3/4/2010
An uncommon man
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 | Most Rev. John Vlazny
Archbishop of Portland |
My cousin, John Pobuda of Sun City West, Ariz., died this year on his 89th birthday, Valentine’s Day. Our family Marine was very much like a big brother to me. My first memories of John go back to the days of World War II when he was granted a break from action in the Pacific and enjoyed a leave back home with family and friends. I was still a little tyke but I recall being so impressed with his stature, his uniform and his friendly ways with us kids. He married his bride, Gerry, in San Diego just before the war ended. She was there with him when he died.
John was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago and fought the good fight. When he received notice from the doctors that he had only 30 to 60 days to live, he didn’t wait that long. It was less than two weeks when he went home to the Lord where he was undoubtedly welcomed by a vast assembly of relatives, friends and admirers, not to mention good St. Peter himself. I called John just two days before he died and he sounded great. We talked about the coming baseball season, the chocolate candies he had received in advance of his birthday and the gathering of the clan which was planned for his birthday. He sounded strong and I thought I would have a chance to see him this month for a few days. He has better company than mine for now.
John was typical of many young men and women in that “greatest generation” who fought the good fight and protected our peace and freedom during those trying times of war on both the Pacific and Atlantic fronts. He was a college student at Western Michigan University when the war began. Like many of his peers, he quickly decided to enlist in the military and serve his country as best he could, come weal or come woe. He served in the Pacific and no one knew exactly where. I still remember the day when he and two other Marines had their picture on the back page of the Chicago Tribune. They were holding a fish they had just caught. No one knew where the picture was taken but how excited my family was to know that he was alive and still somewhat photogenic. He never talked much about the war.
John was an uncommon man in many respects. He was steady and reliable. He enjoyed a good beer or two but never drank to excess. He was a smoker but the prodding of his wife and daughters brought that to an end long ago. Most of the time he was even able to maintain his composure while driving with his “backseat driver” wife, who usually sat next to him in the front seat! He was uncommonly generous and hospitable. I recall how gracious he was with his senior relatives, including his own parents and mine. He loved to talk about sports, especially baseball, his family, his students, his Czech heritage and his Catholic faith. Even though I was so many years his junior, once I became a priest, John treated me with a respect and cordiality that no clergyman truly merits. Even when he had questions about life in his own parish or the quirks of his pastors, his criticisms, if any, were always gentle and supportive.
What made John especially uncommon, in my judgment, however, was his strong perseverance in the practice of his faith. His wife, Gerry, was not a Catholic. But they raised their daughters as Catholics. John attended Mass faithfully every Sunday. He typically sat in the “Catholic section” of the church, in those back pews usually filled long before Mass begins. When I celebrated Mass as a priest, of course he moved up front. Such a dear man! He had made his own burial preparations two years before he died, asking that the funeral Mass be celebrated at his parish of Our Lady of Lourdes in Sun City West and that his cousin, yours truly, celebrate the Eucharist and preach. I’m quite confident there was a great jamboree up in heaven where he probably has more friends now than he had on earth. That’s what happens when we live to a ripe old age.
My focus on John as an “uncommon man” stems from his tenacious adherence to the practice of his Catholic faith. We all know now that this is not so common. Parents nowadays struggle with the fact that many of their adult children no longer go to church. A few years ago when I invited some people to send prayer intentions that I might remember during Mass in the month of November, I thought everyone would be listing relatives who had died during the previous year. The most frequent intention recommended to me was for adult children who no longer go to church. This is clearly such a heartache for many today.
Just last month on two different occasions Catholics here in the archdiocese spoke with me about this real concern in their own lives. One man shared how only one of his nine children is now active in the Catholic Church. Another puzzled father was frustrated over the fact that both of his children no longer feel any need for the Eucharist. How did all this happen? What’s the difference? What should the Church do?
It is that last question that perplexes me most. What should I, as archbishop, do? Sometimes when parishioners share this dilemma with me, I sense they are hoping that the church can do an about-face and make herself more attractive to young people today. Should we abandon the sacraments and convert our churches into roller rinks or health clubs? Should we back off from some of the hard teachings of the gospel and tell people how pleased God is when they “do their own thing?” I don’t think so.
Some think that better music, better preaching, better service will bring them back. If it would, they wouldn’t be coming back for the right reason. We have to do what the Lord wants us to do. We have to be faithful to the task, even when we don’t see the success of our efforts. Even though many of us may be unfaithful, God is always faithful. For some reason, mysterious like the gift of faith itself, my cousin John was a faithful Catholic. Sunday Mass was just part of life. Like those early Christians, he understood that he could never truly live in any meaningful way as a man of God without the Eucharist. Recently I met my family and dined with my great-nephews who prefer pizza to filet mignon. They obviously have much to learn. I would say that those who prefer Sunday golf to Sunday Mass also have still a lot to learn about life now and forever.
Pope Benedict XVI, back in his days as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, once had this to say about our friends who no longer seem to need the church: “I have nothing against it if people who all year long never visit a church go there at least on Christmas night or New Year’s Eve or on special occasions, because this is another way of belonging to the blessing of the sacred, to the light.” As a priest, I have always felt much the same. I just hope they feel welcome and will return at least next year.
Eucharistic absence is becoming more common. I take special delight in the uncommon young people of today who, like my cousin John, still choose to feed on God’s word and sacraments. I thank God for the uncommon people like my cousin John who continue to walk with me on the road to glory and will always be there to welcome back those who have strayed.
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