Interview with Cardinal Daniel DiNardo
Oct 13, 2008
Cardinal Daniel DiNardo of Galveston-Houston, Texas, is the only Catholic cardinal in America’s Bible Belt, which gives him a unique perspective during this Synod of Bishops on the “The Word of God in the Life and Mission of the Church.” On Sunday, DiNardo celebrated Mass at his titular church, St. Eusebius, and later in the afternoon he sat down for an interview at the North American College.
(National Catholic Reporter, October 12, 2008) The conversation covered a lot of ground, including charismatic preachers such as Joel Osteen, the death penalty, and immigration, as well as a subject that’s been conspicuous by its absence in the synod, even though it’s a source of much heartburn in the wider world when talk turns to the Bible – creationism. DiNardo also commented on the aftermath of the recent floods that struck the Galveston-Houston area.
The following is a complete transcript of the interview.
By this stage in the synod, you’ve sat through 234 speeches – 149 formal interventions, and 85 comments during the free time. That’s a sort of tsunami of verbiage. Sorting through it all, what has struck you?
Initially what’s struck me is that much of the content of the speeches is the same, but what’s different is the angle of vision because of where people come from. You pick that up right away. When you hear the bishops from South America talk, there’s always a certain focus on the poor, the difficulties of people just trying to live, so the Word of God becomes a basis for small group communities. They talk about the formation that’s necessary to do that well. If you hear a bishop talking to you from Oceania, any of those islands, you get another distinctive sense of the Word of God. Their people are either reading the Word of God or not, but they have another perspective. Poverty affects them too, but it’s a different kind of poverty. They live in a context with a lot of non-Christians, as you can imagine. Therefore, they’re very interested in inculturation … that seems to be the big word that they use a great deal. When the bishops of Europe get up, they’re obviously concerned about secularism, and the reduced saturation of the Word of God in the culture.
In terms of content, what I hear most of the bishops saying is this: the Word of God is extremely important for people, there is thirst for the Word of God, but there isn’t always a clear understanding of the relationship between scripture and daily life. The biggest thing that has come out is that we all have to do more about preaching. Also, there’s a concern for translations of the Bible … if I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times, especially from countries where there are multiple languages.
Papua New Guinea, as we heard, has 837 languages.
They just keep saying, ‘We need Biblical translations.’ At one level, the Protestant churches are a little ahead of us here. They’re very, very good at getting translations of the Bible out, and the bishops are saying that we need to be more a part of that. Of course, then some of the African bishops say, ‘A lot of our people are illiterate.’ So, in a lot of ways, accessibility of the Word is an issue.
I’m surprised at how much attention lectio divina is getting. That’s considered to be an extremely important form of Biblical thinking, getting people to appreciate the scriptures. Also, in South America and Africa, the challenge of cults is obviously important. It’s pretty common to hear about that.
Is there anything you’ve heard that you think you’ll take back and that will make a concrete difference in the life of your archdiocese?
One of the things I notice in developing countries is that there is a great hunger for the Word of God, which often takes the form of people meeting in small groups. They want to hear the Word of God. We have to do this in a way that’s a little more ecclesial, but also in a way that’s vivid in people’s lives. Where this happens [Bible reading in small groups], it’s a great help for the church.
I live in the Bible Belt, which is what I talked about in my intervention. Catholics are used to hearing people quote scripture in the Bible Belt. In fact, it has an effect on them. What I’d like to see are some practical things to help Catholics deal with this situation. A number of our Catholics are involved in Protestant Bible studies, there’s no question about that. I mentioned something about a kind of Compendium, that would be addressed not to clergy but to ordinary people … simple, straightforward, our classic ways of reading the scriptures, why we read them the way we do, in order to give people what St. Luke calls that “assurance” when they’re meeting with others, so that we can bring our point of view to them.
What I’m thinking about is giving our people a little greater sensus ecclesiae, the “sense of the church.” It isn’t that some of them don’t want to do that, but the particular way that many Baptists – and, of course, it’s more than Baptists – read the Bible is as a personal inspiration, and of course there’s no problem with that. But then they begin interpreting texts as if this is the meaning, and we have to show them that there’s context, that there’s the greater context of the whole book, and that there’s a living tradition of faith that’s interpreted it. That’s what I think would be very helpful.
One of the things I notice among the synod fathers is that they want their people to read the scriptures. They think it’s a great idea.
No one seems to be debating that.
There’s no one that’s opposed. If there are any concerns, it’s about reading the Bible within the bigger context of the church.
As you mentioned, you’re the Cardinal of the Bible Belt. In some ways, you’re therefore a point person for relations with Evangelicals and Pentecostals. There’s been a lot of talk at the synod on that subject, not all of it positive. What can you tell me about the relationship in Texas?
Some of the people in the synod have been quite critical of them in certain parts of the world. I guess I’m less critical. I suppose if I have any criticism it’s that some of the Evangelicals, out of their concern for knowing Jesus Christ, will take advantage of people coming from, let’s say, Mexico or South America. These people come into a place like Houston … you’re new, you’re frequently illegal. [Evangelicals] are going to offer you some help, some assistance, and of course I have no objection to that. Then they read the Bible, and they tell you that this is the only way to know Jesus Christ. May I also add, John, that they’re not totally without some sense of the background. We have churches in Houston that are Protestant Evangelical, and they have pictures of Our Lady of Guadalupe. A lot of people are attracted to them, and maybe part of that is our fault. Our formation in the faith, particularly, perhaps, in Central and South America, is not as well developed as theirs. So, they get ‘em.
Cardinal Pengo from Tanzania talked about an ‘exodus’ of Catholics across Africa moving into Pentecostal groups. Do you lose a lot of people in Houston to the Pentecostals and the Evangelicals?
We have some. I talk to some of our priests, and they say, ‘Yes, we’re losing some.’ I can’t say we’re losing a huge amount right now.
Would you use the word ‘exodus’?
I wouldn’t use the word ‘exodus’ in Texas. I might use the word ‘trickle.’ Maybe even a big trickle in some areas. If they come to Houston in certain areas, the parishes are very good, and they’re a force of stability for a lot of people. We have a parish south of the stadium in downtown Houston that lists on its books 2,200 families, but it had a thousand baptisms the year before last. They’ve obviously got more than 2,200 families. They’re not going to register because people are too afraid. So, we do have some exits, there’s no question, but …
But you also have an enormous number of people coming in, most of them immigrants.
It’s huge, and you know it’s not just the Hispanics, though they would be the largest single group. We also have to be concerned about the Filipinos, for example.
You’ve talked about the ‘happy chaos’ in Houston.
That’s what it is. There are so many different kinds of people in the archdiocese of Galveston-Houston right now … I always say that if I’m not aware of a particular group, it’s only because I haven’t yet heard about them. They’re either coming or they’re already here.
In your part of the world, creationism is a fairly powerful cultural, even political, force. Are you surprised there really hasn’t been any discussion in the synod on creationism?
I think it’s been mentioned maybe once, in a minor point by one of the bishops, but basically you’re right, it hasn’t come up at all. Partly, this may be because it’s a local issue in the United States, in parts of the country, but it's not a big concern in much of the rest of the world. It’s an issue in Texas at times, though you should know about Texas, as someone once said to me with a straight face: ‘You know, we’re our own separate nation.’ Texas is somewhat unique. I see this issue more in West Texas and other parts of the state, but it doesn’t come up as much in Houston. You have to remember that the role of the Baptists in Houston in this regard has been significant. It’s kept the issue from becoming too intense, because they don’t let it get out of hand.
When someone in the Bible Belt asks you what the Catholic church thinks about creationism, what do you say?
I actually don’t know that anyone’s ever asked me, but if someone did, what I would say is that the Bible tells us the ‘why’ of things. The importance of the Book of Genesis is on the ordered character of God’s creation. For the rest, the Catholic church is receptive to the role of reason, and reason tells us ‘how’ things go. To us, the ‘why’ is more important, and that’s what religion answers. Of course, there are some people, whether in the state of Texas or outside, who want to use the creationism question to attack the notion that God has any role or any agency in the world at all. That’s not true with all people who argue for evolution, but it’s true of some of them. You have to realize that in Texas, those would be fighting words among the politicians.
There are some Catholics in the United States who are very attracted to the idea of ‘intelligent design.’ What do you make of that?
If ‘intelligent design’ is used as a philosophical argument to talk about the foundations of how we understand science, I have no problem with it. Some people are using it as a scientific explanation per se, but it’s really not. It’s a philosophical explanation trying to show the presuppositions by which we can talk about divine purpose or providence in the world. I think that’s great, that’s very important.
The problem I see on both sides –both with some of those who are pushing the evolution agenda and with intelligent design – is that they’re really arguing philosophy, they’re not arguing science.
Of course, the intelligent design people understand themselves to be making a scientific argument. They contend that you can’t explain the transition from simple to complex species in terms of a linear progression driven by random mutation and natural selection, that there’s an ‘irreducible complexity’ to life that requires the hypothesis of a designer.
Some of that is probably true, though I don’t know that it necessarily leads to intelligent design. Of course, you can take an alternative explanation [to evolution]. You could use Aristotle’s notion of substantial forms that are just always around, for example, and explain the results that way, which wouldn’t necessarily give you a theory of design.
I think we have to be careful in our public schools that when people are teaching evolution, they’re not teaching metaphysical evolution, but rather methodological evolution, which is okay.
Is the bottom line that when we teach Genesis we should focus on the theological content, and leave the mechanics of the science alone?
As I recall when I took my exam here on the Pentateuch, a professor asked me if I’d ever read Bertolt Brecht’s play ‘Galileo.’ I had read it in high school. In the Book of Genesis, at its time, what would be known as any kind of cosmology and science is at home in theology. That is to say, the Book of Genesis is trying to indicate to us that there is order in creation. Science obviously becomes more sophisticated about the manner of the order of creation, and how we would discover it. The notion of order is an important issue, which to my mind isn’t purely theological.
So you would say there’s a kind of natural theology implicit in Genesis?
There is, but today we’re fighting certain aspects of science we really shouldn’t be fighting. Let the scientists fight out some of the methodological battles they have over some of these things. In the state of Texas, this whole thing is also played out on the political level.
The broader issue the debate over creationism raises is what it means to call scripture ‘inerrant.’ Cardinal George has suggested that perhaps the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith might want to put out some kind of document on inerrancy. What do you think of that?
The way [inerrancy] is phrased in the English translation of our Instrumentum Laboris makes the issue, to my mind, a little more clear-cut than it is. Inerrancy affects every word of scripture. We have to ask, what’s the inerrancy for? Of course, it’s for our salvation. But that itself is a bigger issue than purely conceptual terms about how we are saved.
The Second Vatican Council phrased Dei Verbum carefully, and left the question partially difficult. Should the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith issue something? It could be helpful. Do we need further theological analysis before they even speak on it? Maybe. I’d be one willing to wait, though there are people who think we should make something much clearer right now. I remember before coming to the synod I got a lot of letters, and many of them dealt with this point. It has not emerged in the synod, however, as a major issue.
You live in a part of the world where the issue of scripture’s inerrancy is quite topical.
Yes, and it’s very straight-forward the way most people who use the term ‘inerrancy’ would mean it. The way we use it, and the way an Evangelical would use it, is obviously a little different. They won’t give, for example, on the seven days of creation.
To take a step back, in the United States today there are two poles in any cultural debate that involves the Bible: secular skepticism, according to which the Bible is an interesting piece of ancient literature but no more than that, and Biblical fundamentalism, which reads the Bible as the literal, face-value word of God. The Catholic church occupies a middle position between these two extremes. Could a document on inerrancy help lift up this ‘third way’ of reading the Bible in cultural debate?
If we end up doing some kind of document that’s a compendium on how we read scripture, and I don’t know that we will, this issue is going to have to arise. They would have to say something about it. I think the Catholic church’s position is nuanced, it’s faith and reason working together. Maybe it’s because of the way Catholics came onto the fields of form-criticism and literary criticism under Pius XII, but when the question comes up of whether something is literally, factually, true, we ask, ‘What’s the literary form of the document? What is the sacred author trying to get at?’ That’s the truth it’s trying to express. That may involve more than, ‘God saves.’ That may involve, as you said earlier, some natural truths that natural theology can bring out.
Of course, members of our church run the gamut on these questions …
Do you think a document on inerrancy is coming?
I don’t know. It’s possible that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith may decide that now is not the time to do it. I have some indications of that, that there will be more reflection… they’re not going to rush into it.
You know, I find that with most people, if there’s ever a battle, these days it’s not over religion and science so much as religion and history. It’s the problem of historical consciousness. What brings it to light are some of the points of the gospels where there are tensions, seemingly, in the narrative, or varying portrayals of what Christ said or did. These are good questions. I think if they’re read in light of lectio divina and the bigger spiritual tradition of the church, they’re less intensely problematic, but I don’t know that they’re questions which will go away.
Walter Kasper wrote years ago that the problems in relationship among theology, religion and science will be considered more minor in the future, in comparison to the problems in the relationship between religion and history. That issue is still a vexing one, still a tough one.
Let me ask you about whether there are ways the Bible can be brought to bear on a couple of social issues that are important in Texas. What about the death penalty?
The Catholic bishops in Texas have been opposed to the death penalty for 30. The polls have moved from about 90 percent approval to around 85-82 percent approval, which means that there’s the beginning of some people starting to question the death penalty. You have to keep in mind the people who have lost their loved ones. For a lot of people, it’s that emotional issue that gets to them. The second issue after that is that they took someone’s life, so they give theirs in return. That’s a kind of justice, of redress.
It’s often informed by a kind of Biblical morality, isn’t it?
I guess some do, though what I’ve heard on the TV a lot, and one hates to say it, is – along with the reaction to the loss of a loved one – just simple vengeance.
Have you had much luck using scripture to make the case against the death penalty?
We’ve tried to do it in terms of the forgiveness of enemies, and love one another. Among the Catholics in Texas that I’ve met, I’ve found that most of them are favorable to the death penalty, but they’re not absolutely attached to it. They can be worked on, but it’s going to be a long time.
Does reading and praying with scripture have any effect at all on their attitude toward the death penalty?
I can’t say that I can answer that, to be honest with you. We have some very intense small groups of people, like Pax Christi and others. The effect of some of the anti-death penalty thinking has been good in some of our schools. In looking to the future, I’ve been talking to someone who’s been at it for years, Archbishop [Joseph] Fiorenza. He told me that this is going to take a long time to reach Texas. People there are very traditional and just say, ‘If you do this, you’ve got to pay for it.’ It’s almost primitive at times, but we’re making a dent. The fact that support has gone down is indicative. Part of it is the scientific stuff, where people found out that the DNA didn’t match, things like that. Part of it, too, is the kind of people who are on death row in Texas. Let’s face it, they’re the poor. Some of them may have had bad representation.
One man was recently given a reprieve, a sad case. He drove the car, and in Texas we have that law where if you’re in the car when somebody commits a crime, you’re part of it. He has a mental capacity that’s not so strong, and he was given a reprieve to life in prison. That’s unusual for this governor, who’s pretty tough.
Can scripture help you with the question of immigration?
My hope would be yes, insofar as people read both the Old Testament and the New Testament … whether it’s the great Pentateuchal/Deuteronomic language on the widow, the stranger, and the orphan, or whether it’s the prophetic cry against the exploitation of those who are strangers in our midst. Not least of all is the powerful parable, which I think is indicative of a whole frame of mind, of the Good Samaritan. The more we would read the scriptures, the more we are involved in them, we could make a very, very good case, and I think we’ve tried, for immigration.
Is it bearing fruit?
Just look in Texas. I’ve had people come to see me from the building trades, from the Chamber of Commerce … there are lots of people getting on board and saying, ‘We can’t continue to live with what’s going on in Texas and elsewhere.’ But it has to be handled at the federal level. You know, I’ve talked to senators who are very sympathetic when you approach them one-on-one, but the pressure’s on them in Washington, D.C. Some people are saying that once the election is over, there may be some window of opportunity to do something with the lame-duck congress, in late November or December. I’m skeptical about it, having dealt with it the last couple of years, but we’ll see. In any event, it certainly has to be on the agenda of the next congress. We can’t continue to live this way in Texas and California. It’s crazy.
For instance, I’ve talked to people who are in the building trades, in construction, and they tell me that they go to all the job fairs. People say [about immigrants] that they’re taking away jobs from Anglos, but these guys tell me that no Anglos show up. One guy told me that some of the people who work for him have been working for him for twenty years, and they’re master craftsmen and builders. He said, ‘I don’t know how many of them are illegal. I thought they were all legal, but I’m finding out that some of the papers they hold and give to me are false.’ But, he said, that doesn’t take away from the good work they do. They’re productive citizens. We should get their situation regularized.
Another theme that has emerged in the synod is the persecution of Christians in various parts of the world, in India, in the Middle East, and so on. For American Catholics, that can seem fairly remote. Concretely, what can Americans do?
First of all, we should make sure that word gets out. In Houston, that’s less difficult. I have a large number of Indian Catholics in Houston, and they make what’s going on known to others. We also have to make ourselves heard. Sometimes you have to say something, about India, about the terrible situation in Darfur, and so on.
We also have heard a great deal about the terrible loss of Christians in the Middle East, which I’m aware of since I’ve been dealing with the Knights of the Holy Sepulcher. That’s the Holy Land, Jerusalem, and of course Iraq. We have a growing Iraqi, and also Maronite, community in Houston because they’re leaving.
We can let our representatives in government know about this. The government has some influence, for example, with what we can do for the Christians in Iraq. It’s been a sadness … as you know, that constitution was supposed to protect minorities, but it has not de facto worked out in practice. The Christian community there is very productive, which is not unusual. It’s like the Copts in Egypt. I also feel bad for the Maronites in Lebanon, because that was always a 50/50 arrangement, but they’re suffering.
I suspect a lot of Catholics feel sympathy, but don’t know what to do with that sympathy.
What some of the bishops have asked me to do is to make their plight known, beginning with my own Christian community, when I write pastoral letters or when I talk.
One concrete suggestion that has come up with regard to the Holy Land is the importance of pilgrimage.
Keep going over, keep sending people over. That’s probably the most important thing we can do right now. Houston is very good about that, lots of people go to the Holy Land. By the way, a lot of Evangelicals go to the Holy Land. This is one concrete thing someone can do, if they have the means … just go.
How did you react to Bishop Kicanas’ proposal to make 2009 a ‘Year of Preaching’?
It’s probably a good suggestion. As a bishop in the United States, if you get letters that complain about priests – and you always get them – one of the complaints you’ll get is about preaching. A priest’s ability to connect with the people in terms of the word of the day, the scriptures that are being read, is something our people want. Of course, there are also people who will excuse bad preaching by a priest if they love him otherwise.
There’s been a fair bit of complaining in the synod about the quality of preaching. Is it really all that bad?
It’s uneven. We have priests in Houston, for example, that people go to because they consider them such fine preachers. We have other people that go to the parish because, they say, I’ve just always gone to this parish, and they roll their eyes about the preaching. Plus, we have so many languages. There are some Spanish-language preachers who are very good. In other cases, the priest isn’t such a good preacher, but the people are from the same country and so they just tolerate it, they don’t ask for much.
Is there a danger of making the homily carry more weight than it was meant to bear?
Could be. We always say that we’re fed by two tables, and the first table is to get you hungry for the second one. We’ve always gone to the Eucharist. I have to say that we’ve got some Catholics in Houston who have told me themselves that they go to Mass on Sunday at 8:00 am, and then they go to another church at 11:00 am so they can be “uplifted.”
Probably a number go to Joel Osteen?
Sure. Now, I would not put forth Joel Osteen as a way to be lifted up, because it’s just self-help. All it is, is self-help. That’s not good. The point is, however, that while they know that the Eucharist is something pretty important, they feel there’s something missing in the preaching. This intrigues me to no end.
In Houston, we’ve already done things on preaching. We’ve had days at our convocation dedicated to it. We have regular workshops on scripture. In fact, they’re doing a state-level; event next year in Houston. It’s not that we don’t provide opportunities. Of course, what strikes one person as a good homily will cause somebody else to say, ‘Oh, this guy is just foaming at the mouth.’ Yes, we have to always improve the quality of preaching, but they do so much preaching practicum at St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston already.
Is there some practical step you haven’t taken?
There are some priests who subscribe to homily services, or who read a bit of exegesis, and get up there and sort of bumble through, just making a series of statements. What’s probably necessary is a better defined rhetoric, bringing out the spiritual dimension in a way that isn’t moralizing. That would be wonderful … mystagogy is the way the liturgical people describe it, the idea that the text is being realized right now as you’ve heard it proclaimed, and as I try to unpack it. Though the text will say something to you about your moral life, it isn’t moralizing and wagging your finger. It has something to do with what you meet in your life. It’s like today, the reading about the marriage banquet … Jesus is telling a parable about salvation history. Jesus went to so many dinners in the synoptic that you almost want to ask, ‘Why is he always going to supper?’ It’s because it’s a sign of the kingdom, that there’s a joy in meeting Jesus Christ. That’s the kind of stuff we should put out there.
I recently spoke at a conference on Catholic preaching, and there was a lot of conversation there about preaching by the non-ordained, especially women. Obviously the liturgical rules forbid this in the Eucharist, but do you think it would be desirable to promote preaching by lay people in non-Eucharistic settings?
In non-Eucharistic contexts I think it’s a great idea, because some of them are very talented. Although people don’t look at it as preaching, I often say that some of the finest preachers we have are some of our volunteer catechists in some of our religious education programs. They keep those kids coming and buoy them up. I have the greatest regard for them, and I think what they’re doing is a kind of preaching. In that sense, lay preaching has always been around in the church. Some of the people in charge of our RCIA are very good. What some people are asking is to do it in the liturgy, but the Roman liturgy is pretty intense on this, that the person who presides is the one who preaches…. Outside the liturgy, I’d be favorable to looking for creative ways [to encourage lay preaching], with laity who are trained and formed and who can speak well. Some of the laity on Spanish-language radio are very good.
I might add that we also have over 250 permanent deacons in Houston, and some of them are good preachers. I hate to say it, but some are better than the priests, in part because they spend more time preparing the text. Some of our priests just don’t prepare as well as they should. Is that sometimes their fault? Yes. But if you have 5,000 families in your parish, it may well be that you were so overwhelmed with everything else you were doing that …
That it’s a miracle you showed up on Sunday at all?
Right. Also, we have to remember that God’s Word proclaimed is pretty good. As long as the lector is good, God’s Word sounds pretty good even if the preaching is terrible!
In your experience, what are the big differences in approaches to the Bible between Hispanics and Anglos?
Hispanics tend to read the Bible and see themselves in it immediately. It’s amazing. They’re an oral people, and the stories and the oral narratives speak to them. I don’t find that Hispanics have any trouble recognizing themselves in scripture passages. I find that the Anglos are a little bit more reserved. That’s not to say they don’t find meaning in the text, but …
Let me put it to you this way. I do so many confirmations every year it isn’t funny. I did 60 last year. When I with the Hispanic kids, at first they’re very reserved, because the cardinal is there. Once they get used to it, however, if you ask them to say something about the scripture text, they’ll do it, and I always have good exchanges with them. When I go to the Anglos, it concerns me. It’s not true across the board, but it’s true often enough … they don’t know the Bible at all. I ask them, ‘Tell me your favorite Bible passage,’ and nothing comes to mind. With the Hispanics, maybe it’s the way they do their songs, maybe it’s the way they train them at Sunday Mass or the way the priest preaches, but once they get over their initial shyness and respect for authority, I find those kids love to talk from their heart about Jesus did this or that for them. At times, they can almost sound like fundamentalists.
That probably helps explain some of the appeal of the Evangelical and Pentecostal churches to the Hispanics.
Yes, exactly. The trick is to draw them more into the sense of the church. When it comes to the Anglos, the ones who will say something to you about the Word of God are some of the Life Teen crowd. Of course, they also have a pretty Evangelical mind, except for the Eucharist. The one difference is that their piety is Evangelical-Eucharistic. Of course, it’s not that the Hispanics aren’t Eucharistic, but they have a feel for the text because it’s a narrative.
It’s not just that it’s narrative. The thought-world of the Bible tends to reflect the view of the poor, people who are close to the earth, who don’t take a skeptical stance towards the supernatural, and often that’s a better fit for Hispanics, isn’t it?
They’ve never asked about inerrancy, that’s for sure! No one even bothers about it. For them, miracles happen all the time.
At the end of my intervention in the synod, which was on the Bible Belt, I told a story about Galveston-Houston and the floods. Three weeks ago, after the floods, I got permission from FEMA and I went into Galveston. I had to have the police with me, and so on. I went into the cathedral in Galveston, where there was eight feet of water … it was just horrific. There was a woman there, a Catholic woman, whose house was gone. She came up to me and said, ‘You see, cardinal, Mary the Star of the Sea is on top of the cathedral. Blessed is she among women … we’ll be okay.’ She quoted the Bible, in a very distinctive Catholic form. Then I went into another church four blocks away, flooded with three feet of water. A woman came from across the street, obviously a non-Catholic, whose house had flooded up to the second floor. She said to me, ‘The Lord done saved me from the miry clay and the dark pit, bless you Jesus!’ Those two responses were equally beautiful, equally Biblical, one Catholic and the other more Evangelical. Both were the little ones, the ones to whom Jesus says in Matthew 11, ‘Come to me you who labor and have a heavy burden.’ Both had confidence in God’s Word. It’s amazing. Some people would simply laugh at those two responses to the floods, some Catholics even, but I saw in them a deep respect for the Holy Spirit’s beauty in making scripture something they carry with them.
So a Biblical imagination is alive and well in Texas?
It is absolutely alive … it may be crazy sometimes, but it’s alive and well. I don’t see that in the Northeast. I really don’t see it. I don’t see it among our leaders, I don’t see it among some of the university people, and I don’t even see it among all of our Catholics. But when you go south of the Mason/Dixon line and get into the Bible Belt, it’s still there. The Biblical vocabulary and imagination is alive.
In the Northeast, for example, they simply ridicule creationism. In Texas it’s argued in a different way, because the Biblical imagination is still strong. There’s a different way of approaching it, even intellectually, than in the Northeast. I was so impressed by these two women. They had lost everything, but they were not going to lose their sense that God is with them. I just think that’s magnificent. One threw out the Lucan Marian hymn, the other Psalm 40, and I loved them both.
Cardinal DiNardo Honored During Local Visit
Sept 05, 2008
The Mass this evening at St. Paul Cathedral honored a man who grew up in the area and is now a Cardinal in the Catholic Church.
PITTSBURGH (KDKA, Aug 23, 2008) ― Cardinal Daniel DiNardo grew up in St. Ann's Parish in Castle Shannon.
He is on a visit this weekend to Pittsburgh and took part the in Mass in Oakland on Saturday night.
Before leaving the area, Cardinal DiNardo studied with Diocese of Pittsburgh Bishop David Zubik and served several parishes in the area.
He helped to form Sts. John and Paul in Marshall Township back in 1994 and also served at Madonna del Castello in Swissvale.
Cardinal DiNardo now serves as the Archbishop of Galveston/Houston.
Before his visit ends, he will say Mass on Sunday morning back Sts. John and Paul Church.
Cardinal DiNardo speaks to media
Mar 25, 2008
In a meeting with the media in the Cathedral’s basement, Cardinal Dinardo was jovial and excited.
(siouxcityjournal.com/blogs) He expressed happiness to be back in Siouxland, where he said he his experience as a “baby bishop” prepared him to be Cardinal.
Dinardo talked about a visit to Pope Benedict where he met the Holy Father and was impressed with his listening skills and ability to discern advice from around the globe. “The Pope is a keen listener and observer and knows how to synthesize things very well.”
Larry Wentz asked about similarities and differences between his Texas and Sioux City positions.
“I have a church with 7,000 families in a parish of 23,000 people that speak 70 different languages. It’s quite different from Sioux City in that level. … I have 1.5 million Catholics in the archdiocese.”
As for what he will speak on: “I’m going to speak on how much I love Houston, but how much I miss county blacktops and Caseys doughnuts. … It is those things that are very dear to me.”
His thoughts on his calling: “When I was sent here, you could get to know your parish priests. I really enjoyed myself here. So did I ever think I’d be named a Cardinal? Absolutely not. … I was in a state of shock to surprise. That way it is all the grace and gift of the Holy Father.”
“The United States as a nation probably has an understanding of the Catholic faith, yet only 6 percent of the Catholic population lives in the United States. Many live in some of the poorest countries of the world.”
I want to thank you all. its great to come back to Sioux City - there are a lot of familiar faces and some new ones. God Bless.
Use the media well to teach the faith, cardinal encourages Catholic leaders
Mar 19, 2008
It seemed only fitting that a fundraising luncheon for the archdiocese’s television station would serve up a little drama.
SAN ANTONIO, Texas (Today’s Catholic, 3/18/2008) - The seventh annual Catholic Television of San Antonio (CTSA) leadership luncheon, which honored program hosts Deacon Tom and Mary Jane Fox, was held Feb. 25 at the AT&T Centre at San Fernando.
While the day was sunny in the Alamo city, fog was socking in the airport in Houston, delaying the arrival of the keynote speaker for the event by more than three hours. Cardinal Daniel DiNardo of the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston was scheduled to be in San Antonio at 9 a.m., well in advance of the noon gathering downtown. However, the cardinal’s plane did not touch down in the city until 12:15, delaying his appearance at Red McCombs Hall until 12:45.
Thanks to a quick adjustment in which event organizers just reversed the order of the program, the archbishop of Galveston-Houston made it to the podium not a minute too soon, and even brought the gathering to a close at its regularly scheduled ending time.
Cardinal DiNardo served as a priest of the Diocese of Pittsburgh before being named bishop of the Diocese of Sioux City, Iowa in 1997. In 2004 he was named coadjutor bishop of the Diocese of Galveston-Houston. With the elevation of the diocese to an archdiocese, he automatically became coadjutor archbishop, and in 2006, Archbishop DiNardo succeeded Archbishop Joseph A. Fiorenza. Archbishop DiNardo was elevated to the status of cardinal at the Vatican in 2007.
On making disciples
He began his comments by quoting Matthew 28, the “go and make disciples” passage. “You never meet the risen Christ without getting a job,” he laughed. Cardinal DiNardo said he was speaking not as an expert in media, but as a pastor, citing his experiences in beginning a new parish in Pittsburgh, “overseeing 15,000 miles of corn fields in Iowa,” and shepherding 1.5 million Catholics in the Houston area.
“The media has been crucial to the church since the moment St. Paul sent a letter,” said the cardinal. “Paul changed the format of an epistle for what he needed to do.”
After congratulating Catholic Television of San Antonio for 25 years of perseverance, Cardinal DiNardo explored some of the areas in which the media could help the church.
“One of the things the media can help us to do is to provide instruction,” he said. “That may seem to be droll or unimportant, but I have done 240 confirmations in four years and observed that young people raised on media have an incredible enthusiasm for the Catholic faith, a desire for prayer and catechesis, but an abysmal knowledge of the faith.”
The cardinal lamented that the media disparage religion in general and dismiss Scripture, giving young people an understanding of the faith that is not Catholic.
“There is a rich, evocative understanding of doctrine, but the problem is that it is not being communicated,” said Cardinal DiNardo. “I will always salute catechists. They are the unsung heroes, and they can be assisted by the media, which is sophisticated in form and can help with context.” He continued, “We can all use and stand a dose of what media can provide, especially TV and radio. It can be done in an entertaining fashion. It can be beguiling and inviting. Then we can give the substance of faith. The form of presentation needs constant adjustment.”
‘It’s all about the human person’
The archbishop of Galveston-Houston emphasized that it was especially critical for Catholic media to “allow the liturgical life of the church to come through. That is very important for a fuller understanding of the Catholic faith. They will also continue to report the news about us — whether good or bad — but in a better context than other media.”
He also stressed the importance of the church’s communication tools providing good, pure entertainment. “That is difficult to find,” he said. “There is a richness of catechetical stories among our families, who provide a great deal of wisdom.”
The former Pittsburgh priest told attendees that, after serving as bishop of Sioux City, Iowa for six months, he had an ad limina visit in 1998 with Pope John Paul II. The pope’s parting comments to him were, “It’s all about the human person.”
In 2004, in a document on social communications, the pontiff urged the media to be in service to the human person, in formation and serving in charity and love. “The document is still clear, scintillating, and extremely important,” explained Cardinal DiNardo. “Because of singularity, the human person uses the word, ‘I.’ The one who says ‘I’ is so important to the sharing of truth. We need to talk to each other. The media is going to do what it does, and we will put first the priority of the human person. I will pray that all Catholic media represented will be here for the human person.”
Cardinal DiNardo calls on Texas Episcopalians
Feb 18, 2008
Malcolm Gee of Texas City seemed just a little bit nervous at Moody Gardens on Friday night — and with good reason. He was at the head of a 150-yard long procession that included hundreds of Episcopal priests and deacons drawn from throughout the Diocese of Texas, along with one Roman Catholic cardinal, Daniel N. DiNardo.
(The Daily News, February 17, 2008) GALVESTON — As the diocesan council convened, Gee was leading this line of notables with an ancient banner from the first Episcopal congregation in the Diocese of Texas, Christ Church, Matagorda. Dressed in a traditional off-white cassock with rope belt, he supported a 7-feet tall staff that displayed the embroidered symbol of church history, which was handmade in 1838 for that initial and successful Episcopal mission effort to evangelize early Texans.
“I’m really kind of afraid of it,” said the tall teen, referring to the revered, rectangular, cloth. “I mean, if one little thing were to fall off it and — gosh.”
Located a long “Hail, Mary” pass beyond Gee, far down the hallway, was Cardinal DiNardo, who not only was not nervous, but also clearly was at home among friends. He worked the assembly of Anglicans, greeting many of the Episcopal leaders warmly by name. He moved quickly through the massed clergy with the fluid grace of an experienced public person.
Dressed in the unmistaken orange-red shoulder cape and cap of his office, his vestments seemed electric in contrast to the far more muted beige worn by most of the other clergy lined up in the outside hallway of Ballroom C.
Although his dress may have set him apart, he made it clear that he was there to encourage unity among Christians.
“It’s an honor to be here,” DiNardo said. “It’s the first time I’ve been at anything like this here in Texas. I appreciate the invitation of Bishop (Don) Wimberly. We pray that the Lord Jesus bless us all and keep us one — particularly in the middle of this Lenten season.”
Wimberly led the liturgical services, which included the Eucharist and a renewal of baptismal vows, that opened the council.
When asked about internal controversies in both faiths, the cardinal responded, “When you’re in your own church, sometimes you fight more than you do with outsiders — some of our own priests might say the same thing.”
This opening event was followed Saturday by a day of business and budget meetings. No controversy was in view this year, and all the clerics interviewed said no matter what fireworks may occur at the national level, they were looking for unity and not division as far as the Diocese of Texas was concerned.
The congregation of clerics received DiNardo’s speech with rapt attention. There was frequent laughter at his studied informality, his dynamic delivery and emphatic directness.
He began by displaying the bright green budget book, which the convention was considering during the council meetings.
“It is Lent; I must confess my sins,” the cardinal said in beginning his homily. “I first opened to the page with the bishop’s salary on it.”
The remark was met with loud applause and laughter.
“Bishop Don, not bad!” he said referring to the annual earnings listed for Episcopal bishops. “Then I looked at the diocesan assessment on local churches. Now you know that I’m a very good bishop.”
Speaking of Houston’s Bush Intercontinental airport, DiNardo noted that the Latin word for baggage is “impedimenta,” meaning something that needed to be left behind. He characterized the disciples’ hesitation to leave behind their preconceptions about Jesus, even referring to them as both “wimps” and “clueless.”
At one point, he gently struck the podium for emphasis. The motion was magnified by the sensitive sound system, which shook the loudspeakers and sent a small shudder rippling through the audience.
“When you come to Jesus, you get a job,” DiNardo said. “It may not be an official ministry, but you’ll be called and sent. The world wants to hear that Christians are sent, (are) credible and will do what we say.”
Michael Jackson of Galveston’s St. Vincent House watched from the front row, but it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a cardinal or experienced a service with a Catholic bishop. He explained that he had long ago found advantages in cross-denominational worship.
“It’s good to see people of all faiths come together,” Jackson said. “I’m from Washington, D.C., so when I wanted to go to Eucharist, I’d often go to a Roman Catholic church.”
Jackson noted that Catholic churches then offered services all day long.
“I could go at 5:30 and have my Sunday taken care of,” he said. “There was a Catholic cardinal at the church just up the street. So I could go play ball afterward; I’m a pragmatist.”
Jackson was not only matter-of-fact when it comes to interfaith worship; he’s also focused on meeting practical needs locally.
“St. Vincent’s House is our primary outreach to the poor in Galveston, and it is supported by both our local (Episcopal) churches and by the Diocese,” he said. One of the ministries in view this year will be children’s health.
“We’re on the task force for lead testing and we’re pushing for all kids in Galveston to get tested.”
Jackson isn’t the only one who has seen high-ranking Catholics at Episcopal meetings. The Rev. Joe Chambers, the associate rector at Holy Comforter Church in Spring, said that as early as the 1960s, a Catholic archbishop was addressing Episcopal conventions in Louisiana.
“To come and preach is a big thing, and I’m excited about the cardinal being here,” he said. “The Catholic archbishop in Louisiana participated with us as much as he was allowed back in the ’60s. I’ve been in five diocese and I’ve seen it all.”
New role hasn’t changed first Texas cardinal
Jan 19, 2008
Even in the full attire required for a cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church, Daniel DiNardo appears completely at ease.
(The Huntsville Item, January 19, 2008) With a sincere smile that reaches his warm, dark eyes, he carries himself as though he is surrounded by close friends, and he speaks with an affection both for those around him and for his new position.
“I’m still the same Dan DiNardo,” he said prior to baptizing and confirming nine inmates at the Wynne Unit. “While being a cardinal is a heavy responsibility, and I consider it a great honor to be a cardinal, I wouldn’t want to change my personality.”
DiNardo, who was elevated to cardinal on Nov. 24, 2007, is the first cardinal named from Texas.
In fact, he said, he is the first cardinal named who is from the southern United States.
“I was shocked when it was announced,” DiNardo said. “Now that it has happened, I find people who are both Catholic and non-Catholic are very pleased.
“I think it really says something that Rome has recognized this great growth in the Catholic population in the South — the faith is here and people recognize it.”
DiNardo, who is originally from Pittsburgh, Pa., served as a priest for 20 years before becoming a bishop in Sioux City, Iowa.
He later became the archbishop of the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston, which he continues to oversee even with his new title.
With his new standing, DiNardo will serve as a member of the body of advisers for the pope.
While he will travel to the Vatican approximately twice a year for that purpose, he will remain a chief pastor of more than 1.3 million Roman Catholics in the Galveston-Houston area.
“Even though I had the title of cardinal added, I’m still the archbishop of Galveston-Houston, so it’s been awful busy,” he said. “Your schedule gets kind of messed up, but this is a great honor both for the diocese and for me.
“I’ll also have to go to Rome occasionally for meetings with the pope, because as a cardinal, you become more of a special adviser to the pope.”
During one of his meetings with the pope, DiNardo said the pope gave him a very straightforward reason for his new title.
“The pope said to me, ‘Texas needs a cardinal,’” DiNardo said. “Needless to say, I didn’t disagree with the pope.”
Not only does DiNardo take his interaction with the pope seriously, but he also places importance on how he relates to those he works with on a daily basis.
“Because I’m in the South, I have to make sure I’m paying attention to the pastoral and the human needs of people,” he said. “As a cardinal, if I sign a letter, it may have some effect and I take that very seriously.”
Since being elevated to his new position in the Catholic church, DiNardo said he has experienced things he may not have gotten to experience as an archbishop.
“Without being too specific, a national legislator wanted to talk with me recently,” he said. “We had a very frank but a very pleasant discussion, and I feel like we talked about a lot of issues that needed addressing.
“I don’t think, if I weren’t a cardinal, that it would have happened.”
Overall, DiNardo said his priorities have stayed close to the same principles he has always maintained.
“My major reason to be with the church is to preach, teach, celebrate the sacrament and to be with people,” he said. “Being with people is the part I love the most. In my opinion, it’s the best, most wonderful part of my job.”
THE CHURCHMAN OF THE YEAR: The Reluctant Prince
Jan 08, 2008
2007 CHURCHMAN OF THE YEAR -- US
Cardinal Daniel N. DiNardo
Archbishop of Galveston-Houston
Whispers in the Loggia, January 5, 2008
"Se ve. Se siente. DiNardo está presente."
"You see it. You feel it. DiNardo is here."
Just six weeks ago, that was the word from Rome. The surroundings might've been Italian, the chant Spanish, but its voice was catholic as, by the hundreds, a diverse group from the American South stormed the Vatican to mark their arrival on the stage of the global church.
From relative obscurity (at least, in the public mind), the Pope had tapped Archbishop Daniel DiNardo of Galveston-Houston -- head of the US' youngest archdiocese, 31st in rank of the 34 archbishops -- to enter the papal senate. In a church where seniority and precedent often trump all else, the move has continued to find not a few of its establishment claiming "surprise," as states of shock or confounded silences continue to linger on the scene.
From every angle, however, it was a destiny years in the making.
In barely three decades, the mother see of Texas -- home to the nation's fourth-largest city, an emerging capital of international transport, migration and commerce -- had rocketed to a place among the nation's ten largest dioceses by population, its Catholic presence quadrupling to 1.5 million. The last American see to receive its first cardinal was Washington, where Archbishop Patrick O'Boyle received his red hat in 1967. The scarlet hadn't traveled to a new region of the country since 1953, when Los Angeles' James Francis McIntyre became the "Cardinal of the West." And among the chronicle of American Catholicism's 46 princes of the church since New York's John McCloskey was called to the college in 1875, a Southern prelate's induction into the Roman clergy joins the elevations of McCloskey, McIntyre and the 1924 rise of the first "Western" cardinal -- Chicago's George Mundelein -- as the watershed moments when the faith's pilgrimage across a continent earned its vanguards a place on the universal scene.
At the audience for his newly-created lieutenants, Benedict XVI might've told DiNardo that "Texas needed a cardinal." But its
fruition was the climactic stroke of a Roman design a decade in the works.
Its script: to catapult the Curialist who picked parish ministry over a Vatican post from his founding pastorate in suburban Pittsburgh to an elector's seat in the conclave.
It all happened before his 60th birthday. And little of it as the wiry, unassuming cleric would've wished.
Lone Star Country needed a cardinal before 2007. Rome just bided its time 'til its choice got there. And, in a rare triumph of Vatican clairvoyance, the bet has paid off spectacularly.
They say that "everything's bigger in Texas," and the customary bounce of energy that a local church gets from the red hat is no exception. According to the locals, the elevation "has breathed new life" into an already booming, energized fold. Since arriving home, the new cardinal has been welcomed by crowds of thousands at every turn, his post-liturgy reception lines running into the early hours of the morning. A stronger sense of identity and unity is already being felt among the multiethnic mega-flock, and several parishes have noticed a curious uptick of calls about RCIA programs in the weeks following the November consistory.
The Houston press -- which had, according to one local, primarily "covered [the archdiocese] when the news was bad" -- provided acres and hours of the finest, most enthusiastic elevation coverage ever seen on these shores. And most significantly of all, in the very city where the first Catholic president sought to assuage panicked Protestant clergymen that the White House wouldn't take its lead from the Apostolic Palace, some of the most effusive testimonies to the advent of a Roman prince have come from H-Town's ecumenical and interfaith communities.
Texas -- and Houston in particular -- likes to view itself as the "New America," and not without reason. With Catholics recently edging out Evangelicals as the state's largest religious group, the new America has bred a model of American Church gaining in strength, size and reputation, an ascendancy now recognized with the elevation of a new breed of American Cardinal -- the post-institutional prince of the church.
Some might still be stunned, but it all happened in plain view. It just took a flash of scarlet to emerge to the fore.
And to think: it's only just beginning.
* * *
"This is Sambi. Sit down."
At mid-morning on 15 October, DiNardo was checking out of an Oklahoma City hotel when the papal nuncio to Washington, Archbishop Pietro Sambi, reached the Texas prelate on his cell-phone.
Due to a calcium buildup that requires hearing-aids in both his ears, DiNardo rarely uses his mobile; it mostly collects his messages, which he checks intermittently on a land-line.
Seeing the nunciature number, however, he picked up.
Having sat, Sambi dropped the bomb, telling him to return immediately to Houston. And everything afterward became a blur.
The announcement would be made 40 hours later. He told no one. By 11am Wednesday, five hours after Benedict revealed his list of 23 new cardinals during his weekly General Audience, the phone messages had already piled up by the hundreds at the Houston chancery.
Literally overnight, the quiet, relatively low-key life DiNardo loved was over.
Slight but intense, in contrast to some of his more overpowering peers, the cardinal cuts an inconspicuous figure. This was the prelate who, after a long day at last year's November Meeting, sat quietly with his usual Pinot Grigio in a corner of the Baltimore Marriott lounge, clad in a plaid button-down shirt and khaki Tommy Hilfiger windbreaker as, at the center of the room, a score of his confreres held court in their day-dress of collars, suits and pectoral crosses.
The hearing-aids were turned down, and the lone figure -- indistinguishable were it not for the same iconographic gold band he'd worn since his episcopal ordination -- almost seemed to be at prayer.
He's not one to seek out attention. But seek him out and, like a light switch, the "nervous energy" jump-starts itself.
He's a figure of wild contrasts: the Basselin Scholar given to earthy, dynamic preaching from the middle of church aisles; fluent in Latin but devoted to the spirituality of the Eastern tradition; loved in the Curia but wary of the trappings of high office; the staunch defender of Summorum Pontificum who spent a whole week last summer "singing his head off" and mixing with attendees at the Indianapolis conference of the National Pastoral Musicians, of which he's episcopal liaison. (A music fan who's spoken of singing as "the elevation of the human voice," DiNardo's motto -- "Ave Crux Spes Unica" ("Hail, O Cross, Our Only Hope") -- is taken from a sixth-century Roman hymn.)
The catch-all nature has baffled more than a few. At his 1997 ordination as coadjutor-bishop of Sioux City, the clergy of the Iowa diocese attempted the standard practice of figuring out their boss-in-waiting from his choices of co-consecrators and attending chaplains.
The "read" might usually be a reliable indicator. On this occasion, however -- and to the frustration of the local clergy -- the exercise proved futile.
Assisting then-Siouxland Bishop Lawrence Soens were DiNardo's former ordinary, then-Bishop Donald Wuerl of Pittsburgh, and the new bishop's classmate and longtime friend, then-Bishop Raymond Burke of LaCrosse.
The chaplains made for an even harder read. At one side stood the delicate, straight-laced Msgr Leonard Blair of Detroit, the onetime secretary of Cardinal Edmund Szoka and current bishop of Toledo. On the other was his best friend since high school -- the ponytailed, Harley-riding Fr Lou Vallone of Pittsburgh, known in the South for his proficiency at giving Black church revivals.
In the place he's spoken of as "14,000 square miles of cornfields, that just happened to contain 93,000 Catholics," the Iowans eventually came to recognize their bishop as "the most gifted man of the church we have ever experienced."
It was something they only would learn, however, once he hit the ground running.
* * *
In a column for Sioux City's diocesan paper, DiNardo once wrote of learning what true darkness was as he drove down Iowa roads to get home.
The straight, unlit drags through cornfields were a far cry from his hometown of Pittsburgh, and even further removed from the cramped and winding streets of Rome. But, so he says, it was in the Heartland that the onetime director of the English desk at the Congregation for Bishops actually learned how to be one.
In 1984, the newly-arrived bishop of Pittsburgh, Anthony Bevilacqua, found a request from the Vatican dicastery requesting one of his priests for a five-year tour of duty.
Bevilacqua's predecessor, Bishop Vincent Leonard -- who ordained DiNardo six years earlier -- invariably refused the feelers from Central Office. But the Brooklyn-born, Rome-trained canonist -- who would, in time, go on to become cardinal-archbishop of Philadelphia -- was more given to the bigger picture of the church than Leonard, a native son who, DiNardo said, "taught me the value of being local, of belonging to a place."
After a canvass of his senior staff, the bishop offered the assignment to DiNardo, then 34 and doing double-duty as vice-chancellor and a professor at St Paul Seminary.
Marked out from his high school days as a standout talent, he was no stranger to the Eternal City, having spent his seminary days at the Pontifical North American College, studying in turns at the Gregorian and the Augustinianum, where he earned his licentiate in Patristics. The timing of his return, however, would prove fortuitous.
In a historic move months earlier, Pope John Paul II had appointed Cardinal Bernardin Gantin to head the congregation. Born in Benin, Gantin was the first African ever named to lead one of the nine top-level offices overseeing the internal matters of the worldwide church.
As minutante, or desk officer, DiNardo was responsible for processing the case-files pertaining to episcopal appointments in the US, Canada, Britain and Australia. The reports would then go to the body's membership of cardinals, who would vote on a nominee to recommend to the Pope.
Since the dicastery's work was a topic of intense focus around the globe, the job didn't just require a work ethic diligent enough to pore through ceaseless reams of documentation -- the 1985 selection of a new archbishop of Los Angeles, for example, saw a dossier that measured some two feet high dropped on his desk -- but the utmost discretion, to boot.
Every public, and some not-so-public, details of candidates' lives and careers lay on the junior cleric's desk, and whatever he saw would have to go with him to the grave. And, day after day, the files gave their reader a unique glimpse into the church's universality. Even more usefully for the road ahead, it allowed him to see that the church in the States was less a monolith than a tapestry of cultures, administrative models, pastoral ideas and the faithful's needs. As if the day job (on the usual curial schedule of six days a week) wasn't enough, he took on two other commitments: the directorate of Villa Stritch, the residence for American priests in the Vatican apparatus, and an adjunct position on the faculty of the NAC.
Both on the job and off, DiNardo's qualities of mind and spirit won a keen admirer in Gantin, among other curial chiefs and staffers. As 1989 approached and the early birds outside the walls began speculating on possibilities for John Paul's successor, the African cardinal had appeared on not a few lists of papabili. More concretely, however, his American aide's five-year term was ending.
It could've been renewed, and seemingly would've been without a flinch. If not, that is, for one minor issue: having served his stint, the Pittsburgher wanted to go home, back to the life of a parish priest.
"Dan will obey, but he'll say what he wants," a friend noted. The almost unheard-of wish to bolt Rome for the trenches was something of a brutta figura move -- if anything, most curialists would give anything to spend their lives in the Vatican offices, a quality especially true of non-Italians. Then again, honesty was one of the traits that won him his superiors' regard to begin with, even if it cut both ways.
It took a year of resisting the attempts to keep him from leaving, but his bosses realized he wouldn't be changing his mind. In 1990, Wuerl -- who had succeeded Bevilacqua in the Steel City two years earlier -- named DiNardo co-pastor of an Italian parish, Madonna del Castello, on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
At the time, friends recall him saying that "I've got everything I want in my life."
But there was more. Alongside the parish duties, he was named the diocese's #2 official in Wuerl's specialty area: education. DiNardo shared his bishop's devotion to catechesis -- one that, the former said, could only be rooted in "knowing the face of Christ" if it sought to be effective -- and to the formation of the young.
While Wuerl built a national following as the "education bishop," the younger official who ended up leapfrogging him to the Sacred College was honing his approach on ground level.
After four years juggling his first pastorate and the office, the teacher-prelate handed his lieutenant a new lesson.
Twenty miles outside Pittsburgh, the suburban community of Marshall Township was expanding at a rapid clip. In early 1994, Wuerl announced that 12 acres there would be home to a new parish, Saints John and Paul. Named in tribute to the then-pontiff -- who had ordained Wuerl to the episcopacy eight years earlier -- it also evoked the Passionist church on Rome's Coelian Hill (which, since 1946, has been the titular parish of the archbishops of New York). Appropriately, DiNardo was tapped to found it.
In his Whispers interview, the newly-named designate said that, among his models of ministry, one of the most powerful came from the pastor of his first parish assignment.
Fr Tom Marpes would always be on the lookout out for regulars who were missing from Sunday Mass. Without fail, the next afternoon found the Lebanese priest at the table in the rectory kitchen as he called the absentees -- not to chide, but simply to make sure they were OK.
"It might sound unusual today," his former associate said, "but it was his way of showing that he cared."
The example proved particularly useful in keeping tabs on a new community's growth. No buildings existed on the parish plot, so "Father Dan" -- though made a monsignor in Rome, he shirked the title -- and a core group from his 650 families began tracking down a starter site for Masses and offices, eventually nabbing a 300-seat makeshift "chapel" and two smaller rooms on the lower level of a local office complex.
While DiNardo came to realize the one easy part of founding a parish -- "you don't hear 'But, Father, we've done it this way for years' for the first six months" -- every so often, the ghost of Rome would reappear and see if he was still enjoying himself at home.
Just in case he wasn't, "something" -- most likely an episcopal appointment in the Curia -- could always be arranged. Gladly.
The pastor was happy and the parish was growing -- a return trip wasn't wanted or needed. But his fans along the Tiber hadn't given up finding something he'd finally see fit to accept.
* * *
By 1997, it was no secret in Rome that Gantin's 13-year stewardship of the Congregation for Bishops was nearing its end. He had been elected Dean of the College of Cardinals some years earlier, but longed to pull a DiNardo of his own and return to his homeland (a request John Paul would only approve when, after his 80th birthday in 2002, he retired from the latter post).
No curial don leaves office without shepherding a handful of cherished projects to fruition, and the Dean from Benin was no exception. His friend from Pittsburgh had been given seven years to live the dream and work quietly on the ground at home, but the reserved cardinal known for his prayerful spirit and gentle touch wouldn't go until he ensured that his former aide's talents had been put to the church's wider service.
By then, the task DiNardo once performed alone required not one Pennsylvanian, but two. The staff was on board, as were the four American cardinals who sat on the congregation's voting membership. And, in a facet that wouldn't come to full bloom until a decade later, undoubtedly aware of -- and sharing in -- the departing prefect's esteem for the Pittsburgher was the cardinal who was the congregation's best-prepared, most observant member: Gantin's closest ally in the Curia's top rank, the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Joseph Ratzinger.
Knowing of the candidate's fondness for intense study before acting, the pitch was sweetened by making his appointment not a direct one to the bishop's chair, but as successor-in-waiting to a cooperative 71 year-old ordinary, providing a learning period that would allow for the most seamless transition possible.
In the dead of summer, as much of Pittsburgh was making its annual pilgrimages to South Carolina and Stone Harbor, the call was placed to Marshall.
A year earlier, Fr Dan had overseen the completion of a multi-use building of classrooms, offices, a temporary church and pastor's apartment, and had the project's debt paid off within months.
The nominee had to check his atlas to find Sioux City. But this time, he accepted.
"We knew he wouldn't be here long," one Siouxlander said. As for what the new arrival brought to the table in a place that was "certainly not the center of the universal church," a local priest brimmed to overflowing.
"His intelligence, wit, and ability to passionately and persuasively preach the Gospel are unmatched," the cleric said.
"He is also a genuinely humble man -- there's no way that he could be unaware of his gifts, [but] he never made a fuss over himself, and was visibly uncomfortable when other people did.
"Before all else, he is a shepherd."
Without fail, the bishop cris-crossed the diocese relentlessly: present at every function, taking time with every person, sometimes getting an earful (and doing what he could about it), keeping contacts across the turf, and sticking around 'til the last person had gone. (The only people he was known to avoid: politicians... who tend to be especially abundant in Iowa every fourth winter.) The priests' monthly deanery meetings would be a double-bill of business and down-time with the Boss, small-group dinners were routine at the simple house in a suburban development he called home and, with his distaste for handlers, his entourage was never more than himself.
The mark of the pastor, however, lay away from the big-print. While churchfolk can easily be tempted to measure leadership by the yardsticks of grand initiatives, big numbers or public flourishes, the record shows none of these. A pastor knows that the commission to teach and preach -- to lead and give life -- isn't done in the wholesale, nor through policies, nor at the desk, but one by one, person to person. The policy is the Gospel, the most priceless asset is faith; live by and invest in those, and the rest just has a way of working itself out.
(The closest thing to a diocesan initiative DiNardo sought in Sioux City was an effort to train his priests in spiritual direction, with the hope that his clergy and the people could easily find regular, sound guidance.)
The bishop's interest in a low profile extended practically to everything outside his diocese. The congregation, however, kept its eye on Iowa, and barely five years after succeeding Soens as diocesan bishop, another phone call was being prepared.
By late 2003 -- after a spate of rumors had the Siouxland prelate in the mix for the bishopric of Brooklyn -- Gantin had gone home, replaced by his former second-in-command, Giovanni Battista Re. Ratzinger was still at the table, as were the four Americans. In the wake of the abuse earthquake of 2002, the nation's bishops felt under siege and, with American cases being placed under a closer microscope, the appointment process had started to go beyond the usual six to nine month time frame.
One succession, however, was settled before it could even be broached.
A leader of the US church's "good-governance" wing, as Bishop Joseph Fiorenza of Galveston-Houston approached his 73rd birthday in early 2004, he sent a letter to the congregation advising that it might want to start considering the appointment of a coadjutor for Texas' largest diocese.
The flock was booming at a staggering rate, with domestic transplants and an international mix of immigrants pouring in to an extent that the church was hard-pressed to keep pace with. A former president of the US bishops, Fiorenza often mused that he could open seven parishes the next morning -- if he had the priests to staff them. Religious and foreign clergy outnumbered the incardinated presbyterate by about 2 to 1. And on top of all that, already sharing the episcopal duties with two auxiliaries, the coming of an heir apparent would make the burden easier still.
Just two months after Fiorenza's note to Re, the native-son bishop was reportedly taken aback when the congregation sent word that his coadjutor had been named.
The bishop of Sioux City had never set foot in the Lone Star State. Heading to the home of the nation's second-largest Hispanic community, he couldn't speak Spanish extemporaneously.
But yet again, the vote of confidence was there where it counted -- and, yet again, the chattering circles registered barely a ripple as the design to make Houston the church's Southern hub had rolled into full gear.
There would be no dark roads in Southeast Texas. If anything, quite the opposite.
* * *
As in Sioux City, the deja vu coadjutor used the time to quietly visit each parish, take mental notes, get a feel for his new turf -- and, most importantly, dig in with the people. Or try to -- it was, after all, a mission-field with 15 times the faithful of Northeast Iowa.
Nine months after DiNardo's Texan welcome -- held in a large parish church as the 600-seat Houston co-cathedral was deemed too small -- the future came into an even wider view.
During the Christmas Octave of 2004, as John Paul's declining health loomed ominously over the Catholic world, the state's longtime metropolitan, Archbishop Patrick Flores of San Antonio, retired, with the Denver auxiliary Jose Gomez (a longtime Houston hand before his appointment to the Rockies) named to succeed him. But simultaneously, for the first time since 1980, an American province was split up -- San Antonio would keep the western seven suffragans of what had been the global church's largest metropolitan jurisdiction as the eastern six were siphoned off to the newly-elevated archdiocese of Galveston-Houston.
Within a matter of years, a chain of events unseen in US Catholicism since the overnight explosions of the dioceses of Los Angeles and Detroit in the early 1940s quickly became evident: first, the population rose, then the caliber of leadership, a pallium appeared... and the rest -- i.e. the red -- would soon follow.
Having visited all but a few of the new archdiocese's 149 parishes over the course of his two-year apprenticeship, on Mardi Gras 2006 -- ironically enough, also Opening Day of the city's biggest annual event: the renowned Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo -- DiNardo became the second archbishop as the newly-elected Benedict XVI accepted Fiorenza's retirement. To mark the transition, the new chief issued a video message via the archdiocesan website and set out immediately to work.
His journey to the corner office completed, the mental notes he'd been taking quickly became action items. Gently, but firmly, they came to light: insufficiently reverent tabernacle placements were to be rectified, and liturgical norms adhered to more faithfully; permanent deacons would start receiving assignments to archdiocesan ministries in addition to their parish duties; even more resources would be poured into young adult ministry -- and, especially given the dearth of homegrown clergy, priests belonged in the parishes, not the chancery.
The venue might've changed, his profile raised mightily, but the man and his hallmarks stayed the same: never an MC, driver, or priest-secretary hovering over him, no desire for a national profile or responsibilities outside the diocese (except NPM), out among the people whenever possible, appraised of the doings in the office but not immersed in them; and, when his presence was sought, seldom (if ever) saying "no."
As in Sioux City, following his succession the archbishop took up residence at another simple, small house, this time at St Mary's Seminary. (His first Houston home, however, was humbler still; Fiorenza had allotted his coadjutor a spartan two-room flat on the chancery's top floor.) Reflecting its occupant's Eastern affinity, iconography now decorates the chapel of the traditional Archbishop's Residence, which boasts just one accoutrement not often seen in his parishes -- a chalice veil.
His collaborators have described him in turns as "a gift of God," "a truly holy man," and "one who personifies Christ's love for the church." But that doesn't mean the experience has been without its bumps.
At a priests' gathering shortly after taking the reins from Fiorenza, DiNardo made a point of underscoring his seriousness about rubrics and well-celebrated liturgy. Channeling Dirty Harry, those who did otherwise were, he said, welcome to "make my day."
The remark sparked outrage among segments of the presbyterate. When asked about it at a subsequent convocation, he apologized. In the end, his ability to admit an error ended up earning more goodwill than the initial quote could've drained. Two years later, after pressure from his staff forced the naming of a priest-secretary on his elevation, he apologized again to his presbyteral council for drawing on the archdiocese's clerical resources. (The choice of aide fell on Fr Gerald Goodrum, who Fiorenza ordained in 2005.)
Not the greatest enthusiast for the administrative end of the office, the reshuffle of the archdiocese's central staff is ongoing. Keeping with the aim to not place any further strain on the already-stretched demand for clergy, Bishop Joe Vasquez -- the lone active auxiliary -- serves as chancellor and, in a first, DiNardo named a laywoman, Christina Deajon, as Vasquez's deputy on his first day in office. (A former assistant counsel to the archdiocese, Deajon is believed to be the highest-ranking African-American layperson serving in a US chancery.) At present, the archdiocese's top two financial posts are in the process of being filled.
He delegates authority willingly and expects the best -- and as one aide who's seen him in office mode put it, were anything less delivered, "I wouldn't want to be on his bad side."
That firmness, however, finds its flip-side in creativity. While many of his confreres either panicked at or turned a blind eye to the 2006 Vatican ruling revoking the permission for lay liturgical ministers to participate in the purification of vessels, the now-cardinal came up with a "third way" solution that both complied with the policy while avoiding post-Communion chaos, establishing a diocesan program for the formation of acolytes. Married men can be admitted to the order, and instituted acolytes were still permitted to care for the vessels by universal law.
While the predominant response sought to criticize the policy-change as pastorally insensitive or excessively rigid, a practical solution was present in the rubrics all along, it just took a bit of investment at the outset.
The Houston prelate saw the opening and ran with it. How many others did is anyone's guess.
* * *
As he was in 1997 and 2003, Joseph Ratzinger was back at the personnel table earlier this year when DiNardo's name came up. This time, however, his was the lone vote that mattered.
Never one to forget a name or face, Benedict XVI first met the young priest from Pittsburgh as he took notes for Gantin at the bilateral meetings between the top officials of the CDF and Bishops. The staff's job was to remain inconspicuous. Clearly, though, enough of an impression had been made.
Back in the States, the names proffered for the red hat were primarily the old guard of the church: Washington, St Louis, Baltimore. Not a few advocated San Antonio -- US Catholicism's Hispanic seat -- and Gomez as the more likely choice should a red hat travel. But in the end, alongside the chiefs of the Curia and the heads of the marquee sees of Paris, Bombay, Nairobi and Barcelona, it was Galveston-Houston's chief pastor who got the nod, completing its rapid ascent to the top tier of the global church.
But some things were still more important -- at least, for the figure at the center of the storm. As the chaos of Announcement Day bore down and cameras swarmed the chancery for a hastily-called, exuberant press conference (fullvideo), DiNardo kept a commitment to attend the installation of a Protestant pastor in the city. The following afternoon, with the frantic plans for the unprecedented consistory pilgrimage just beginning to take shape, he refused to miss a priest's funeral.
Twice a coadjutor, one thing DiNardo never had was a proper installation as a diocesan bishop. He ended up with a coronation instead as, over Thanksgiving Weekend, the threads of his life converged in the Eternal City.
To the amusement of Vallone's longtime sidekick, the sight of a cassocked cleric with a ponytail provided enough of an attraction to keep the crowd under control as almost a thousand well-wishers queued up for a moment with the new cardinal at the traditional post-consistory reception in the Apostolic Palace. And earlier that day, as the bareheaded cardinal-designate processed down the main aisle of St Peter's with the other 22 honorees, another pilgrim took to shouting "Hey, DiNardo!" over the basilica's barricades.
On his way to be inducted into the Roman clergy, the voice of Marshall was calling.
Since departing his founding pastorate for Sioux City, Fr Dan's initial flock of 650 families had more than tripled at Sts. John and Paul, and Fr Joe McCaffrey had been tasked with the construction of a permanent church.
Spotted by his onetime spiritual director, "he shouted back," McCaffrey told a local paper, "asking how things are at the parish."
Led by his twin sister, Peg, his three siblings and their families were there, as was his ordination classmate David Zubik, now Pittsburgh's 12th bishop, with a planeload from the Steel City. A low-profile retirement couldn't keep Bevilacqua from seeing the first of his proteges to don the "sacred purple" alongside him, and from the Heartland where he learned what episcopal ministry was all about, a group of 40 from Sioux City -- including his successor, Bishop Walker Nickless -- descended to honor the first American cardinal whose road wound through Iowa.
But for all these, the week belonged to the upwards of 700 Texans. The group's diversity and excitement turned heads even among their fellow cheering-sections, and as their chants bounced off the city's walls, one longtime Vatican hand said the "radiant" Houston crowd had provided the natives with a much-appreciated sign -- that, for all the bad headlines of recent years, "the church in America is still very much alive."
The show of unity wasn't a one-off occurrence. "Everyone really gets along here," DiNardo said shortly after the elevation was announced, ticking off a list of the archdiocese's cultural groups: the Hispanic majority, a historically prominent African-American contingent, vibrant Vietnamese and Filipino communities, the world's largest concentration of Nigerians outside their home country, and more.
Almost since the beginning, tensions between rival ethnic factions have been a mainstay of the church's American journey... that is, until the Southwest.
The region's newest honor isn't just papal recognition of a metropolis and its momentum, but of the energized, collaborative model that, following generations of Establishment suspicion, earned Southern Catholicism a place at the civic table not through confrontation, coercion or compromise, but a commitment to the common good and the credibility of its witness.
* * *
Returning home exhausted from the feeding frenzy of Consistory Week, the new cardinal received a card from a grade-schooler that summed up the expectations ahead.
"Congratulations, Cardinal," it said. "Now get to work."
Just when he thought his 2008 plans were "worked out," DiNardo told his flock that "a number of things have now been turned topsy-turvy.
"It should be an interesting time in the year ahead," he said. "I really need your prayers!"
As it wasn't just a matter of weeks ago, the ecclesiastical spotlight now rests squarely on what its new prince has termed the "happy chaos" of Houston, of Texas and the wider South.
The archdiocese's marquee event of the year -- the early April dedication of its first permanent Houston hub, the $64 million, 2,000-seat Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart -- now takes on the dynamics of a national, even international, event.
From near and far, the invites and requests have already increased, as has his public prominence on the local circuit, the once-averted political niceties included.
Earlier this week, DiNardo offered the invocation as Houston Mayor Bill White was sworn in for his third term. In mid-December, as Texas Gov. Rick Perry hosted a "private" lunch for 400 to welcome the new cardinal home, the guest of honor used the statewide coverage of the Austin event to tackle the controversial topic of immigration, advocating the moral imperative of family reunification and saying that "punitive measures alone" to the end of protecting the nation's borders "are going to be ultimately ineffective and, I think, counterproductive."
But, again, the ride is just beginning.
At 58, the youngest American cardinal elevated in nearly two decades has another 22 years of eligibility in a conclave. With 15 of the US' 17 red-hats now older than 71, his seniority in the top rank will accrue quickly. What's more, as the undisputed head of the Stateside church's most dynamic region and leader of the second-largest state grouping of the nation's Catholics, his potential degree of national influence -- already evidenced by the deference accorded him at November's USCCB plenary -- could be without peer.
Well, to the degree he seeks to use it. Time is, after all, on his side.
Seemingly overnight, much has changed for the pastor-turned-"Cardinardo." But the mind and approach of his parish roots remain unscathed.
Keen to put one on his rectory wall, a Houston priest recently asked his boss when his formal portrait in the scarlet would be ready. Never a fan of flashbulbs, DiNardo told him there were bigger things to think about -- even in the purple, he said "it's still me." (Six weeks since the consistory, the shot has remained untaken.)
And as he preached from the aisle to a group of young people, another of his clerics was overheard muttering that "This guy should be teaching high school religious ed., not running a diocese."
The line was intended as a slight. But as the nation's hierarchy struggles to restore its credibility, an American cardinal couldn't ask for a better compliment.
Governor, dignitaries welcome Texas' first cardinal of Catholic Church
Dec 14, 2007
Just over two weeks ago, at the Vatican in Rome, Daniel DiNardo, Archbishop of the Galveston-Houston Archdiocese, bent down to kiss the ring of Pope Benedict XVI at ceremonies to install DiNardo and 22 others as the newest cardinals of the Catholic Church.
(MyWestTexas.com, 12/13/2007) AUSTIN -- Just over two weeks ago, at the Vatican in Rome, Daniel DiNardo, Archbishop of the Galveston-Houston Archdiocese, bent down to kiss the ring of Pope Benedict XVI at ceremonies to install DiNardo and 22 others as the newest cardinals of the Catholic Church.
"I said to the pope, 'Holy Father, the archdiocese of Galveston-Houston loves you and wishes to be in communion with you,' and Pope Benedict looked at me and said, 'Texas needed a cardinal.'"
The story met with the loud approval of some 400 Catholics, interfaith representatives and Austin politicos gathered Wednesday at a luncheon, hosted by Gov. Rick Perry and honoring DiNardo, who with his installation last month became the first-ever cardinal, or "prince" of the Catholic Church from Texas.
DiNardo, who made it known as recently as during his time as archbishop, that he still preferred to be called "Father Dan," humbly gave credit to Joseph Fiorenza, his predeccesor as archbishop in the Galveston-Houston archdiocese.
"I feel I should take the red hat they gave me as cardinal, cut it in half and give half it it to Archbishop Fiorenza," DiNardo said.
Fiorenza, former Bishop of San Angelo, the diocese encompassing Midland-Odessa, presided over "the intense growth of the Catholic presence in the archdiocese of Galveston-Houston," according to DiNardo.
"He retired, and had to sit back and watch as the kid from Pittsburgh got the red hat," DiNardo quipped.
There are seven million Catholics in the state of Texas with nearly 80,000 in the San Angelo Diocese.
DiNardo noted a number of issues he would continue to work for as cardinal, including health care, working conditions, immigration, and pro-life issues, which all 15 bishops in the state work on passionately and in tandem.
"All these issues I find important and will work for, and I think I can state it all by saying we want to promote the human person," DiNardo said.
Formerly bishop of Sioux City, Iowa, who began his work in the church as a priest in Pittsburgh, DiNardo said he felt the pope has recognized that the state of Texas is crucial to the dimension and dynamic Catholic presence in the world. DiNardo said he hopes to work closely with Pope Benedict "as he has become an increasingly strong voice in his first two years in office for peace and accord among all nations."
DiNardo also said he felt part of the pope's reasoning for appointing him as a prelate was to take advantage of his leadership in the southern region of the United States, using it as a way to join the two Americas together and therefore further perpetuating the concept of what DiNardo calls "global faith and reason," taking advantage of the love and devotion of Catholics in the southern hemispehere with the progressive nature often found of those in the northern hemisphere.
DiNardo, who will continue to serve as archbishop of Galveston-Houston and in that capacity will serve as leader of that region's Catholics, joked that he wasn't sure exactly what roles he would be given as cardinal, but said, "As soon as I find out I'll let all of you know." Showing his jovial nature and sense of humor throughout his brief talk, DiNardo said his job now is to attend the untold number of functions being held in his honor and "try to look halfway intelligent in front of all these great Catholics."
"Honor is given me, but honor is also given to the dynamic Catholic presence in the state of Texas," he said. "We are now some seven million. We have taken our place in terms of working for the common good with the people of this state and to the extent that I can contribute to that, I want to do that."
In his introduction, Perry said DiNardo was "living proof that the Catholic faith is alive and well in Texas, and called DiNardo a man of faith, wisdom, courage and service; a blessing to our state and an inspiration to everyone."
Speaking with the media afterward, DiNardo said his notes of congratulations were numerous, but one in particular was memorable.
"I received one from a child at a school who wrote, 'Congratulations, cardinal. Now get to work.' "
New U.S. cardinal calls on flock to be energetic disciples like Mary
Dec 07, 2007
Celebrating a Mass of thanksgiving in his "favorite church in Rome," Cardinal Daniel N. DiNardo of Galveston-Houston asked his family, friends and flock to be energetic disciples like Mary was.
By Cindy Wooden
Catholic News Service
ROME (CNS, 27/11/2007) -- Celebrating a Mass of thanksgiving in his "favorite church in Rome," Cardinal Daniel N. DiNardo of Galveston-Houston asked his family, friends and flock to be energetic disciples like Mary was.
The congregation burst into applause when Cardinal DiNardo told them that, when he greeted Pope Benedict XVI after a Nov. 26 audience at the Vatican, the pope said "Texas needs a cardinal."
Joined by his brother and sister, friends from Pennsylvania and Ohio, and hundreds of pilgrims from Texas, the cardinal celebrated Mass Nov. 27 in the Basilica of St. Mary Major, which he said was "my favorite church in Rome since the day I walked in here in 1972 as a first-year student at the (Pontifical) North American College," the U.S. seminary in Rome.
Cardinal DiNardo said the basilica is a place where one is overwhelmed by beauty and serenity, rather than by majesty and space. It is the beauty of the story of God becoming human in Jesus Christ when Mary said yes, he said.
In the Gospel of Luke, he said, "everyone is always on a journey and traveling," beginning with Mary who goes to visit her cousin, Elizabeth, almost immediately after the angel Gabriel proclaims she will give birth to Jesus.
"Everything about the Virgin Mary in the Gospel of Luke is dynamic. There are people who have said that somehow the Virgin Mary is passive. You could never get that from the Gospel. There is always energetic acceptance" of God's will in her life and her action, he said.
"Mary is our queen and our mother," Cardinal DiNardo said. "She is the energy of the church. I beg you to stay close to her as she keeps pushing us in her Magnificat to magnify the Lord and to do his will."
Cardinal DiNardo and his group were welcomed to the basilica by Cardinal Bernard F. Law, the former archbishop of Boston who serves as archpriest of St. Mary Major. In addition to offering his prayers for Cardinal DiNardo, he also asked the congregation to pray for the success of the Middle East peace conference taking place in Annapolis, Md.
The Land of the Free... and the Home of the Red
Nov 25, 2007
With today's elevation of Cardinals John Foley and Daniel DiNardo, the all-time number of US prelates added to the Roman clergy now stands at 46 since John McCloskey of New York received the red hat in 1875.
Whispers in the Loggia, Saturday, November 24, 2007
The Land of the Free... and the Home of the Red
With today's elevation of Cardinals John Foley and Daniel DiNardo, the all-time number of US prelates added to the Roman clergy now stands at 46 since John McCloskey of New York received the red hat in 1875.
The new additions, however, set a record -- 17 American cardinals in all, thirteen of whom may vote in a hypothetical conclave.
DiNardo is the first US cardinal under 60 and the first Italian-American to be named to the college since Roger Mahony and Anthony Bevilacqua respectively brought those distinctions to the table in 1991. Foley is but the second Curial "lifer" from the States to enter the papal senate -- and, just like Cardinal Francis Brennan (the longtime dean of the Roman Rota elevated in 1967) before him, he's a Philadelphian. The River City can now boast of four native sons who've ended up in red, while DiNardo's hometown of Pittsburgh has its second.
Immediately following the consistory, as the rain teemed outside, the American honorees were quickly hustled up the Janiculum Hill to a press conference at the Pontifical North American College, where the "private" afternoon receptions were held for a combined crowd numbering about 2,000.
The National Catholic Reporter's John Allen has rushed a transcript of the meeting -- most of which, in keeping with the exuberant feeling of the day, kept things quite light.
Opening Remarks by Cardinal John Foley: I’ve been told I’m supposed to go first. I think I can speak for Cardinal DiNardo in saying that we’re very grateful to our Holy Father for this great honor, not to us personally but to the church in the United States. We’ve been very well-received by our fellow members of the College of Cardinals, and many of the American members of the College are here today. As one who has worked with the media for so many years, I’m grateful and happy to see so many of you here. It’s a pleasure to see you. Thank you for all the kind things you’ve said about both of us in these days. I said to John Allen yesterday that it’s nice to be canonized without the inconvenience of dying! We’re very grateful for all of your kindness and thoughtfulness and support. We ask you for your prayers. I know that both of us will be available to you as much as we can in these days. Forgive me for asking to be seated at this time, but some bug struck me a couple days ago and I haven’t been in the best possible shape. I’m just trying to survive through the ceremonies. Thank you for your understanding and your patience. I now give you to the man who was my boss here in Rome a number of years ago as director of Villa Stritch, where I live, the residence for American priests who work at the Vatican. Cardinal DiNardo was so kind to me when I celebrated my 25th anniversary as a priest. He had a special dinner for me, and invited other people. He was always very gracious, very thoughtful, so God has rewarded him for his goodness!
Opening Remarks by Cardinal Daniel DiNardo: I think Cardinal Foley has spoken for us both in saying how grateful we all are, first to the Holy Father, and to God’s people. We’re both humbled too by receiving this title, this honor. I would want to add along with Cardinal Foley my gratitude to those of you here with the press. I especially want to thank the press from Houston, if you don’t mind a plug, because they’ve come here from the city of Houston. It is a distinctive honor for not just Texas, but the whole south of the United States, but certainly for Houston. I’m very proud that a cardinal from the south has been named. It’s an honor, a responsibility, and pretty humbling for this kid from Pittsburgh. I’ve been so warmly accepted by the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston, and now to be selected to be a cardinal of the church. I’m delighted. It was a wonderful celebration today, beautiful words of the gospel, beautiful interpretation by the Holy Father today. Thank you.
Cardinal DiNardo, what did you think when the Holy Father put the biretta on your head?
Interview with Cardinal Daniel DiNardo