The Georgia Bulletin

Sun, Jul 20, 2008


What I Have Seen and Heard - Archbishop Gregory's Weekly Column

Print Issue: August 2, 1990

Bishop Lyke Gives His Farewell Homily In Cleveland

Bishop James P. Lyke, OFM, Ph.D., delivered his farewell homily to friends and family, fellow priests, and diocesan workers at a farewell Liturgy celebrated July 27 at 7 p.m. at the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in downtown Cleveland.

On Aug. 11, he will begin his duties as apostolic administrator of this archdiocese.

Bishop Anthony Pilla of Cleveland, at the close of the Liturgy, spoke warmly of the relationship the two shared in Cleveland since their ordination as bishops together 11 years ago.

The cathedral was filled with about 1,200 people for the Mass, according to Sister Maureen Haggarty, CSJ, editor of the Catholic Universe, the diocesan paper. A public reception followed in Cathedral Square.

Bishop Lyke was principal celebrant with the other three auxiliary bishops, two abbots and about 150 priests of the diocese as concelebrants. Approximately 40 deacons also took part.

At Bishop Lyke's request, the Liturgy was a multicultural celebration with representatives of the parishes in the Urban Region, which he served as vicar, taking part.

Bishop Lyke's farewell address follows:

Brothers and Sisters in Christ:

There is no gathering more enjoyable and delightful than a family reunion: stories are told, memories shared, events narrated, accomplishments proclaimed, thanksgiving offered, the deceased remembered, and the living celebrate all that is good and wonderful. Indeed, the family reunion incites new energy to face the future. When prayer and a sense-for-God permeates such a gathering, family roots and history take on a profound meaning.

In the Church, every Eucharist is like a family reunion. Tonight, the remembrance of my 11 years in the Diocese of Cleveland and my departure to the Archdiocese of Atlanta provide the occasion for our coming together, but, as always, the reason why we are here is to give thanks and praise to God.

I repeat, my departure is only the occasion. The reason for the Eucharistic gathering is always the same: that historic and perennial event of salvation history, that mystery in which we best lose ourselves in God's embrace, that holy food and drink which is the sign and cause of the unity of the people of God, that Sacrament of Christ through which we discover and renew our identity. Yes, that historic and perennial event of salvation history - Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again! This once-and-for-all cosmic phenomenon by which we cling to the Christ who framed eternity in an earthly sojourn - who was bound by time, limited by flesh, conditioned by body. All this descent from above to show that our assent from below - through the body, through the secular, through the mundane - is our way to the ever-evolving reconstruction of the social order and to eternal life with God. Oh, yes, "Rise up Jerusalem, your light has come!"

Friends, I have presided at so many family reunions in local parishes, at the Eucharist and in parish halls. There is no stomach in the diocese more international than mine, as I have tasted the historic cuisine of the more than 80 distinct ethnic communities (with periodic immersions into my own culture's soul food) and witnessed more than periodic expansions of my bodily frame.

Still, my mother didn't raise a fool! When I sat at your banquets, I tasted more than your luscious foods. I heard the stories of your people's struggles under oppression, war and famine. I felt your faith, grasped on to your hope, and wallowed in your love. I engaged your unconquering clinging to Jesus, and your incomparable care for the Church. When I came to Cleveland I was a universal man in ideals; I leave a universal man in fact. The riches of your heritage were emptied out before me, the wealth of your nations took hold of my heart. I learned anew the meaning of "Catholic" and discovered the one God in the mosaic of your many-splendored lives.

Sisters and brothers, over this past decade, we have recognized the time of darkness and thick clouds. We have watched hunger, loneliness, unemployment, violence, racial strife, and many other social obstructions. We have viewed the re-configuration of our church life the exodus of people, the decline of our religious, the graying of our clergy, and the anxiety of our people over the future of our churches and schools. Even more fundamentally, we have experienced a decline, perhaps in some instances, a collapse in common meaning: the almost universally accepted values which guided the moral judgements of our people in the past continue to be questioned and even contradicted. Surely, great challenges lie before us as again we are called together to listen to God's voice in the here and now of everyday life.

But, dear friends, while this summary description of "darkness and thick clouds" may be true, it is equally true that God has not been absent from our tension and our search. God has shown us a way out of no way. In this same period of ambiguity, conflict and questioning, God has brought us back and has led us to fresh, new and creative ways to be Church. While in the past, clergy and religious were principal actors in church life, now those in the church work force have increased more than a thousandfold, as we watch lay women and men perform successfully in pastoral ministry.

We are a changing Church, not a dying Church - just as Christ's life did not end with the crucifixion. We are a rising Church - like an exquisite wine that runs refreshingly and redemptively through the bloodstream of church life. We are a rising Church, even as Christ has risen gloriously and triumphantly. "Rise up in your splendor, Jerusalem. Your light has come."

In our Eucharistic gathering, Christ has something to say to us as a people - to this changing and rising Church - in the particular circumstances of this age and culture, something at once perennial and timely. What does Christ have to say to us tonight?

The principal message, so clearly exemplified in the life of Christ, is proclaimed in tonight's gospel text: "Go into the world and proclaim the good news to all creation." So, I beg you, let the sound of Jesus' name resound from your lips and resonate in your lives. Let all church activity have a direct and clear link with Jesus' mandate to preach the Gospel and permeate every culture.

Then, the Gospel tells us further: "Signs like these will accompany those who have professed their faith..."

Dear Friends, may these be your signs:

First, let your own experience of suffering, exclusion and domination teach you that no child of God should be absent at the table of freedom, whether in places of employment, or in neighborhoods or in schools, or in the Church just as there is plenty of good room in the Kingdom of God.

Secondly, let the word "choice" take on its original meaning, a choice for dignity, a choice for the good, the true and beautiful, a choice for life, a choice for the quality of life, a choice for the betterment of life. May Christ, who showed a preferential love for children, teach us to love the child from the first moments of conception and to embrace the parents as they experience the most miraculous event since the birth of Christ. Let our spirits be as drug-free as we wish our bodies to be.

Thirdly, let "petitions, prayers, intercessions and thanksgivings be offered for all women and men ... and those in authority." Friends, in this nation of free speech, it is commonplace to dissect the lives of politicians and other public officials as though they have no feelings, and no will for good, and even no dignity as persons. It is as though the few who are bad move us to castigate the many who struggle and desire to serve. I beg you, above all else heed the exhortation of Saint Paul to Saint Timothy: Pray for those in authority, that God may guide them unto all that is merciful and just.

Finally I beg your prayers for our bishop Anthony, to me a brother and friend, one with a love that knows no boundaries. Pray for my brother bishops and our diocesan staff, for the abbots, our pastors and clergy and all pastoral ministers and religious. How well they have heard Christ's words: "The one who aspires to greatness must serve the rest." For all those who exercise governance and ministry in the Church, let us pray that they have Christ-like hearts, lives afire with the Gospel, and hands and feet fixed to the plow. Pray for our ecumenical leaders. May our hearts join with theirs in work and hope for Christian unity. Pray for our Jewish leaders, with whom we have worked in so many common endeavors. Pray for leaders of other faiths, that God direct them in all their pursuits.

Having heard God's Word, we shall now remember the needs of the Church and the world, then to the Eucharistic Banquet, to a holy food and drink, divine nourishment for our journey and symbol of God's lavish love. May this Eucharist help us foster the reign of God, that kingdom about which the poet, Langston Hughes, so beautifully wrote:

I dream a world where man
No other will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn.
I dream a world where all
Will know sweet freedom's way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day,
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head,
And joy, like a pearl,
Attend the needs of all mankind,
Of such I dream -
Our world.

Let us be in silence to reflect on such a dream.