The information is accurate, of course, but incomplete: At least twice that I can recall, during his long tenure as Associate Pastor, Fr. Eric served as Acting Pastor. Perhaps the title wasn't meant to convey this, but Fr. Eric took it as a mandate: Given the authority to act on behalf of the parish, he acted.
Since learning, last Saturday, of his passing, I've been trying to recollect specifics about when these stints as Acting Pastor took place. One must have been in the mid-90s, when I was on the parish school board, because I remember a board meeting where he fulminated about some proposed change in Archdiocesan policy toward parish schools with which he strongly disagreed. I'm sure he was no less blunt with the people with whom he was speaking at the Archdiocese. I do not believe that he was in any way a diplomat by nature. He was a tireless advocate, though, for the continued independence and prosperity of IC Parish.
Our Parish Center is named for him. It had to be. He willed that structure into being -- with incessant fundraising, and with constant prayer -- his and ours -- whether we liked it or not. He composed a prayer on the subject and saw to it that it was recited by the entire congregation at every Mass for what seemed like forever. But he got the building built.
Fr. Eric was a scholar. Before coming to IC he had worked in a university setting; he had to learn, the hard way, that one can not question grammar school kids at a school Mass in the same way as he might have talked with college students. Think of Jean Luc Picard's awkwardness with children in Star Trek: The Next Generation, change the subject to theology, and increase the awkwardness factor by about tenfold. But he worked at it, and adapated, and got much better over time.
Not everyone appreciated his scholarship. He did sometimes get off on a tangent about the correct translation of this Greek word or that one, or how it was mistranslated into Latin, and later into English. He had such a grasp of Biblical history and culture besides, so much so that, one day, meaning to pay a compliment, I offended him: I said he reminded me of a Jesuit. I got an earful for that one -- about the scholarly traditions of many religious orders, the Passionists not least among these. But, hey, I didn't know any better; I'd gone to Loyola.
Fr. Eric was a well-traveled man, too. He'd walked seemingly every road in the Holy Land at one point or other (and I do mean walked -- he rode a bike, too, but so far as I know he never drove). Whenever he could tie it into the day's Gospel, congregants were likely to get a very detailed explanation, from personal experience, of how the geography in question contributed to the story. Not everyone appreciated the travelogues, either.
I, for one, was no great fan of Fr. Eric's singing, particularly at 7:30 Mass on Sunday morning, when there usually wasn't any musical accompaniment. But Fr. Eric had a good, strong singing voice and he couldn't help himself.
And Fr. Eric was a devoted Cub fan. This was a serious matter for me and my family. It's tough to be alienated from one's pastor on such a fundamental issue. But we came to a grudging, mutual understanding. In time, we came to understand that Fr. Eric grew up in practically the shadow of Wrigley Field, in St. Ita's Parish, and therefore could not help himself. And Fr. Eric became a little more tolerant, too: One Mother's Day, when my wife wore her Sox cap to church, Fr. Eric offered a special blessing to all the mothers present -- even the Sox fans.
Still, there were lines that could not be crossed: One Spring Sunday many years ago my wife and I were helping to host a Welcome Coffee in the Rectory Assembly. I don't remember whether it was for the School Board, or Parents Club, or the Sunday Pre-School. It was one of the days when it was our turn to help host. I do remember that the kids were still little -- still playing baseball in the house league at Oriole Park. And they'd just gotten their jerseys for the season and they were wearing them with pride -- until Fr. Eric caught sight of them.
"How could you allow your children to go out in public dressed like that?" he demanded.
Well... they were wearing Cardinals jerseys.
Some years ago I had occasion to interview a pastor who was one of the key architects of the "Soul Slate" -- a slate of Black judicial candidates -- I was looking for the story earlier today and of course I couldn't find it in my archives. Maybe it never got written. But I remember the interview because the pastor said that he had the same question for every candidate seeking his endorsement: "Where is your Church Home?"
And the pastor told me of one woman who'd come before his group and, in response to that question, named a church in Detroit, where the candidate had grown up. It was a very good church, the pastor conceded, a very prominent church, but he wanted to know where was her Church Home now. After all, he told me, she hasn't lived in Detroit for a good many years.
It got me thinking about how I would have answered the pastor's question about my Church Home. And the answer, then and now, would be Immaculate Conception Parish. Fr. Eric is not the only priest at that parish with whom I've enjoyed cordial relations; I have been on friendly terms with many of the priests who have served the parish over the years. And all of these have helped make IC my Church Home -- but, for me, Fr. Eric stands above.
Fr. Eric was a tireless advocate for our parish throughout his long tenure, without regard to whether his stance made friends Downtown or with his confreres among the Passionists. And I have no doubt that he will continue to be a tireless advocate on behalf of the parish in his new, eternal assignment. We were blessed to have him; we are blessed to have him still.
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