity and good will toward everyone.” He raises two hymns of praise to the great pope:

They said Pope John was too far out,

But still he kept himself in check --

He opened windows wide, no doubt,

But didn’t fall and break his neck.

He gave us a chance, according to my correspondent, to loosen up, to try and make the Church better: One thing about those papal windows

We might think about,

Pope John took care to open them

He didn’t shoot them out!

The People Of God Write Letters

I received many letters from the people of our archdiocese. As you know, I like to share some of them with you. A conciliar contribution has one style and pace. A letter full of verse, puns and bright observations (“The Gideon Bible in my motel is a jazzy gray that goes well with ashtrays”) calls for a different treatment. A note from a child usually is uniquely personal.

We need them all. The articulate Catholic now is as necessary as the man who quietly holds the line. It is a wonderful sign of our times that the laity writes to a bishop honestly and with impact. The Church can survive criticism, but it is doubtful whether the bishop can survive silence.

“Cleverness is fun,” writes my friend, “but it’s really bluff, too. I’ve found that simple words last longer than bright ones; kind words are always better than sharp ones. When it comes to the long pull and tears and sweat and agony, the plain words John loved so much seem to ride best of all: “The will of God is my peace.”

Even if his letter had been dull and prosaic, that paragraph would have saved it.

Paul J. Hallinan

Archbishop of Atlanta