Over the years, I’ve worked for publishers who came from the business world, and for publishers who came up through the newsroom. The former got upset when advertisers got upset. The latter … they were pretty much always upset.
For the past three decades, though, all my publishers have been bishops. They didn’t seem to get upset. They just got determined.
I remember Archbishop Exner taking public stands that drew so much anger the Vancouver Police advised him to stay away from his office windows at night.
Archbishop Roussin had the courage to take on TELUS publicly when it considered entering the pornography market, and he did that while battling mental illness.
Then Archbishop Miller arrived, bearing the motto Veritati Servire—to serve the truth. It didn’t take long to see he also wasn’t one to shy away from what needed doing.
Shortly after he got here, I asked him to climb up to the roof of 150 Robson Street with a group of Catholic school students. I wanted a front-page photo of him, the kids, and a Canadian flag, with B.C. Place in the background to welcome the world to the 2010 Vancouver Olympics.
It was probably the last thing he wanted to do that day, but up he went, climbing the stairs and posing until we got the shot just right.
Over the years, he tackled the hard things. He confronted what needed confronting. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. I’m also sure there were times he wished his newspaper would keep quiet. Or that some stories or letters had stayed unpublished. Delicate situations can get more awkward when mishandled in the media.
But he always listened when I asked for his ear. He understood the importance of readers knowing what was happening, and of giving them a space to share their thoughts.
There were certainly times when that openness made things messier. But he never stopped the paper from publishing news, opinions, or letters. He never put restrictions on the stories we reported or the views we printed. Although there was one time when an editorial crossed the line from political to personal, and he let me know it.
Still, he believed the newspaper was a place where the voices of the faithful could be heard. Not pushing the boundaries of faith, but the limits of comfort. People make noise when they’re uncomfortable. And the Church should be a place where that noise can be heard.
Pope Francis says people are messy. The world is messy. Newspapers are literally messy. But Archbishop Miller made space for the mess—for the voices in the pews.
He ordained permanent deacons, established a First Nations ministry, and opened the Archdiocese’s sexual abuse files. That was his service to the truth.
During the pandemic, I believe he was uneasy about the tension between Church and State, and with our coverage of it. But he became one of the few Church leaders anywhere who was ready to challenge the government in court for its treatment of religious communities.
I will always be grateful to Archbishop Miller for his service to the truth. And I pray he continues to serve it for many years to come.
Your voice matters! Join the conversation by submitting a Letter to the Editor here.
