JESUS CARITAS

Year for Priests:
St. John Neumann,

Part One: Beloved ‘little bishop’ of Philadelphia

By Bishop Thomas J. Olmsted | Nov. 19, 2009 | The Catholic Sun 

Editor’s note: This is the first part in a series of columns in celebration of the holy Year for Priests.

When Fr. John Neumann got wind that he might be named a bishop, he sat down and wrote an urgent note to the School Sisters of Notre Dame, with whom he closely collaborated as a pastor in the city of Baltimore. He insisted that they begin a novena at once (nine consecutive days of intercessory prayer) for the mysterious intention of “removing a terrible danger that threatens one of our largest dioceses.” He also sent off a frantic letter to Rome, urging the Pope not to name him to the office of bishop. But, despite all his varied efforts and fervent prayers, the Holy Father, aware of John Neumann’s feelings of unworthiness but convinced that he was the right man to serve as the next bishop of Philadelphia, commanded him “under obedience to accept the post.” As a loyal son of the Church, still full of trepidation but placing all his confidence in our Redeemer, Fr. Neumann accepted the appointment of the Successor of St. Peter and became the fourth bishop of Philadelphia in 1852.

Anti-immigrant prejudice

The misgivings of John Neumann arose from his own humble sense of unworthiness, which was a constant characteristic of his personality. But they also were based on his harsh experience of frequently being dismissed as a “foreigner,” disregarded for his short physical stature, and ridiculed for not speaking English without an accent. These harsh criticisms came from all sectors of American society, which in the mid-1800s was broiling with strife among various immigrant groups and teeming with harsh rhetoric from Nativist associations.

Even within Church circles, his immense talents and his genuine holiness were not generally appreciated. While it is true that he spoke English with a slight accent, it is also true that he was fluent in German, Czech, Italian, French, Latin, Greek and English. He even taught himself Gaelic so that he could hear confessions of recently arrived immigrants from Ireland.

He was well read in diverse fields such as physics, medicine and astronomy, not to mention philosophy, theology and spirituality, which he studied in depth in the seminary and continued to study thereafter. Objectively speaking, the new bishop was highly qualified to assume pastoral responsibility for the Diocese of Philadelphia. But Philadelphia, especially the elite of the city, was not ready for him.

Some of the strongest objections to the new bishop came from Catholics in Philadelphia. Their objections are understandable, even if not admirable. Their previous three bishops had all been Irish, and it seemed that they had just begun to make some inroads against the anti-Irish and anti-Catholic sentiments of the day. Moreover, anti-Catholic sentiments were especially prevalent among the cultural elites of the city where the nation had been born and the Declaration of Independence had been written. Catholic laity and clergy feared that Bishop Neumann, who was so evidently not born in America and who, in their eyes, lacked societal charm, would never be able to win the respect of non-Catholics. They envisioned riots again breaking out in their neighborhoods, and the renewal of harsh anti-Catholic rhetoric.

Holiness, not comfort

On the evening of his priestly ordination, Fr. Neumann had written in his personal journal a simple prayer to the Lord, “Give me holiness.” That prayer remained, throughout his life, his motto, his goal and his way of deepening communion with Christ. Experience taught him that seeking holiness was the opposite of seeking personal comfort and of doing his own will. It is not surprising, then, that he chose as his bishop’s motto, “Passion of Christ, comfort me.”

On the eve of his being ordained a bishop, a friend asked him how he felt. He candidly replied, “I would rather die tomorrow than be consecrated a bishop!” Nonetheless, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the pastoral ministry of his new diocese. With the same zeal that he had shown as a priest, he began his episcopal ministry without fear and with firm determination to love and serve the Lord with all his mind and heart. God had called; he would respond. He put into practice the motto of the little town of Prachatitz where he was born in Czechoslovakia, “We praise old times but we live in our own.”

In his eight years as bishop of Philadelphia, the accomplishments of Bishop Neumann were outstanding. He began new parishes at a rate of one every month, and at the majority of these, parish schools also were established. He founded a new community of Religious, the Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia, and he brought many priests, Sisters and Brothers from other religious communities to serve in his fast-growing diocese. He constantly traveled throughout the city and rural areas, celebrating the sacraments with the people, visiting the sick and the imprisoned, and offering encouragement to his priests. He never wanted to be a bishop, but once ordained he embraced his new flock with wholehearted love and devotion.

The beloved ‘Little Bishop’ — a little inferior?

Although he never succeeded in winning the hearts of the movers and shakers of Philadelphia, he clearly won the hearts of ordinary people, who called him with affection “our little bishop.” They knew that he loved them; they saw how he made every effort to be with them, not only in the many diverse parishes of the large city but also in the farming regions, coal mining camps and small villages of Pennsylvania. They saw how his cassock was patched and often soiled with mud from his frequent trips on country roads and across swollen rivers — something which evoked ridicule in Philadelphia but admiration among the blue-collar workers, recent immigrants, the poor and their families.

The priests of the diocese, although initially hesitant to embrace their new shepherd and his novel pastoral initiatives, grew to appreciate his authentic charity and especially his genuine humility. Due to his slightly awkward manner in formal settings, however, he failed to impress distinguished visitors to Philadelphia. After the Papal Nuncio to Brazil was hosted by Bishop Neumann, the Nuncio wrote to superiors in Rome, “The Bishop of Philadelphia seems a little inferior for the importance of such a distinguished city, not in learning nor in zeal nor in piety but because of the littleness of his person and his neglect of the fashions… but the populous city of Philadelphia — rich, intelligent, full of life and importance — surely merits a bishop of another type.”

No one would have agreed more with the Nuncio than the “little bishop” himself. Twice, he recommended that a “more worthy” bishop be chosen for Philadelphia and that he be transferred to a smaller diocese made up of miners and farmers and other ordinary people among whom he felt so at home. In fact, he once wrote to Archbishop James Patrick Kenrick in Baltimore, “With the best will to do things like others, and to make myself amiable, I make every time more blunders and say more nonsense…”

It was true, Bishop Neumann did belong to the “lower classes,” not because he failed to reach out to all or failed to serve the well-to-do but because many of these did not open their hearts to him. They were embarrassed by his plain appearance, his insignificant size, his lack of sophistication and social polish. But to those who went to confession to him in any of 8 languages, to the children who delighted in his fascinating catechesis, to the beggars who always received something as he passed by, and to many more of the “little ones” of the Gospel, he was their spiritual father; he was their “little bishop.” They returned his love for them with gratitude and affection.

In the next edition, we shall look at more concrete ways that St. John Neumann served Christ with zeal, including his commitment to Catholic education and his deep devotion to the Holy Eucharist.