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The People's Priest Who Became a Bishop After 12 Years, Michael Saltarelli Contemplates Life after Wilmington Diocese By Gary Soulsman The News Journal January 27, 2008 http://www.delawareonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080127/NEWS/801270387/1006/NEWS He doesn't know when he'll get a call saying that it's time to step aside as shepherd of the largest faith on the Delmarva Peninsula. It might be at 7:30 a.m. on a Monday as Bishop Michael Saltarelli arrives at his gray-walled office west of Wilmington's Trolley Square to get a start on the day, opening mail before the phones ring. It might be one evening two years from now as he tucks into a take-out Boston Market dinner in the aging, no-frills brick bishop's manse on Bancroft Parkway. After turning 75 on Jan. 17, Saltarelli must retire, according to Roman Catholic Church rules. He will leave office when Pope Benedict XVI names a new bishop to the Diocese of Wilmington. The process has begun. Whenever the end comes, Saltarelli said, he is ready to step aside after 12 years. He will miss the direct contact with people and parishioners. He will not miss the paperwork that punctuates his daily life as administrator of a $50 million budget.
"Believe me, no one becomes a priest because they want to balance a budget," Saltarelli said Wednesday in an interview that ranged over talk of his tenure, the coming election and pop-culture messages the faithful face. He will leave behind a diocese that has increased by 64,000 people in 10 years, added three new schools and several new churches in fast-growing suburbs, expanded its Hispanic ministry, and ordained 23 priests. The diocese also has been buffeted by the priest sexual-abuse scandals, and forced to close three schools where attendance declined. And yet, others say he will be leaving a grateful clergy and a re-energized laity of 230,000 Catholics in Delaware and the Eastern Shore of Maryland in a positive and grateful mood. "He's given the kind of leadership all dioceses need," said Tom Holmes, a member of St. Margaret of Scotland in Glasgow, one of the new suburban churches.
"My strength," Saltarelli said, "is that I love being with people." New Jersey roots, world vision A trim, smallish man, he wears a black clerical outfit and a silver chain pulled diagonally across his chest. At the end of the chain is a cross tucked into a pocket to keep it from dangling as he talks with his hands. Mostly bald, he has a strong Roman profile and a throaty Jersey City accent that's not as broad as the cast of "The Sopranos," but still there. He's quick-witted, thoughtful in replies, and every so often shows a flash of impatience. The bishop, says a close friend, has a strong personality that's softened by prayer. Saltarelli often visits the parishes as part of his mission to teach, sanctify and govern, driving himself. He enjoys the trees and fields he didn't see as a child growing up amid the tenements and "hot-tar streets" of Jersey City. He jokes that people should "talk to my car," a gray Mercury Grand Marquis, if they don't think he gets around. Even with all the church and clergy bashing he has faced, "I never regret becoming a priest," Saltarelli said. In his Jersey City childhood, the church was a haven and teen hangout. One of seven children from a working-class family, Saltarelli said his mother and father had a deep faith. They attended weekly Mass, saved to send the kids to Catholic school and kept a crucifix and holy water next to statues of St. Theresa, St. Joseph and the Virgin Mary. At 19, he knew he wanted to be a parish priest and also knew he didn't have to be perfect -- only willing to do his best. Assigned to a Nutley, N.J., parish, he stayed for 17 years, honing his gifts as a parish priest. It's in his pastoral role that he still worries about the messages the faithful are bombarded with by pop culture and the decisions they face in the next election. Saltarelli was on his way back from Washington, D.C., and the March For Life when he was asked about the death last week of actor Heath Ledger, who was found dead in a New York apartment surrounded by prescription drugs. It's sad, Saltarelli said, that the world promises so much, but people resort to drugs and pills to deaden what's supposed to feel like success. Flash and glitter catches people's eyes, but often there's no substance there, he said. And he still agrees with a statement he made in a 1998 News Journal interview: "My concern is this: Is the Gospel being practiced? Are we tending to the needs of the poor, the lonely, the outcast, the needy?" The nation faces another test of that this year when it elects a new president. Saltarelli, who prefers to pray for a politician who votes for abortion rather than judge the person's conscience, has not yet found a presidential candidate he likes. "I have a concern for life issues, not because it's the Catholic thing, but because it's the natural thing," he said. "Life is precious." But he also says religion can't be the only thing you ask a candidate about. "How he lives his life is more important," Saltarelli said. A 'real-world' bishop "He's a priest's priest, a very spiritual man," said Pat Bossi, Saltarelli's personal secretary. And Saltarelli is most pleased with having ordained 23 priests, though he wishes it could have been 123. "I so admire them," he said. In spite of America's secular culture and the abuse crisis, they are saying yes to the church. "Their courage amazes me, inspires me and humbles me," he said. "Our seminarians are the heroes of the day." Saltarelli also knows they will be challenged. "I think the Lord tests your yes every day," Saltarelli said. "It's not a yes and you're done." Dan Barr of Greenville, who serves on the National Advisory Council for the U.S. Conference of Bishops, says the bishop is a holy man of integrity who's admired by colleagues. "He's not driven by ambition," Barr said. "He's regarded as a real-world, in-touch bishop. He likes to visit parishes and could never be accused of being an ivory tower guy." And in conversations, the Rev. John Hynes of St. Catherine of Siena said, he has felt invited to speak his mind. "I felt his willingness to listen and he's told me he values a guy's honest opinion," Hynes said. People often comment on Saltarelli's sense of humor, saying that his quips lighten conservation. He recently observed that he guards his pockets when he meets Wilmington fundraiser extraordinaire Brother Ronald Giannone, who raises $10 million annually for the poor. "Brother Ronald is pickpocketing everybody," quipped Saltarelli with the touch of a smile. "God bless Brother Ronald." But Saltarelli also says he has to be careful of teasing because it can come off as needling. More sex-abuse issues lie ahead Not everyone is thrilled with Saltarelli and his decisions, especially as it relates to the priest abuse scandal or the closing of schools. At times, his "fan mail" has been angry and harsh. "I understand -- these are places where people have placed their hearts and souls," Saltarelli said. But he also drew praise last week for the way the diocese settled a priest abuse lawsuit. The diocese paid a $450,000 settlement to Navy Cmdr. Kenneth J. Whitwell. He had sued the diocese, Archmere Academy, the Norbertine religious order and its priest, the Rev. Edward Smith, alleging that Whitwell was the victim of almost three years of rape by Smith while he was working at Archmere in Claymont in the 1980s. The diocese expressed sorrow for the abuse and apologized. "The experiences are very, very painful for the victims," Saltarelli said. "I condemn what's been done to victims with all my heart." While some say he has not apologized enough, Thomas S. Neuberger, Whitwell's attorney, said, "I'm optimistic to see the bishop taking a different approach from most of the dioceses across the country, where they proceed with a scorched-earth policy when victims seek redress." Saltarelli said a hard-line policy does not help victims heal. "Our whole posture is not to subject someone who has been hurt so badly to a lengthy trial," he said. "We want to exercise all of the compassion and reconciliation that's possible." He said he hopes people will see that, as a church family, "We're not on different sides, but that we're on the same side." In the months ahead, the bishop will need the traits that supporters say he has -- a mix of empathy, humor, decisiveness, real-world savvy and a grounding in faith -- to face what Neuberger says will be 20 more sex-abuse suits. Saltarelli hopes they can be settled through mediation. He expects the diocese to be dealing with the issue for the next 10 years. And not all monetary awards will be covered by insurance, he said. Some money will have to come from the diocese's general fund, taking away from charity, education and other assistance. "We're going to feel the strain of this in the next couple of years," he said. The next bishop, he says, will have to deal with most of that, as well as changing demographics and fewer men going into the priesthood. But Saltarelli has a suggestion for his successor. "I would recommend he be at least familiar with the Spanish language," he said. "I do my best with it, and it's helpful." The unknown future When he seeks inspiration, Saltarelli often walks down to the basement of the bishop's residence, where there is a chapel. He rests in a comfy chair surrounded by the stations of the cross. The Scriptures are nearby. At the chapel's opposite end are a tabernacle and statues of three saints. Saltarelli comes here for prayer and, for him, prayer is real. "Even in the darkest days, and there have been dark days, what you feel is the people who are praying for you," he said. "They sustain you." Saltarelli doesn't know exactly what he will do upon retirement, except that he will stay in the diocese. He'll lend a hand where needed, probably with confirmations. He has been invited to live in many rectories, but he doesn't want to impose. He's considering a renovated suite in what was once a convent at St. John the Beloved on Milltown Road, where other priests live. While he has been praised for the churches and schools that have been built under his watch, he doesn't believe in monuments. "When you die, the Lord wants to know were you good, were you kind, were you compassionate," he said, "not whether you were a bishop." Contact Gary Soulsman at 324-2893 or gsoulsman@delawareonline.com. |
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