Tom McMahon writes by way of introduction to his commentary today: "Lost in the revere of it all, let's continue our 1940's walk on the beautiful grounds of old St. Joseph's College aka THE LITTLE CITY OF GOD. You will meet some of my wholesome friends as we mosey down memory lane. Where was God?" Don't miss the links to the two obituaries buried in the article.

Nostalgia around the Little City of God...

I find myself wandering back to my computer, eager to write about the flood of memories that have engulfed me as I write this series, looking at old photo albums and recalling old friends. I had coffee last week with long time friend Ernie Bertolotti, now 82 and as Ernie said he's walking with two canes "a bit broken up in bones and hips". Ernie, a Sacred Heart, Oakland schoolboy started at St. Joseph's College with me in 1942, spending five years and leaving to attend Cal Berkeley and then on to Hawaii in charge of the health program of his alma mater. I told Ernie how happy I was that he was never ordained. Ernie and many others were the lay point guards of Christianity, carrying the Jesus' spirit of their parents and Catholic grade school teachers — the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary — into the world. Ernie and others such as retired Bishop John Cummins had Monsignor Edgar Boyle as pastor of Sacred Heart, a brilliant musician and explosive human priest whom Archbishop Mitty desperately tried to dehumanize in the 1940s. Much to the amusement of young clergy we revelled in the antics and human games Edgar played, adding much spice to life and the church. In the '40s there were a few characters as pastors. Most had slumbered in semi-autism and the building of new churches in the post WW2 era. They thought they were ontologically changed.

As to the pauci electi who were ordained, at least in the greater San Francisco metropolitan bay area a challenge lay hidden undermining the ideals we strove so hard to achieve as innocent seminarians. Those ordained after World War Two were faced with a lonely and subtle choice to be humble servants of the people or to embrace the materialistic power and worldly prestige of that ontologically changed clergyman, a position the people so innocently offered to pedestalled clergy. Junior clergy would have to wait some 20 years before they became pastors. The pecking order for pastorates depended solely on time in priesthood. Three of my first pastors were alcoholics, two pathological schizoids, and the sixth, Father Tom Murray I called a SARGATHERUNE, Irish for Great Priest. Read my 2002 tribute to this fine person HERE.

Later I will post the story of my brilliant classmate Bill Burns who suffered the typical humiliation of being treated like an indentured slave under an aged ignorant San Francisco pastor in the 1950's. I now introduce you to Monsignor Touchdown, classmate Peter G. Armstrong; my long paper which you will find HERE on Peter is explanatory of the subtle temptation and rise to power, the folly of "building" a materialistic structured church, and my anger toward semi-autistic bishops and their wanton discarding of clerical personnel. They wanted and knew only how to deal with perfect men.

Now the promised story of Monsignor Leo Ephraim McFadden (tops in my clerical book) and his humor. Tom McMahon, aka Tmc from the 1940's, knows Leo's private number and phones now and then to check on the General's health. As McF picks up the phone the call goes as follows:

Monsignor Leo Ephriam McFadden — seminarian colleague with Tom McMahon who Tom describes as "tops in my clerical book". Photo supplied by Tom McMahon.

Leo (an 82-year-old cautious): "hello..."

Tmc: "Sir, General that is, this is the Vatican calling, and we are investigating a possible rumor of abuse."

Leo (serious): "yes, go on."

Tmc: "It seems, Reverend Monsignor, that we have word that you and Monsignor Elwood Lavoy (classmate of Sparks, Nevada, all entering seminary in '42) have celebrated your fiftieth anniversary as priests with a Mass in your own private home in Reno..."

McF: "that is correct your excellency..."

Tmc again as impostor Vatican official: "our concern is not your Mass in a private home but did you have under the altar you used the proper relic bones of martyrs as required by canon law since the 12th century?"

A pause ... and then a supposed bumbling as accused responds:

McF: "Sir, excellency, as far as bones were concerned I tripped and fell under the table and we considered my ancient bones as proper coverage."

Tmc: "Leo, how are you?"

McF: "Tmc I am doing well, thank you."

Humor, the surest sign of sanity and being human (hum = earthy in Latin) which has sustained many good seminarians and priests in the midst of religious chaos and spiritual upheaval. In the 1940's we got off to a good start as spiritual brothers in the Little City of God. Being human was part of our family heritage and we certainly did not demand of one another perfection. We survived by being humorous. We knew how to tolerate and forgive. I could demand perfection of self as I prepared for becoming a priest but I would not question or judge another in their personal pursuit of the ideal. A little known Jesus was the ideal. We knew only a Jesus disguised as a wafer host. We never had a course of Jesus of Nazareth in my whole 12 years. We did have Church law and history (their purgative version) for four years with a heavy emphasis on protecting the Eucharistic Jesus from abuse. I strongly admire those who have endured the heat of the "noon day sun" (the temptation to power), men who have held their innocent heads high in the midst of the present chaos.

A young Mel Hary was ordered into the basement of the Cathedral by an old Oakland pastor who suspected burglars. While the pastor held a loaded revolver Mel was almost killed, hit in the face by the flat of a shovel. Months later Mel donned the uniform of a United States Navy Chaplain, spending his next 25 years in military service. While Mel was dying of a brain tumor I would beg him to write his story, particularly his work in rebuilding war-damaged homes/huts while in Vietnam. Mel was stationed with the Sea bees and tapped into that marvelous generous spirit of young Americans who were willing to use "surplus" material for the good of the people.

The far reaches of the original minor seminary property are now the beautiful GATE OF HEAVEN CEMETERY. When we were 1940s' students it was rumored that one of the Mexican gardeners had been buried secretly, "outback" in the rolling pasture lands. In the 1980's the new diocese was denied a permit based on the fact that no one was buried there … and lo, on the contrary the new Diocese of San Jose showed where two were buried and the permit was granted. The Roman Church is the largest owner of cemetery property in California, a huge tax-free business.

Spiritual Envy...

Click the image for more details on this book in the marketplace.

In future commentaries we will return to this setting where God abounded in nature and in my youthful simplicity I thought God was contained in the chapel — in the tabernacle. In major seminary I began to be bothered that God had been captured by the Roman institution. Further on I questioned how a mere human could bring God into a piece of bread and a cup of wine. I was in great struggle as to who is/was God? I found out that it was in 1127 c.e. that the Roman institution stated that only a priest could say Mass. By 1967, aided by Vatican Two I was free in conscience to study the history of God and gods from time immemorial. My ship of faith had cast off its youthful mooring lines and I was drifting into an investigative sea of knowledge. I am far out to sea. Today I am reading with interest Michael Krasny's SPIRITUAL ENVY: an Agnostic's Quest. Michael is brilliant, a Jew in search of the mystery called God, and a KQED/PBS interviewer who has mastered great knowledge.

By 1975 I ceased saying daily Mass and expelled from RC ministry would "break bread" with my community, having experienced like the people of Emmaus the presence of Jesus in those gathered together. The process was slow and we were careful. Big stakes were at hand, my eternal salvation according to Roman law and in contrast the teachings of Jesus. Today I am unable to "say Mass" in the customary priest centered-Roman manner. Remember in my commentary on Eucharist/eucharist how I distinguished between a Roman Eucharist and a Jesus eucharist. (See: Christianus alter Christus! www.catholica.com.au/gc1/tm/011_tm_091107.php). I challenged that Rome had hijacked the original Jesus' meaning of "sharing bread", aka "common-union", for its own monetary purposes as far back as the 11th Century.

I close with caution. Friends and clerical peers read Catholica. Bill, the undersigned is a St. Patrick's Seminary classmate, a Los Angeles man, a Menlo Man of '54, married to Rita with three grown lovely daughters. Image my surprise as I opened my e-mails; I include my response to my good friend.

In your current Aussie Connection photo spread you had the audacity to display the class of 1953, all citizens of Superior California. I demand you display the cultural diversity of the class of 1954 which includes citizens of Inferior California, Europe, and the Territory of Guam, even the State of Utah. Signed, William G. Hutson.

Bill, I am howling with laughter. The 1953 photo ran by mistake, for later use. '54 will come. Hang on. Tom. Hello to Rita.

Tom McMahon, SJC '48, SPS '54, a Menlo Man forever, San Jose, Ca. 11/10/2010

[Index of Commentaries by Tom McMahon]