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	The Gospel of Father Mac By Bella English The Boston Globe September 3, 2006 http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2006/09/03/the_gospel_of_father_mac/ For nearly half a century, the Rev. Bernard McLaughlin has been a priest in the Archdiocese of Boston. Airport passengers knew him as the rapid-tongued priest at Our Lady of the Airways at Logan Airport. Hispanic, Italian, and Asian immigrants knew him from Holy Redeemer in East Boston. The homeless and hungry knew him from Crossroads Shelter, which he founded. Politicians knew him from the state Ethics Commission, for which he was vice chairman. Radio listeners knew him from the talk show he hosted with a rabbi and a black minister. Suburbanites knew him from St. Gerard Majella parish in Canton, where he has presided the past 11 years. State senators have come to know him as their chaplain on Beacon Hill. He is 72 now, and though that may be considered not old for a priest, Father Mac is retiring in September, following a stroke he suffered over the summer. He moves a little more slowly, but his mind is sharp, his opinions and sense of humor even sharper. Of his older brother, he says: "He's an attorney in Washington, God help him. He'll never get into heaven." The first thing Father Mac did when he arrived at St. Gerard's was to post a sign outside the sanctuary: "No matter who you are, no matter what you do, no matter where you're from, no matter where you're going, no matter how good or how bad things may seem, please know that you are always welcome at St. Gerard Majella Parish." The sign went up after a young woman told him she had a baby out of wedlock and had been snubbed by parishioners. The most trying time of Father Mac's priesthood was, of course, the sexual abuse scandal that rocked the archdiocese in 2002. McLaughlin, long an outspoken supporter of a strong laity, welcomed the fledgling lay group, The Voice of the Faithful, which the archdiocese called divisive and banned from many of its buildings. "It's the people's church, what the hell," noted Father Mac, who never missed a meeting. He also called for the resignation of Cardinal Bernard Law, the man he had such high hopes for, the man he greeted at Logan Airport in 1984 while the Harvard Band played in the background. At a time when many priests were still afraid to speak out, he criticized the cardinal's sprawling "palazzo" in Brighton and suggested that Law move into the Paulist Center and be "closer to the people." He disliked what he called the sycophants that Law surrounded himself with and the arrogance of the hierarchy. "That's not the way of Jesus," he said. Most of all, he deftly steered St. Gerard's through the abuse crisis, scheduling listening sessions, polls, and speakers. (Eighty percent said they thought the cardinal should resign.) One of the accused priests had allegedly molested boys who worked in St. Gerard's rectory in the 1980s. It was an anguishing time for all, and Father Mac told parishioners that their opinions were valued, their confusion and horror normal, given the circumstances. "We don't place our faith in cardinals, popes, or priests. We place our faith in God. The people are the church," he said at the time, in what has become his mantra. "Choice" is one of his favorite words. "My theory is that God gave us reason , and he expects us to use it to make choices," he said on a recent day. "God isn't going to say, do this, do that. You decide. You may be dead wrong, but that's your choice." An openly-gay state senator once told Father Mac that he was one of the few people who had not judged him as a sinner. The following Sunday, Father Mac told his flock that "we have no right to judge anyone, period." And when he learned that a priest substituting for him during vacation had roundly offended a couple who came to get married in the church -- because they were living together -- Father Mac called them up, apologized profusely, and ultimately married them. "He," he says of the other priest, "was a disaster." On abortion, Father Mac is naturally not pro-choice. "But I think everyone has the right to choose," he says. He has said that priestly celibacy "has got to go," and that women in the priesthood are inevitable. During the sex abuse crisis, he told people to make up their own minds about whether to give money to the Catholic Church; many did not. But today, St. Gerard's has $1 million in the bank and no debt. There are hundreds of youngsters in the religious education program; 900 recently went to New Orleans, Philadelphia, and Kentucky to perform community service. The music program is vibrant and renowned, and there are many social activist groups that lend helping hands to others. How would Father Mac like to be remembered? "As somebody who cared and loved. I make a big deal out of love. I believe that's why we're born." At St. Gerard's, he is well loved. His first Sunday back after his stroke, his congregation stood up and cheered, as they have every Sunday since. Every day, parishioners bring food ("No more shepherd's pies, please!" he jokes). Two people spend every night in his room to make sure he is all right. Parishioners take turns driving him to medical appointments, just as they did five years ago -- 38 straight days of radiation treatments for prostate cancer at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. On Sept. 17, there will be an appreciation Mass followed by a "time" for him at Lombardo's in Randolph. Longtime parishioner John Hynes says Father Mac is a courageous priest who leads a life of "prayer, community, and resistance," to quote one of his favorite spiritual writers, Henri Nouwen. Hynes is grateful for Father Mac's stewardship -- "all that he has done through prayer, through community-building, and through his resistance to what he saw was wrong with the institution he loves so much -- the church." Amen, to all of that. Columnist Bella English of Milton can be reached at english@globe.com.
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