Week 10: Role Models

One of my childhood role models died this week. His name was Father Daniel Mallette. He was the pastor of St. Margaret of Scotland Church on the Southside of Chicago for 35 years. I was lucky enough to be around during some of that time. He was 85 years old and sick, so his passing was not particularly noteworthy. However, his life most certainly was.*

Father Mallette and his dog Tuffy

Catholic New World   

Where I grew up things were Black and White. By this I mean, one side of the railroad tracks was Black and the other side was White. As you may have guessed, I lived on the White side. This geographic situation was created by three major historical events.

1. The Great Migration. Large scale migration of African Americans from the South to the North from 1915-1960s.
2. White Flight. The migration from cities to the suburbs of “White” populations because of the influx of minority populations.  
3. The Chicago Residency Requirement. The 1919 ordinance that all city employees must live within city limits. It was not really enforced until White Flight became a problem.

Racial Cartography

Racial Cartography

Racial Cartography

Because of the Chicago Residency Requirement, White people that worked for the city that wanted to flee, could not. Therefore, they felt compelled to draw some lines in the sand. One of those lines was those railroad tracks. I was just a kid, but you learn quick when growing up in such a contentious environment. There are so many stories but, let me sum it up in a children’s song. Kids love songs. They sing them at the playground. They share them with their friends. Here’s one I remember:

Fight, Fight a Nigger and a White.

Nigger’s got a gun.

Whitey better run.  

If I went home and heard the same thing, my fate as a racist may have been sealed. But I didn’t. I went home to my parents. They didn’t lecture us kids about race. It was what they did that sent a clear message. Every year on Martin Luther King Jr. Day they would pin a poster of MLK Jr. on our door. It was small and I’m not sure a passer by could even see it. But I did. They paid little attention to the line in the sand. They sent me and my sister to summer camp on the other side. They shopped on the other side. Occasionally, we went to church on the other side.

It was at that church I met Father Mallette.

I didn’t know it then, but I needed Father Mallette. I didn’t like racism but it seemed like a fact of life. It seemed like people were just better off living separately. Father Mallette showed me that this was untrue. His church was on the other side of the tracks but he made it very clear that everyone was welcome. At 6pm Mass on Saturdays, he did the unthinkable. I don’t even know how he did it, but he did. White people crossed the tracks to go to his church. We sat in pews right next to Blacks. We prayed together. We said peace. We shook hands and chatted after church. While we sat in those pews, the segregated world around us ceased to exist. That time was sacred to me in so many ways.

Photograph of Father Daniel Mallette of St. Margaret of Scotland Church

with Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. in the West Side in the 1960s. |

Photo courtesy St. Margaret of Scotland, ABC7 Chicago | Sun-Times

He learned from the best.

Apparently that time was sacred to a lot of people. Have you even seen a standing ovation at a funeral? I have. Today. The pews were full. It was standing room only in the back of the church. The world was not Black and White today. It wasn't gray either. It was pure sunshine. Father Mallette was eulogised and while we sat in those pews the segregated world around us ceased to exist again.      

My wife and I were eventually married by Father Mallette. We joined the Peace Corps and we lived for two years as family with the Maroon people (descendants of African slaves) in the jungles of Suriname, South America. Since our marriage, we have tried our best to live a life of diversity and inclusion wherever we go.   

Our wedding in 2001. Father Mallete in the middle.

This is the power of role models. My parents and Father Mallette did small--and sometimes big--things that shaped my life and the lives of so many others. We can do this, too. Of course we aren’t all pastors on the Southside of Chicago. We don’t all live in contentious neighborhoods that force us to pick sides. However, this does not mean we can’t be great role models. One of my favorite MLK Jr. quotes explains this so well:

“Everybody can be great, because everybody can serve.

You don’t have to have a college degree to serve.

You don’t have to have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve.

You don’t have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve.

You don’t have to know Einstein’s “Theory of Relativity” to serve.

You don’t have to know the Second Theory of Thermodynamics in Physics to serve.

You only need a heart full of grace, a soul generated by love.”

When you have a “heart full of grace” and “a soul generated by love” like Father Mallette did, people notice. The next generation is looking to us as role models. It may not seem like it but they’re watching. They don’t need a lecture. They don’t need role models to tell them what to do. They need role models to show them what to do.

So, that’s our homework this week. At work, at school and in our communities let’s have the courage to cross barriers and be counter cultural. What will be our poster that we pin to the door? What imaginary lines are we willing to cross?  

Father Mallette is gone and the next generation is watching. Let’s be the kind of role models that get standing ovations at our funerals.

* If you would like to learn more about Father Mallette here is a Chicago Tribune Article about him.