Bishop Maurice Dingman, 1986

“Taking a vacation is just doing something different.” That’s the response young Maurice Dingman got from his father when he asked for a break from his day-long farming chores. An attentive and obedient son, that’s the way he lived the rest of his life, going from one task to another without pause.

There are a number of adjectives his friends used to describe the industrious 1986 Pacem in Terris honoree: gentle, kind, humble, devout, ecumenical. But perhaps the most appropriate would be “over-worked.” From the beginning of his ordination as a priest in the Diocese of Davenport, he was handed a steady stream of duties which seemed to increase over time. Three successive bishops employed him in multiple assignments. Three at a time seemed to be the norm. Then, when becoming Bishop of Des Moines and master of his own time, he simply stepped up the pace.  Every day, another “vacation.”

Maurice John Dingman was born on January 20, 1914 on a farm outside St. Paul, a small town in the extreme southeastern corner of Iowa.  His parents Theodore and Angela Dingman, were part of a large, cohesive German rural community. Young Maurice  grew up in a nurturing environment in which religion played a prominent role. He started doing chores as a child, and throughout his life, came back to pitch in at the family farm on those rare occasions when he had a break in his never-ending obligations.

Dingman had an early attraction to the priesthood and, after elementary school, was sent to Davenport, Iowa, to pursue his vocation as a boarding student at St. Ambrose Academy and, four years later, at St. Ambrose College and Seminary. Bishop Henry Rohlman sent him to attend the Pontifical North American College and Gregorian University in Rome where he was ordained on December 8, 1939.

Returning to Iowa, he was assigned to teach at St. Ambrose Academy until 1943, when he was named secretary to Bishop Rohlman and assistant chancellor of the diocese. His responsibilities increased and, with them, assignments as chaplain to The Ottumwa Naval Air Station and the Congregation of the Humility of Mary in the same town. He was to serve in a similar capacity at Regina Coeli Monastery in Bettendorf and Mercy Hospital in Davenport.

Later, Dingman became diocesan chancellor and superintendent of Catholic schools. Numerous other tasks were given him which required his special talent for diplomacy and human insight.

One is worth examining as an example of his working methods. There were two Catholic parishes in Muscatine, Iowa, each supporting Catholic high schools. It became obvious that two separate schools could no longer be financially sustained. Dingman was given the assignment of effecting a transition to one. It was not a simple matter.

The two schools were rivals, as were the parishes. Each had its own staff of nuns from different orders. Simply decreeing the change was not the way to get the job done, so Dingman took his time, visiting with the pastors, the school staffs, students, and parents; listening carefully, gradually winning everyone’s assent to a peaceful transition,

There was one caveat. He reported to the bishop that the process would work only if the principal did not come from either school or parish; it had to be someone neutral, from outside. The bishop agreed and gave the job to Dingman. At the time, he was chaplain to the Carmelite monastery in Bettendorf, vice-chancellor, and diocesan school superintendent. This fourth task meant spending his evenings in Bettendorf, driving to and from Muscatine every weekday morning and late afternoon. 

This could be a problem. Driving meant a pause in a long, restless day and its monotony often caused him to start nodding. Fortunately, there was one other person in the same situation, taking a bus to and from the Quad Cities and Muscatine. He heard of Dingman’s situation and offered to drive, saving bus fare and giving the overworked principal a chance to nap during the 30-minute trips. And that’s how we became friends.

On rare occasions, he would have time to join my family for dinner and that’s when his remarkable  character came into focus. He gave close, equal attention to both children and adults, eager to engage in conversation, to listen and to learn, rather than to teach. He was comfortable with everyone he met. His equanimity was to serve him well when he was consecrated bishop in 1968.

At first, he resisted the invitation to accept the position. It was a testing time for the Catholic Church. Pope John XXIII, who was expected to be an “interim” pope, surprised everyone by summoning the second Vatican Council into session in 1962. He then issued his famous encyclical, “Pacem In Terris,” dealing with the rights and obligations of individuals and the state, and the relationship between states. He died in 1963, the same year it was issued, leaving the council to continue until 1965. The changes set in motion by the pope and the council were of deep concern to many traditionalists, but liberating to most Catholic communicants.

Dingman was conservative and instinctively  committed to the institutional church, but actions of the council spoke to his humanity and belief in the relevance of the laity. He was appointed as the sixth bishop of Des Moines and received his episcopal ordination on June 19, 1968. It quickly became apparent that he would be a different kind of bishop, one whose thinking and actions would be shaped by “Pacem in Terris.”

The prospect of having a bishop committed to these new ideas did not sit well with a number of pastors, who were accustomed to a “vertical” church; one in which authority flowed from the top down. Transitioning to a “horizontal” church, involving both clergy and laity in pursuing its mission would not be a welcome change.

In the process of assuming his new office, Dingman was interviewed by the Des Moines diocesan newspaper. His remarks were revealing. He said that to simply “run the diocese would be completely out of focus with the whole idea of a bishop in the Post Conciliar Church.”  A bishop “should be in the midst of his people.” He must decide where and how to deal with issues, “but the decisions will not be made by the bishop alone.“

To this end, he called priests of the diocese to a workshop for a dialogue on the results on the Second Vatican Council. Following this unprecedented move, they decided to structure a council of all diocesan priests, with officers and a governing board, to discuss problems and recommend acton by the bishop. Dingman would later invite the women of religious orders to take a similar action. Final decisions remained his responsibility, but they would be informed by the counsel he had received.

A further, far-reaching step was to urge the formation of councils in every parish, where priests, sisters, and laity would meet as equals to be mutually involved in the mission of the church. An Office of Renewal was established to help facilitate the formation of theses new structures and promote the attitudes necessary to make them effective. 

While many American dioceses would deal with the changes implicit and explicit in the recommendations of Vatican II, nowhere else would it be done so thoroughly, rapidly, and smoothly as in Des Moines.

When Dingman first entered the bishop’s mansion in Des Moines, his instinct was to find simpler quarters. He had never occupied more than two rooms in his life. In the event, he took two second floor rooms near the chapel, leaving the rest of the 23-room Tudor mansion to the use of the diocese. It quickly became a hub of activity, housing meeting, dinners, and activities concerning the many causes in which the new bishop became involved.

These ranged from promoting rural life (a topic of consuming importance to the farmer’s son), union solidarity, nuclear disarmament, prison reform, hunger, poverty, immigration, racial justice, life-long education, ecumenism, to the establishment of a Diocesan Ministry for Peace. He was relentless in putting the Gospel into action in the secular world.

When questioned about his willingness to take part in civil protests and demonstrations - even spending a night in jail with others who protested their wretched conditions - he answered that he encountered the world “with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” 

Bishop Dingman commanded headlines after he forwarded an invitation to Pope John Paul II to visit a American farm setting during his planned trip to this country in 1979. The pope surprised him by agreeing and visiting Living History Farms on October 4th of that year. The event received massive coverage.

The interesting fact  is that, while Dingman got along well with the John Paul II, he was uncomfortable with the pope’s increasingly rigidity. He was firm in his commitment to the institutional church, but willing to discuss any topic of concern with members of the laity, even entering into talks about the ordination of women.

On his last ad limina trip to Rome (a visit required of all bishops every five years) he was met with Pope Paul VI’s firm statement that such discussions were out of bounds. In their richly detailed biography of Bishop Dingman, authors Shirley Crisler, SFCC, and Mira Mosle, SVM, include a conversation he had with himself on his return, in which he expressed  in writing how conflicted he felt about such matters.

As a priest, he never hesitated to perform any duty imposed by his bishop. As bishop he felt a deep obligation to be “In the midst of His People” (the apt title of the biography) and to respond to their questions and ideas, even on controversial subjects. They were as important to the mission of the church as the clergy.

In all situations, he would take great pains to listen intently and give careful consideration to ideas and opinions from every source, unfailingly patient and truly engaging in an honest exchange of thought. His determination to take time to hear everyone out and think long and carefully about each aspect of a problem would irritate many, who thought he should reach a quick and - in their minds - obvious decision. He would not be rushed; he wanted to get it right. He was different, a true “Post Council” bishop.

A personal incident worth citing concerns his being kidnapped by two young men. Late one night, he stopped for gas at a convenience store. When he returned to the car, a man hiding the back seat leaned over and threatened his life. Another young man got into the front passenger seat and demanded all his money. As usual, he had just a few dollars and some change. Frustrated, the youth in the back seat, took over the wheel and started driving, with Dingman sandwiched between the two.

The trip ended up a hundred miles away in Waterloo, where the young men got out at a dance hall, taking the keys. One returned and demanded the bishop drive him back to Des Moines. It was a hazardous trip with Dingman constantly starting to fall asleep, an old weakness. After dropping off his passenger, Dingman arrived safely back at the mansion. When the two 17-year-olds were arrested, Dingman appeared in their defense, asking the judge for probation, When they were sentenced to five months at Eldora, he visited and later helped one find a job. Normal episcopal behavior?

His years in Des Moines were filled with service, not only to his people, but to the nation. He became deeply involved in Immigration issues, personally visiting Central America to understand conditions that motivated those who emigrated and helping emigres settle in Iowa. He was a strong advocate for rural issues, heading the Catholic Rural Life Conference for three years. He was a prominent voice and presence at a wide range of meetings and activities for a number of social initiatives and demonstrations.

His commitments and obligations seemed to increase each year; until suddenly they stopped. A massive stroke destroyed a large portion of his brain on the morning of April 17, 1986, effectively ending a lifetime of service to God and humanity. No longer able to function, he resigned his bishopric and spent the final years of his life in unremitting pain, in and out of hospitals and rehabilitation centers. Nothing helped; the damage was too extensive. Throughout this period, he required the constant care of family and friends. He died in 2002 at the age of 78.

In 1986, the year that he was stricken, Dingman was honored with the Pacem in Terris Award. Physically and mentally unable to attend the ceremony in person, he slowly and painfully recorded a response with the help of friends and technicians who were able to piece together his fragmentary comments.

It was a moving experience for all to hear his familiar voice once again, speaking of the ideals he valued and exhorting them to continue “to be leaven - to be with the people and share one’s ideas . . to continue your search for the truth.”

One of his ideas continues to motivate “his people.” The Catholic Ministry of Peace he founded in 1981 remains active. While no longer a function of the Diocese of Des Moines, it continues as an independent, ecumenical organization, honoring its founder by presenting an annual Dingman Peace Award to a regional citizen who has put its mission into practice.

~ Don Wooten