Appreciation Intimate life with God is our destiny, Fr.
Diekmann told us
By PATRICK MARRIN
Benedictine Fr. Godfrey Diekmann died Feb. 22 at age 93, in the
health care wing of St. Johns Abbey at Collegeville, Minn. His life
encompassed over 75 years of vowed religious life, a six-decade teaching and
publishing career, a priesthood that began in 1933 in the fixed world of Trent
and ended in the still-expanding universe of the post-Vatican II church he
helped create.
Several hundred friends, perhaps representing the tens of
thousands of clergy, religious and laity who had crowded into Diekmanns
lectures, summer school classes and retreats in the years following the council
(1962-1965), came to St. Johns to join his monastic brothers in saying
goodbye to the tall, white-haired monk.
Coming full circle from his birth in 1908 in tiny Roscoe, Minn.,
to his burial just up the road in the abbey cemetery, Diekmann had tried to
witness to another, less visible but far more significant journey, from baptism
to the spiritual maturity he believed was the joyful purpose of every Christian
life.
In active retirement since the early 1990s, Diekmann had honed his
own story into a kind of mantra that became familiar to anyone who knew him,
encapsulating what for Diekmann was the essence of the Christian life and
which, he often lamented, was still the best kept secret of the church: that at
the heart of the gospel is the amazing truth that, by virtue of baptism, the
Christian is destined to share in Gods own divine nature.
In 1926, when he was an 18-year old novice in the abbey community,
Diekmann was exposed for the first time to the potent Pauline image of the
church as the body of Christ:
It was a complete revelation to me, and I might say that I
suffered a conversion -- something that simply grips you and influences your
whole life, he said.
Diekmanns conversion mirrored a growing consciousness
flowing from the revival of biblical and patristic scholarship at the beginning
of the 20th century, which deeply informed the liturgical movement, first in
Europe and then in the United States from the 1920s through the 1950s,
surfacing in key official church statements about the nature of the church and
culminating in Pope John XXIIIs surprise call for a worldwide gathering
in Rome of the churchs 2,500 bishops.
The council marked a dramatic -- Diekmann would say miraculous --
shift in ecclesiology, in the churchs understanding of itself, after
centuries of entrenchment as a kind of highly centralized and clericalized
institutional monarchy to a recovery of the more egalitarian and charismatic
model of community evident in the New Testament and in the writings of the
early church.
Diekmann was one of two Americans who served on the 55-member
commission that, in the time leading up to the council, prepared the document
on the liturgy. Atlanta Archbishop Paul Hallinan took Diekmann to the council
as his personal theologian.
As exhilarating as was the structural reform the council promised,
the real intent of the council, in Diekmanns eyes, was the more
fundamental recovery of pure spiritual energy and apostolic zeal in restoring
the idea of the body of Christ and that every baptized Christian (and
implicitly every human being) has direct access to the divine life revealed in
the incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
He became human that we might become divine, Diekmann
never tired of saying. We are, in some barely conceivable but actual way, true
sons and daughters of God, he insisted. The dignity bestowed by that outpouring
of divine love, together with every charism necessary to the redemptive mission
of the church, was the assumption underlying the councils mandate that
collegiality replace authoritarian attitudes and practice at every level of
church life. To obstruct or delay this reform could only be, in Diekmanns
words, a sin against the Holy Spirit.
The council for Diekmann was the Magna Carta of the
laity, the long-awaited recovery of their proper place at the Lords Table
in the churchs worship and real acknowledgement of their indispensable
role in extending the transforming power of the Word and Eucharist. In his
view, an unprecedented but inspired transfer of responsibility to the laity was
meant to free those in orders, including bishops, from their historical
captivity to power and privilege to find the servant leadership roles Jesus
explicitly assigned to them in the gospels.
It was no surprise to many of the seasoned clergy and sisters who
filed past Godfrey Diekmanns casket, many of them stopping to touch him,
that the church they had hoped might spring from such a renewal is still not
here almost 40 years after the close of Vatican II.
Diekmann, who learned patience as he postponed heaven one health
crisis after another into his 90s, knew from church history that change would
be difficult and slow. While he never hesitated to roar out of semi-retirement
to answer those claiming that the council had never intended radical change,
his focus shifted to preparing himself to meet face to face the mysterious God
he had tried to share with others. As for the state of the church he had been
faithful to all his life, he said over and over, I believe in the Holy
Spirit.
He made deals with others of his generation (including my father,
a high school classmate at St. Johns in the 1920s, then at an area
nursing home) that whoever died first would help the others home. His mantra
never changed: We are sons and daughters of God, destined for intimate
life with God.
The committal ceremony at the end of every monastic funeral has a
stark beauty. There is the open grave, the lowering of the casket as the reader
proclaims one of the last parables Jesus told in John 12:24, days before his
own death: In truth, in very truth, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat
falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears a
rich harvest.
Godfrey Diekmann knows things now he would have loved to share
with us in life. In death, his counsel, as always, is to hold fast to hope.
Patrick Marrin is editor of Celebration, NCRs
sister publication on liturgy.
National Catholic Reporter, March 15,
2002
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