Wednesday, July 13, 2011

New Ohio bishop tackles big Catholic issues

Bishop Joe Binzer worked in the business world for a decade before entering the seminary and in June became the region's highest-ranking Catholic leader behind Archbishop Dennis Schnurr.

The former accountant, whose style is a combination of good-natured priest and meticulous organizer, has for years relied on his analytical skills, as well as his faith, to tackle some of the biggest challenges facing the church.

His business now is saving souls, but Binzer remains a clear-eyed pragmatist when it comes to doing his job and solving tough problems.

He has helped the church balance budgets, reached out to clergy abuse victims and organized a range of events, from major public ceremonies to small wedding rehearsals .

His attention to detail is legendary -- even his 81-year-old mother teases him about it -- and it has made him a go-to guy at the archdiocese.

"He's willing to face problems and deal with them," says retired Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk, who gave Binzer one of the top jobs in the archdiocese eight years ago when he named him chancellor. "I knew that whatever it was, he was going to get the job done."

Binzer's new job as Schnurr's auxiliary bishop is still taking shape, but he expects church finances, public outreach and priest personnel matters to be at the top of his to-do list.

Whatever the task, his approach will likely be the same: Identify the problem, gather information and come up with a solution.
Binzer might still be an accountant if a friend hadn't asked him a tough question over lunch 25 years ago.

"What do you want to do with the rest of your life?" his friend asked.

Binzer shrugged. He was in his early 30s and had been an accountant for a big Cincinnati firm for 10 years. As far as he knew, he already was doing what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

"You know what you should do?" said his friend, a fellow Catholic who knew Binzer was serious about his faith. "You should become a priest."

Binzer was stunned. He was a devout Catholic, but he also was a practical, cautious guy -- a number cruncher -- and the idea of giving up a job that suited him so well for one so different seemed a little crazy.

Yet the thought nagged at him.

"I didn't pack up my desk the following day," Binzer says now. "But I prayed about it for a year."

He also did what he'd always done when faced with a tough decision. He dug into the details.

He talked to priests, took a few seminary classes and figured out how long he'd have to go
back to school.

Along the way, his faith deepened in ways he didn't expect. He was still, hopelessly, a "numbers guy," but he was now one who wanted to connect with people in need and make a difference in their lives.

He entered the seminary in 1988 and was ordained in 1994. His first job was as a parish priest at St. Dominic Church in Delhi Township, but his business experience and problem-solving skills got noticed quickly by Pilarczyk and others.

Soon, Binzer was working in the archdiocese's downtown offices. The church was facing an economic crunch as the new century began and was looking for business-savvy people to help right the ship.
Binzer's instincts for problem-solving developed early, while growing up the son of a hardware store owner in Groesbeck.

Day after day, he and his six siblings watched as their dad listened patiently to tales of knocking washing machines and broken light switches. That was the key, his dad would tell them.

Listening.

His father, Bob Binzer, knew he couldn't fix a problem if he didn't understand what was wrong.

Those were lessons Binzer would need in 2003 when he became chancellor and took on one of his biggest challenges at the archdiocese -- overseeing the church's response to accusations of clergy sexual abuse.

The scandal already had been raging for more than a year by the time Binzer got involved, and he knew it would be unlike anything else he'd done.

Victim advocates were furious with church officials for failing to report abuse allegations to authorities.

And even after American bishops approved rules that required reporting, victims accused church leaders of being unsympathetic to their suffering.

Binzer hoped to change that.

So he did what he'd done so often before.

He studied the problem, learned as much as possible about sexual abuse and read every news story he could about the crisis.

Then he tried to figure out what he could do to make things better, or at least a little less terrible, for the angry, weeping victims who called or met with him.

He started by saying, "I'm sorry."

"When somebody came in and explained what happened, I'd apologize," Binzer says. "I just tried to listen to what they had to say, tried to learn what I could about the impact on their life and their families."

Binzer offered to have the church pay for counseling and encouraged victims to contact authorities, as he was required to do under the church's new rules. But he also did something he didn't have to do.

He handed over his business card.

"This conversation doesn't have to end today," he'd say. "Call any time."

Binzer knows his new job will bring different challenges, both large and small.

He says the archbishop wants him to take on "special projects" and to get out of the office more for school Masses, ice cream socials and confirmations.

Binzer is confident his organizational and problem-solving skills won't go to waste, even if he's crunching fewer numbers.

That becomes clear about midway through a recent wedding rehearsal, when Binzer notices several participants seem confused and a little nervous about how things are going.

He tries to put everyone at ease by reminding them that a flawless ceremony isn't the most important thing.

"Just remember," he says. "They love each other and they're going to be married tomorrow."

He waits a moment before delivering the punch line: "Right?"

Everyone laughs.

Binzer smiles broadly and nods.

Another problem solved.