Call me a religion junkie if you will. Maybe that’s why I have taken such intense interest in the recently published memoir of an archbishop.

Still, the life story of Rembert Weakland, A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church, may hold fascination for others too. It offers a detailed portrait of a man who has been monk, prelate, scholar, musician, and, ultimately, penitent.

The book also reveals from the inside the tortuous ways that Vatican officials adopt in dealing with those dependent on their favor.

Weakland grew up during the Depression in the small Pennsylvania town of  Patton, in the coal-mining region of Appalachia. As one of six children of an impoverished widow, he wore cardboard in his shoes when the soles wore out.

At age 13, he went as a lay student to the Benedictine monastery in Latrobe, some sixty miles away. Later he would become a monk there, and at age 36 its abbot.

After only four years in that position, Weakland was summoned to Rome because he had been elected abbot primate, or worldwide leader, of the Benedictine order.

This religious community, founded by Saint Benedict, traces its origin back to the sixth century. In addition to its rich cultural heritage, it provides a model of how authority can be used. Whenever important decisions are to be made, the abbots are required by rule not to act alone, but first to consult members of their community.

This latter feature of Benedictine life was to have a strong impact on Rembert Weakland. He held to this use of authority throughout his career, even in the face of Vatican officials who operated differently.

In his years as chief abbot, Weakland visited some 600 abbeys and other Benedictine foundations on all the continents of the world. Through these visits he provided spiritual support for monks and nuns of many different cultures, and was in turn supported by them.

Weakland championed the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) and the liberalization that it brought to the church. However, he found himself up against strong forces that rolled back some of the council’s changes.

This council, a gathering of some 2,500 Catholic bishops from around the world, had a profound impact upon my own life. By modernizing the church and redefining its place in the world, the council transformed my way of being religious, and that of countless other Catholics.

Unfortunately, as Weakland’s career shows, that dynamic move toward progress has been stymied, in large part, by the policies of succeeding popes and the Vatican bureaucracy by which they rule.

In his years as abbot primate, Weakland developed a close relationship with Pope Paul VI. He came to admire this pope’s sensitivity in dealing with others. However, he also regretted Paul’s concessions to conservative cardinals opposed to church reform.

Toward the end of his papacy, Paul VI appointed Rembert Weakland the Archbishop of Milwaukee. For 25 arduous years, he directed the archdiocese.

During all of this time, except for the first year, John Paul II was pope.

Weakland’s appraisal of the Polish pope strikes me as one of the most significant features of the memoir. “In my opinion,” he writes, “the negative aspects of his pontificate outweigh the positive.”

While acknowledging the breakthrough achievements of John Paul II, Weakland regrets the way he used authority. Of this pope he says: “Allegiance to his person and teaching on all levels became synonymous to many with what it meant to be Catholic.”

This centralizing of authority in the church became evident in the fate of local bishops. Structures designed for the sharing of authority ─ synods and national organizations of bishops ─ lost much of their significance during John Paul’s papacy.

Even on the personal level, Weakland as archbishop found John Paul difficult to deal with. The pope showed himself reluctant to converse with him, even to discuss such pressing issues as the shortage of clergy.

Routinely, when the archbishop went to Rome on church business, a Vatican cardinal would summon him to answer various complaints. These complaints would often come from various people in Milwaukee displeased with their archbishop’s leadership.

It did not help his cause as reformer that Weakland retired under a cloud. Shortly before the end of his tenure as archbishop, it emerged that he had, almost two decades previously, engaged briefly in a sexual relationship with an adult male.

And, under threat from this man to sue him, Weakland authorized the expenditure of $450,000 from the archdiocesan building fund to block the lawsuit.

Ashamed of what he had done, and devastated by the disappointment he had caused others, Weakland found redemption in the support of many people. In a liturgical service in his cathedral, the archbishop sorrowfully admitted what he had done wrong and asked his people to forgive him.

As Margaret O’Brien Steinfels writes in a foreward: “The end of an ecclesiastical career turns out to have been the beginning a new spiritual journey.”

Call me a religion junkie if you will. Maybe that’s why I have taken such intense interest in the recently published memoir of an archbishop.

Still, the life story of Rembert Weakland, A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church, may hold fascination for others too. It offers a detailed portrait of a man who has been monk, prelate, scholar, musician, and, ultimately, penitent.

The book also reveals from the inside the tortuous ways that Vatican officials adopt in dealing with those dependent on their favor.

Weakland grew up during the Depression in the small Pennsylvania town of  Patton, in the coal-mining region of Appalachia. As one of six children of an impoverished widow, he wore cardboard in his shoes when the soles wore out.

At age 13, he went as a lay student to the Benedictine monastery in Latrobe, some sixty miles away. Later he would become a monk there, and at age 36 its abbot.

After only four years in that position, Weakland was summoned to Rome because he had been elected abbot primate, or worldwide leader, of the Benedictine order.

This religious community, founded by Saint Benedict, traces its origin back to the sixth century. In addition to its rich cultural heritage, it provides a model of how authority can be used. Whenever important decisions are to be made, the abbots are required by rule not to act alone, but first to consult members of their community.

This latter feature of Benedictine life was to have a strong impact on Rembert Weakland. He held to this use of authority throughout his career, even in the face of Vatican officials who operated differently.

In his years as chief abbot, Weakland visited some 600 abbeys and other Benedictine foundations on all the continents of the world. Through these visits he provided spiritual support for monks and nuns of many different cultures, and was in turn supported by them.

Weakland championed the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) and the liberalization that it brought to the church. However, he found himself up against strong forces that rolled back some of the council’s changes.

This council, a gathering of some 2,500 Catholic bishops from around the world, had a profound impact upon my own life. By modernizing the church and redefining its place in the world, the council transformed my way of being religious, and that of countless other Catholics.

Unfortunately, as Weakland’s career shows, that dynamic move toward progress has been stymied, in large part, by the policies of succeeding popes and the Vatican bureaucracy by which they rule.

In his years as abbot primate, Weakland developed a close relationship with Pope Paul VI. He came to admire this pope’s sensitivity in dealing with others. However, he also regretted Paul’s concessions to conservative cardinals opposed to church reform.

Toward the end of his papacy, Paul VI appointed Rembert Weakland the Archbishop of Milwaukee. For 25 arduous years, he directed the archdiocese.
During all of this time, except for the first year, John Paul II was pope.
Weakland’s appraisal of the Polish pope strikes me as one of the most significant features of the memoir. “In my opinion,” he writes, “the negative aspects of his pontificate outweigh the positive.”

While acknowledging the breakthrough achievements of John Paul II, Weakland regrets the way he used authority. Of this pope he says: “Allegiance to his person and teaching on all levels became synonymous to many with what it meant to be Catholic.”

This centralizing of authority in the church became evident in the fate of local bishops. Structures designed for the sharing of authority ─ synods and national organizations of bishops ─ lost much of their significance during John Paul’s papacy.

Even on the personal level, Weakland as archbishop found John Paul difficult to deal with. The pope showed himself reluctant to converse with him, even to discuss such pressing issues as the shortage of clergy.

Routinely, when the archbishop went to Rome on church business, a Vatican cardinal would summon him to answer various complaints. These complaints would often come from various people in Milwaukee displeased with their archbishop’s leadership.

It did not help his cause as reformer that Weakland retired under a cloud. Shortly before the end of his tenure as archbishop, it emerged that he had, almost two decades previously, engaged briefly in a sexual relationship with an adult male.

And, under threat from this man to sue him, Weakland authorized the expenditure of $450,000 from the archdiocesan building fund to block the lawsuit.

Ashamed of what he had done, and devastated by the disappointment he had caused others, Weakland found redemption in the support of many people. In a liturgical service in his cathedral, the archbishop sorrowfully admitted what he had done wrong and asked his people to forgive him.

As Margaret O’Brien Steinfels writes in a foreward: “The end of an ecclesiastical career turns out to have been the beginning a new spiritual journey.”