Bishop Emeritus William Dendinger

Bishop Emeritus William
Joseph Dendinger

Bishop Dendinger's coming for lunch, and I'm a tad nervous.

"Why?" my husband is genuinely surprised. "Bishop D's the nicest guy in the world!"

True. Still, he's a Bishop. He's a Bishop, and we're feeding him meatball soup. My husband John's meatball soup is my favorite. But should we not be serving something grander? Maybe that Wagyu Beef I saw on the Cooking Channel?

It's too late. The doorbell rings, and Bishop D, as everybody calls him, enters our house sporting a baseball cap and sweat pants. I've never seen him in anything but his priestly garb. Instantly, my nerves vanish. This wonderful man is, after all, our own Bishop D. He's looking forward to soup, a little wine, and some easy conversation.

At Central Catholic where John and I taught for a hundred years, Bishop Emeritus William Dendinger was always a familiar face. He's still there saying Mass, hearing confessions, and occasionally even teaching senior religion. In the hallways he cordially greets teachers and students. One day a few years ago he pops into my classroom.

Air Force military chaplain

"I see your students are reading Catcher in the Rye," he says. "Would you mind if I borrow a copy?" 

Whether he's borrowing a book, teaching the seniors or taking in a Crusader basketball game, Bishop D is part of our GICC culture, and we all like him very much.

Sometimes when he's preaching at Thursday morning Mass in his rich, sonorous voice, he'll captivate us with stories from his life as an Air Force military chaplain. Those stories are usually about the inspiring people or brave soldiers he's counseled. Rarely does he talk about himself. You really have to research the guy to discover that not only was he a military chaplain but that he also retired as a two star general.

He shows me a photo of President Bill Clinton shaking his hand.

"That was taken when I was at the Pentagon." 

Bishop D says "the Pentagon" so casually it might as well be the paper towel aisle at Super Saver.

With President Bill Clinton

My jaw drops. 

Bishop D - two star general

In D.C., he was named Chief of the Chaplain Core and received numerous honors and awards for his service in the military. During the Viet Nam War when he was stationed in Tokyo, he was sent to serve in Laos, Cambodia, Viet Nam and Korea.

It was only when he retired as a two star general that he came back to Nebraska to receive his first posting as pastor of St. Stephen the Martyr Catholic Church in Omaha and began his civilian life in the priesthood. But when the Vatican finds out you're a two star general, you'd better be prepared to move up the ladder. The office of Bishop was definitely in Father Dendinger's future.

He displays other photos taken in Rome - one with Pope John Paul ll, and another with Pope Benedict.

Even though he'd never, ever say it about himself, it turns out our humble Bishop Emeritus William Joseph Dendinger of the Diocese of Grand Island is a pretty huge deal.

With Pope Benedict

But before he was a big-time military chaplain and a Bishop shaking the hands of Presidents and Popes, he was just a little boy growing up in the small Nebraska town of Coleridge. 

The son of farmers and the youngest of six children, Billy Dendinger grew up in a devoutly Catholic home. It was a happy existence until the first day of fifth grade - a day that for the rest of his life he will vividly recall.

The warm September morning had been a good day to start school. His teacher, a brand new high school graduate with six weeks of teacher's training, didn't offer much in the way of classroom instruction but did allow for long recesses in the school yard which was fine with Billy.

At the end of that first day of fifth grade, he trudged the half mile home and was surprised to see his father solemnly waiting.

Billy Dendinger, about two-years-old,
bottom left, with his siblings and
parents, Dave and 
Regina Dendinger (About 1941)

"Come into the house, Billy," he said, taking his son's hands. 

He remembers being led into his mother's room. The rest of his siblings were already there, and so was the parish pastor and local doctor. His mother lay in bed gasping for air. Although he'd known his mother had been ill for a very long time, it was a shock to hear her labored breaths.

"Kneel down," his father instructed. Billy obediently knelt and listened as his mother's breaths became more and more infrequent. He remembers the painful sound of her death rattle and the way the doctor at last pulled the sheet over her head. He understood then that his mother was gone.

"My mother was very kind and pleasant and easy-going," Bishop D remembers. Although she had been hospitalized for months at a time, young Billy Dendinger never imagined she would leave them forever.

After the funeral his father drew him aside.

"I'm enrolling you in the neighboring Catholic school," he told his small son taking Billy's hands in his own. "I don't think I can be both mother and father to you, and I want you to have a good teacher. The teachers at your new school will be prepared. You need a good teacher," he said gently to his son. 

His new fifth grade teacher was Sister Etto, business-like but gifted. Billy learned addition, subtraction and long division quickly and caught up to his classmates. Although Sister Etto never mentioned his mother's death, Billy knew she was aware of his family's loss.

At the new Catholic school, Billy began serving at Mass and learning about his faith. Although home without his mother was agonizingly different, he felt the solace of school and, good boy that he was, made it through his fifth grade year without complaint.

On the last day of fifth grade, much like the first, he arrived home in the twilight of a May evening.

"Where's Dad?" he asked his older sister.

"At a meeting," she replied. "He'll be late, and we're not supposed to wait up."

He remembers going to bed in his little room closest to the front door when he was suddenly awakened in the middle of the night. Someone was banging on the door. The first to hear it, Billy rushed to the door to the see the marshall standing outside.

"Billy," he said, "go get your brothers and sisters."

Their father, the marshall gravely explained to all of them, had died of an apparent heart attack. He'd been found slumped over the wheel of his car.

On the first day and the last day of his fifth grade year, Billy Dendinger lost both his mother and  father.

He missed his dad and the closeness that had grown between them after Billy's mother died. However, due to his father's foresight, the family was able to stay together in the farmhouse in which they'd all grown up. In his will Billy's father had deeded a farm to each of his six children. Billy's oldest brother Jack, who was just 21, continued to farm, and Billy soon discovered that his older siblings were intent on raising their younger siblings with their parents' strict adherence to the Catholic faith.

"Can I go to the movies?" Billy once asked.

Bishop D, center, several years ago with surviving
siblings

His oldest brother and sister looked at him. "We don't go to movies during Lent," his brother reprimanded him.

Church was a given, and Billy - with the help of his older siblings and the income provided by his father's will -was able to continue his education in the Catholic school system and to grow in his faith. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't forget that he was a boy without parents. During his freshman year of high school, he remembers that a teacher instructed the students to write and send a card to their moms for Mother's Day.

"There was no one to send a card to," he remembers. Still, he always felt the protection of school and his older siblings who were so mindful of their small brothers and sisters.

Reminders were always there, but Bill Dendinger thrived in school and discovered the consolation of his faith. The call to the priesthood was instinctive and without angst. Faith had always filled his home. His older brother was ordained a priest, two aunts were Ursuline sisters, and two uncles were Marianist Brothers. Billy Dendinger never questioned his own desire to enter the seminary.

Perhaps the loss of his parents was responsible for his eagerness to serve others. Even after he was ordained, Bill Dendinger experienced a deeper calling. Right after his ordination, he taught for a time at St. Edward Central Catholic High School in Elgin. During the Viet Nam War, five of his former students were killed in the war. Their deaths devastated him as well as the small community of Elgin.

Bishop D golfing (Photo courtesy of
Grand Island Independent)

"I knew there was a chaplain service," Bishop D recalls, "but I needed to know who was taking care of these kids serving in the military. So I went to Offutt Air Force Base to find out."

So began his long service as a military chaplain.

Maybe all of Bishop Dendinger's ministry is rooted in his fifth grade year. 

The need to serve others has never left him. Now at 85, he spends his mornings on the treadmill and plays golf whenever weather permits. Nevertheless, he's active all over the Diocese. Not only does he serve at Grand Island Central Catholic, but he also subs for priests in every small corner of Nebraska. His affable compassion and wisdom are a gift to us all.

This May Bishop Emeritus William Joseph Dendinger of the Diocese of Grand Island will celebrate his 60th year in the priesthood. He's fit and funny and warm and wise.

Wherever Heaven is, Billy Dendinger's folks must surely be proud of their orphaned boy - the boy who would be a priest, a decorated military chaplain, who would travel the world to serve others.

The little boy who would be Bishop.