'Punctuality is the politeness of kings'

by Susan Northway

Director of Religious Education

Diocese of Salt Lake City

SALT LAKE CITY — I remember the day I first heard this quotation. I was sitting in a meeting of the Diocesan Liturgical Commission with members who were chatting for a few minutes before the official business began. Uncharacteristically, Bishop Niederauer was late. After waiting a few minutes, the presider proceeded without him. He arrived shortly then quipped, "Hmm. Punctuality is the politeness of kings." The words stuck with me. In recent times especially, I have reflected upon them deeply.

Punctuality is a habit that this excellent leader surely cherishes. To be considerate of others in matters of time is a kingly virtue. Through baptism, Christ calls each of us to explore the role of king, as well as priest and prophet. On that particular day, Bishop Niederauer complimented and acknowledged the work ethic of the liturgical commission. His literary allusion focused on our role as kingly people and he gently, but publicly chided himself. He used humor, but his message was clear: When you arrive on time, you honor the people of God. This is one small example of his diplomatic and respectful style of servant- leadership.

An authentic servant-leader is never too busy to field questions. One time I escorted a group of high school students on a tour of the Cathedral and Pastoral Center. Their field trip included a short visit with the Bishop for a question and answer session. A particularly self-confident teen queried him; "Do you always wear that special priest-outfit in public?" I cringed but the bishop’s affirmative answer revealed much about his concept of priestly service.

It seems that years ago, while in New York for a meeting, the bishop stopped to pick up some new titles from a favorite bookseller. Anxious to peruse the purchases and dressed in his clerics, he settled into a seat on the subway. An older lady suddenly began staring expectantly at him. She whimpered, then wailed loudly, all the while staring piteously at him. Somewhat reluctant to leave the delights of his new books, the bishop nevertheless moved over to her seat and inquired about the cause of her distress.

The woman poured out a lengthy, convoluted tale about her family. They rode the subway up and down the city. The narrative ended with a shocking revelation: she was a Jew. Why had she selected a Catholic priest to receive this tale of agony? Because of the way he was dressed, she calculated that he would listen to her. Perhaps no one else dared to do so. His clerical garb had cued, then affirmed her choice of a confidante. Here, she must have thought, was someone safe and someone who would not reject the messiness of her grief.

Like other stories I have heard the bishop tell in his simple, straightforward style, this tale is a modern parable. It has a surprise ending, deep layers of meaning, and it connects directly to teachings about the Kingdom of God. It reveals much about his vision

of priesthood.

Like any effective teacher, the bishop knows that lecture alone, delivered without connections to life falls on the listener as deadly dull and is quickly forgotten. His habit of storytelling illuminates his ministry as prophet. He knows that with too much preaching, students yawn and let their minds wander. But when they hear, "Let me tell you a story," suddenly the fog disperses and they learn forward, ready to imagine a new world. At morning Mass with the bishop in the pastoral center chapel, I often hear homilies that feed my soul. His stories weave the threads of my work into the Word of God, thereby bolstering the entire day.

I am so grateful for the gifts of the bishop’s leadership. I bless his mother for loving him well and his father for showing him how to behave like a gentleman. It is not difficult to say goodbye because I know that wherever he goes, this extraordinary man will lead his flock as king, priest,

and prophet.