The Story of Good Shepherd
American Catholic Church

Brian Delvaux, an operations manager of a small telecommunications company, sat at his computer with Robert, the service and installation manager. It was 7:00 a.m. on a spring morning in 1988, and the two men were feeling the pressure on which Robert thrived and that Brian despised. Eleven installations were in progress and five phone systems were to "cut over" that day. Two of these businesses fell into the category of "unreasonably demanding" customers and were already holding on lines two and three. On line one was that very nice gentleman who periodically emerges from all the others and whose experience as a customer could only be described as "cursed." For this poor fellow, everything that could possibly go wrong was going wrong. The icing on the morning's cake was outside Brian's door. Waiting there were three sales people with special requests, fifteen technicians getting paid on the average of $19.00 per hour smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee, and a warehouse manager with the news that the shipment of the "deal-of-a-lifetime discount cable" he just received was two pair and not three pair as was desperately needed. Brian was also purchasing manger.

Denise, his administrative assistant, sat at her desk with her arms folded. "Denise, can you please give me a hand here?" The answer was "No pay, no work." The somewhat pompous controller of CCI was unjustly sluggish at getting the paychecks out when they were due (the day prior) and was sitting on them until he felt like passing them out. Brian bolted out of his office and into Joseph's. His message was short and not fit for repetition here, but it did the trick. Brian unceremoniously dropped the check on Denise's desk and ordered, "Now get these techs out of here!"

The orderly avalanche continued until lunch when Denise asked Brian to join her. She had something to tell him, and his fear was that she was going to resign. Also running through his mind was how far he had fallen. His language had always been a little colorful, but not like the verbiage which seemed to most successfully motivate everyone from accounting to installation and service. At CCI he learned to holler, work well into his after hours and weekend time, and gain 30 pounds at the roach coach!

At this particular lunch hour, Denise and Brian took their pastrami on rye lovingly prepared on that lunch wagon and drove to a nearby park. There Denise handed Brian information that would forever impact the direction of his professional life. Brian was now on his third career. CCI had begun to have growing pains, and one of the partners, Greg, contacted him. In his second career, Brian was assistant branch manager at a wholesale Pipe and Supply House plagued by the then dismal economy. Even then, the inside-sales-person-turned-manager was feeling hopelessly distant from his first career. Long since had the employees stopped cleaning up their language when he walked by as they did 4 1/2 years earlier. Brian was hired there in 1979 only 1 month after leaving his assignment as associate pastor of St. Patrick's Roman Catholic Church.

Now, almost nine years after leaving the active ministry, Brian braces himself for what he is sure will be bad news from Denise. She pulled out of her purse, not a letter of resignation, however, but a newspaper article. This clipping was well traveled, to say the least. You see, Denise's mother was on an extended stay in Germany with her family. All of her mail, along with her local newspaper, was being forwarded from her home in Alabama. Dorothy knew her daughter was an administrative assistant to a "former priest" and when she read the article about a rather unusual Catholic parish, she just had to send it to Denise. The piece was a reprint from the Orange County Register and, among other items, it described the Pastor of St. Matthew Old Catholic Church in Orange celebrating Mass while his wife sat in the congregation!

Denise handed Brian the article. He was immediately curious, then hopeful as he read the description of a typical Catholic Liturgy being celebrated by an atypical independent Catholic priest. Also a realist, he was guarded in his optimism. The clipping later took its place at home on the top shelf of his armoire where the father of a boy and a girl dared not pursue the possibility that even he might be able to return to the active ministry for fear of disappointment. Long after it had been kicked around the house and found its way into the trash, its message haunted Brian Delvaux, operations manager.

Maybe he would have kept track of Hickman's name and that of his church had his circumstances not improved, but they did. Luis, an MBA with a talent for troubleshooting arrived at CCI, and while things seemed to worsen before they got better, it was as if the old Brian resurrected. He began to get interested in life beyond CCI again. Even the trips to the grocery store were a matter of planning meals to enjoy rather than buying food for survival. The job which contributed to a feeling of depression, had become both challenging and rewarding-that is, until an army of strange new men in business suits walked in on a Friday and announced that management would be staying "until we are done!" Done with what? Done with turning CCI into a part of an already existing division of Pac Tel!

Delvaux's uncle, who was managing editor of the Antelope Valley Gazette once said, "I'd rather be a big fish in a small pond than a small fish in a big one." Considering that Brian never got excited about a "business pond" of any size, the big one was definitely not for him. He really didn't want to work for the new company. This probably accounted for the very relaxed interviews that led to his hiring. If the entire experience hadn't been such a negative one, and Pac Tel hadn't acquired CCI, Brian would probably still be working there. Neither would he have talked to Jim about a sales job in equipment leasing. Jim had done business with CCI. He knew and liked Brian and heard he had left CCI. During the first luncheon meeting designed to attract Brian to a career in the leasing industry, Jim happened to mention a customer of his named Carol Hickman.

He was curious to know if Brian had ever heard of her step-son, Father Peter. This made one too many times now that Brian heard that name and he couldn't ignore the possibilities it conjured up in his mind any longer. Suffice it to say that weeks later during a final meeting with Brian, Jim grumbled "I guess I should have never given you Carol Hickman's number." Brian laughed as he sat across the table wearing a Roman collar for the first time in over nine years. Affiliated with St. Matthew Church on a probationary basis, Fr. Brian Delvaux had returned to the active priesthood there on Passion Sunday of 1989. On May 25th of that year, the celebration of the 15th anniversary of his ordination took place silently and joyfully in his heart.

St. Matthew Church was, at that time, a diamond in the rough. What was particularly refreshing about this little church was that the pastor, Fr. Peter Hickman, saw a need for ministry and met it. Because he did not grow up in the Roman Catholic tradition, nor had he been ordained in it, he wasn't a maverick "breaking the rules" of his own tradition. Peter had been ordained a Southern Baptist minister. While this might seem an unusual starting point for a Catholic Priest, in the world of Independent Catholic parishes, priests with any formal theological training are all too often few and far between.

Pastor Peter Hickman had become aware of an influx of former Catholics into his Baptist congregation. In order to better serve them, his worship took on characteristics of the Catholic tradition which were far removed from the Baptists. When one day he baptized an infant, the powers that be in the Southern Baptist Church allowed as how Peter was doing something noble in serving his misplaced members, but it wasn't Baptist. Peter, as he left the Baptist Church, had to admit that besides trying to serve Catholics who could no longer fully participate in their own church, something was happening within him. He had never been successful at converting Catholics to membership in the Baptist Church, but his encounter with them was drawing him towards elements of the Catholic faith.

Peter Hickman's marital status was an obvious obstacle to several paths he attempted to take toward the priesthood, so he ultimately spent several years studying under Bishop Emile Federico Rodriguez y Fairfield of the Mexican Old Roman Catholic Church at St. Augustine Parish in East Los Angeles. He was ordained a priest by Patrick Callahan who had been ordained Bishop by Fairfield in April of 1984.

By far the most inspiring element of Delvaux's experience at St. Matthews had little to do with hierarchal structure or clergy. The parishioners were typically wonderful. Now and then, in fact, a rather unusual collection of priests were paraded through St. Matthews at the Sunday Mass, but the people were a cross section of American Catholics, many of whom had one liability in common - the tragedy of Divorce and the hope and joy of remarriage. This hopelessly separated them from the Eucharist in a church which tolerated Divorce and saw remarriage as the tragedy.

When Brian Delvaux was an eighth grade student at Holy Trinity School, Sister Marie Pauline, his teacher and principal, used an unusual illustration to explain apostolic succession. "There are these little bishops," she reported. "They may work in a grocery store or teach school, but they were consecrated by bishops who are a part of a succession that split from the Roman Catholic Church." Sister seemed almost "tickled" to report this information which she had on very good authority - a priest friend who worked at the Chancery Office. This seemed almost impossible to her young students, but it was a very interesting way to demonstrate how the order of bishop as well as sacramental power and authority is passed on. They understood well that real priests and bishops existed and functioned outside of the Roman Catholic Church. Sister's example also made it easier for them to understand the Great Schism between the East and West, and how the Orthodox Church validly celebrated the sacraments.

Brian, who 35 years later would become an independent bishop, was fascinated. His eighth grade class, moreover, was among the very few which ever learned about these rather unusual clerics, many of whom were even married! To this day, most Catholics who discover Good Shepherd Church wonder why they have never heard of such a thing as an Independent Catholic Church. Typically, Independent Catholic Churches don't succeed in accomplishing their mission. Almost all of them claim to exist for the purpose of serving the Catholic "abandoned" by the Roman Catholic Church. Despite the fact that many people agree that such a church is a wonderful idea, none of these churches have really grown.

Experts in church planting and growth credit God with making a community grow. The astute pastor, then, does nothing to create the growth, but does have to try and avoid anything that might stunt it! When Fr. Brian returned to the active priestly ministry at St. Matthew's, he took note of what the vast majority of clerics did to kill their churches. Among the characteristics of this eccliastically suicidal behavior were the following: 1. The belief that Independent Catholicism would accomplish its mission by the sheer propagation of an inordinate amount of clergy (there are many more bishops than deacons or priests by the way). 2. Premature ordination - very few priests and bishops ever completed seminary training, let alone served in parochial assignments. 3. Even more rare is the priest or bishop in an independent Catholic jurisdiction who is a full-time cleric. Almost never does their ministry support them financially. 4. There exists in most of these churches an obsession with apostolic succession and validity of the sacraments to the exclusion of any concern about legitimacy. ( With little formal seminary training or ecclesiastical experience, establishing something as complex as a parish ministry under the discerning eye of Catholic parishioners is impossible for most independent priests.)

These flaws were responsible for the above mentioned clergy who showed up and concelebrated at Sunday Mass at St. Matthew Church. They really had no place else to go. While these individuals were disturbing to Fr. Delvaux, the vision at the heart of the church's mission, abandoned Catholics returning to the Sacraments, helped him to see the parish's potential. The many scandals he was aware of among the Roman Catholic clergy also helped him keep the eccentricities of an unqualified independent clergy in perspective. "No one is perfect," thought the new associate at St. Matthew's, "and our imperfections are simply a mandate to improve with the grace of God."

Soon all of the "wandering clergy despaired of ever claiming St. Matthew's as their assignment. Peter Hickman had simply pulled together a Catholic community that was far too evolved for any of them to keep pace with the demands of its ministry. There remained only one small problem. Despite a lot of effort, Peter Hickman had not yet found a presentable bishop to complete a truly Catholic ecclesiastical structure. By 1990, however, he would find much more. It was in that year that Frs. Peter and Brian responded to the repeated urging of a former Vincentian seminarian and independent priest, Victor Rey, to meet with the Most Reverend E. Paul Raible.

If the menagerie of pseudo-clergy who, during the early days, hovered around St. Matthew Church, was unsuitable for pastoral ministry, the search for a bishop revealed an even more discouraging picture of Independent Catholicism. Fr. Peter had begun investigating independent bishops well before Brian Delvaux joined him as first associate pastor. A perusal of any of the volumes which attempt to document the individual parochial history and apostolic succession of such bishops would give the reader valuable insight in to how perplexing a task this search would be. There simply did not appear to be any good, competent bishops who had a heart for ministry or who aspired to holiness.

Bishop Edward Paul Raible would contradict any conclusion that no good independent Catholic Bishops exist. The man, himself, defied stereotyping. Referred to as a paradox by Delvaux, he was at once conservative yet liberal, stoic yet warm, traditional yet compassionate. For years he had escaped the "dreaded liturgical changes" of Vatican II, celebrating Mass with his back to the people at St. Francis by the Sea in Laguna Beach. Sometime after his Episcopal ministry had begun at St. Matthew's, he admitted he could never go back to saying a Tridentine style Mass.

Paul Raible (only his mother is allowed to call him Eddy) had never received Holy Orders in the Roman Catholic Church. He did prepare for the priesthood first as a Benedictine monk at St. Meinrad Abbey in Indiana and later as a diocesan seminarian at St. John Vianney Seminary in Steubenville, Ohio, where he received minor orders.

After leaving the seminary and earning his degree in psychology at Duquesne University, he traveled to California. For a brief time he taught at St. Anthony School in Long Beach, and would eventually distinguish himself as a teacher who could reach the most challenging students at Broad Avenue School in Wilmington. It was there, one afternoon, that Mr. Raible was discussing his ecclesiastical past with a colleague. Somehow he couldn't cover up the fact that he still felt called to a priestly service in the church. His fellow teacher asked whether he might consider becoming a priest in the American Catholic Church.

Paul's confident response was, "There's no such thing!" He had never been a member of Sister Marie Pauline's religion class. At this time even Brian Delvaux, now an associate pastor at St. John Fisher Church, had long since forgotten about the "little bishops," nor did he connect them with the Old Catholic Schism about which he had learned in his seminary Church History course. It was back to this event in 1870 that so many Independent Catholic bishops looked as the source of their own episcopal successions.

Mr. Paul Raible was about to meet one of these very bishops, Simon E. Talarczyk, a former Roman Catholic priest who also found his way to this unusual Catholic church. Paul's membership at St. Francis by the Sea yielded much for the small parish. He created and installed the stained glass windows which are still in place today. He served as organist and choir director. Finally he and a former Episcopalian seminarian, Joseph Duff, completed studies there for the priesthood. Paul Raible was ordained by Bishop Simon on February 2, 1980. St. Francis by the Sea was also blessed by the ministry if these two priests who filled the tiny church three times on a Sunday. Fr. Paul Raible was also blessed because he, unlike many clergy in Independent Catholic jurisdictions, was a pastoral man with a heart for ministry. The ministry he would bring to St. Matthew's as bishop would be the result of education, experience and, most importantly, his spirituality.

Only four major defects contributing to the failure of Independent Catholicism to fulfill its mission were mentioned earlier in this history. We have now reached the point at which we must mention major defect number five; a dismal lack of unity. This problem, like the others, is an indictment of clergy rather than of the laity. If a strong episcopal ministry is essential to the unity of a healthy church, many independent bishops have failed miserably. The highly centralized monarchical model sometimes referred to as the "Roman System" lies at the opposite extreme, not to the collegial model of authority exercised as service which Vatican II attempted to restore, but the chaos that results when authority means nothing. Defect number five will rear its head three times during the remainder of our story. The first of these incidents would occur while Brian Delvaux was yet an employee of the phone company.It was in May of 1988 that the newly ordained Bishop E. Paul Raible had been "relieved of his duties" at St. Francis by the Sea. This would be just one more split, the casualties of which would be the faithful members of St. Francis. In 1986 Bishop Simon had selected Fr. Paul Raible to be ordained bishop. Bishop Elect Raible, as he was now titled, entered a state of ecclesiastical limbo which, according to Roman Catholic Canon law, should last only a couple of months. In Paul's case the time stretched into two years. Even though no date had been set for his episcopal ordination, he was allowed to take on duties which belonged to the office he was yet to hold. In 1987, he established an ecclesiastical jurisdiction in Pennsylvania. He had the founding of Blessed Sacrament Church in Allison Park, Pennsylvania in mind. In the same year Gerald Yeager, Raible's cousin, came to California from Pennsylvania to be ordained priest by Bishop Simon. Yeager was and is a scholar, distinguishing himself as a student at St. Mary's Seminary in Baltimore. He sacrificed an undoubtedly bright future in the Roman Catholic Church when he left the seminary and later became a college professor in Pittsburgh, establishing the curriculum in Philosophy. Now he would become Pastor of Blessed Sacrament. As time dragged on, the small parish in Pennsylvania needed the ministry of its bishop, who, by April of 1988, was still Bishop Elect.

Fr. Yeager had, by now, prepared a number of children for confirmation. His repeated promises to parents that a bishop would visit Allison Park and confirm their sons and daughters were beginning to be perceived as empty. Yeager and his cousin Paul Raible, were concerned that the confidence of the members of the newly formed parish would be destroyed. It seemed to them that the time for Raible's consecration was long overdue. Bishop Simon's schedule, moreover, did not allow him the time to fly to Pennsylvania, while Bishop Elect Raible was making regular trips to the state to visit his family. Raible showed the courtesy to his bishop of informing him that he intended to seek Episcopal ordination from another jurisdiction if there were no signs that this "ecclesiastical limbo," which now included the families of Blessed Sacrament, would end any time soon.Bishop Forrest Barber, like Raible's cousin, was a scholar. He taught school on the secondary level for Los Angeles City Schools. Primarily a history buff with regards to the spread of Independent Catholicism , Bishop Barber knew Paul Raible. Described by Raible as a good friend with a good heart, Barber was also scolded by his friend for receiving and dispensing multiple consecrations. Enter Independent Catholic defect number six. The "little bishops" would get together for "synods", and question one another's apostolic succession. After doing so, they would re-ordain each other so that they could boast of better "ecclesiastical pedigrees" which they refer to as "lines of succession." To the credit of Bishop Simon, Paul Raible and Fr. Joseph Duff had been sheltered from all of this Episcopal insecurity. As a result, Bishop Elect Raible was never brought into it. Bishop Barber encouraged Raible to respond to Pastoral necessity and allow him to ordain Paul bishop, even though it would violate church protocol and possibly spark a split between Raible and the Laguna Beach bishop. The consecration of E. Paul Raible by Forrest Barber on April 28, 1988 did both. It solved the dilemma faced by Blessed Sacrament, and caused an irreparable tear in Church unity for the Laguna Beach parish.

The newly ordained Bishop Raible did not abandon his duties at St. Francis by the Sea. He remained there until his pastor returned from his vacation. The parting that resulted when the senior bishop learned of Raible's consecration by another was predictable.

Raible was now moving toward the end of his teaching career and into a period of peaceful spirituality, not unlike the life he had sought much earlier at St. Meinrad's. This time of peace was punctuated by the occasional pastoral headaches he encountered in his episcopal service to Blessed Sacrament in Pennsylvania and to a short lived parish, Queen of Peace, located in Running Springs, California. Fr. Bob Lark, ordained by Raible, was an extremely talented individual who, after leaving the Roman Catholic Seminary, worked in the ministry of Fr. Patrick Peyton, well known for his Rosary Hour on the radio during the 50's and 60's. Lark has since earned a PhD in Psychology and continues to minister to a small group of families who live year round in the little resort town.Bishop Paul enjoyed the somewhat monastic turn his life had taken, but he also longed for the unique sort of brotherhood that exists among clergy and religious in the Catholic Church. He would, however, be rudely awakened to the fact that the sort of camaraderie which marked his training and his years in Laguna with Fr. Joe Duff would be difficult to recapture. On June 15, 1988 his friend, Bishop Forrest Barber, invited him to an "important" meeting of bishops from as far away as Sweden and the Philippines. Out of respect for Bishop Barber, Raible waited until the ride home to unleash his disgust at the "little bishops" who were "playing church." Fully confident of the validity of his ordination, seeking no association with the jurisdiction of any of these bishops, and without even petitioning for orders,Paul was led into a makeshift chapel. The bishops present laid hands on one another and on Paul Raible. He did not reciprocate.

As he warned Bishop Barber never again to put him in such a position, he pointed out the awesome moral and ecclesiological implications of a bishop indiscriminately passing on the charisms of the episcopal office. He also questioned Barber's lack of confidence in being conditionally consecrated so many times. "After all," pointed out Raible, "you were ordained bishop by Dom Luis Castillo-Méndez." Castillo-Méndez was a Roman Catholic priest who shared the passion of a Roman Catholic bishop in Brazil who was a social rights activist ahead of his time. Carlos Duarte-Costa endured excommunication by his former schoolmate and reigning Pope, rather than keep silent about what he saw as Vatican wrongdoing during WWII. Pius XII excommunicated Duarte Costa on July 6, 1945. On July 7, the persistent Bishop Carlos announced, "Today is born the Brazilian Catholic Apostolic Church." Duarte-Costa consecrated Luis Fernando Castillo-Méndez on May 3, 1948 in Rio de Janeiro. Bishop Luis Castillo-Méndez consecrated Forrest Barber on January 30, 1985.

It is interesting to note how events to which we are utterly oblivious may later have an enormous impact on our lives. On the date Castillo-Méndez was made bishop, Brian Delvaux was in utero, and Paul Raible was a 15 year old high school student at Chaminade Preparatory in Marcy, New York. When Forrest Barber received conditional consecration from Castillo-Méndez, Delvaux was operations manger at the phone company and Paul Raible was teaching, as well as serving the people at St. Francis. These remote events would play an important role in eventually bolstering the legitimacy of the present ministry of Good Shepherd Church. Even though Forrest Barber was a very unusual "little bishop," when he laid hands on Raible in April of 1988, the bishops of our independent diocese would be forever linked with the Brazilian church. At this time, Brian Delvaux, by the way, is still working at the phone company, and hearing for the first time about Peter Hickman.

Delvaux remembers vividly the day he met Paul Raible. After encountering a good number of independent priests and several bishops, he was a bit "gun shy" as he puts it. "Some of these guys were actually creepy." One fellow from the Midwest lost his bishop-elect in a gang-land style shooting. What would this latest addition to the list with so many names crossed off be like? E. Paul Raible's name would be removed from the St. Matthew hall of fame, but not until he had given four years of faithful service.

Fr. Peter Hickman and Fr. Brian Delvaux waited apprehensively as the noon hour approached. Hickman had finally given ear to Fr. Victor Ray's repeated suggestions to call Paul Raible. The mystique surrounding bishops who lived out of the state or country had worn off with every disappointing encounter. Could it be that a really legitimate bishop could live right here in Huntington Beach?

At 11:45, a knock came at the door in the tiny office space in Old World Village. Fr. Peter opened the door to a tall distinguished looking man in clerical dress. Brian Delvaux began to feel more at home as he spoke with the bishop who, at last, was articulate, personable, educated and, most of all, Catholic. There was an instant rapport which grew as all three clerics walked over to what was then a Mexican restaurant for lunch.

The bishop was warm and personal. He shared the sorrow which was still fresh from the recent passing of his father "Pap", as he called him. Conversation was easy as priests and bishop got to know each other and asked the questions that would open a year long dialogue during which Raible extended faculties to the priests of the small parish. The priests prayerfully discerned whether Paul would one day be their ordinary.

Fr. Brian Delvaux cherished the years he spent at St. Matthew Church. Fr. Peter and he became a pastoral team and good friends, a rare phenomenon in most pastor/associate relationships. As the parish evolved, the two priests witnessed the movement of the Spirit among the people who made up the staff and membership of this Catholic faith community in Huntington Beach. They worked hard to keep up with the Spirit's influence, leaving the small office and chapel at the Old World Village and leasing a commercial office park building in Orange. They seemed to be part of something no other Independent Catholic Church was able to achieve, a vital parish ministry.

Peter used to joke that the two of them were like Abbot & Costello, Laurel and Hardy. They seemed to be the unbeatable combination. Each of them appealed especially to the people from two different traditions, Peter to the Evangelical Protestants, Brian to the Roman Catholics. Their appeal was not exclusive to one or the other, however. Together, they created a mosaic of the ministering Christ.

Bishop Raible would complete St. Matthew's with the ministry essential to a church proper, the Episcopacy. During the first year of his loose association with the Parish, priests and people grew to love, trust and respect him, so much so, that in July of 1991 in a Solemn Liturgy, E. Paul Raible officially became their first bishop. All of the priests who served at St. Matthews promised him and his successors obedience and respect. The portion of the building which was used as a Church was consecrated according to the Roman rite. George Clasby, then president of the Parish Council symbolically handed the keys of the building over to E. Paul Raible.

At this point the possibilities of welcoming alienated Catholics back home to their faith was limitless. Paul Raible's diocese now included two parishes in Southern California, Queen of Peace in Running Springs and St. Matthew's in Orange. As many times as Peter Hickman and Brian Delvaux admitted that they were an unbeatable team, they had also discussed Brian's founding a new parish. Decisions like this were now up to the new bishop. The future looked bright, especially with the prospect of a new parish on the horizon - but watch out! Independent Catholic problem #5 was about to rear its head once again.

Peter Hickman was a master story teller. This element was the key preaching skill which kept his congregations spellbound. Brian Delvaux had been dubbed "the Bishop Sheen" of his seminary class. Bishop Raible turned out to be a wonderful preacher as well, and these men made going to Sunday Liturgy "a treat, not a treatment," as one parishioner put it. Fr. Peter hired a husband and wife team of liturgical musicians who coordinated the music program. There was no canonical "Sunday Obligation." The people were at Mass because they wanted to be.

During the years in which Bishop Raible served the people of St. Matthew's, children were trained and received the sacraments for the first time, adults updated the knowledge of their faith, and some were initiated into the Catholic community. Many couples outside of the parish married before his priests who had a true pastoral concern for them. The preparation program and availability of a priest to officiate, even in a location other than a parish church, drew these couples to a parish rather than to rent-a-minister. A small percentage became parishioners. A close community developed. The growth which most of the people desired was resisted by others who feared the loss of intimacy which might occur should the parish become too large.

A number of clergy were ordained by Bishop Raible during those years, and other former Roman Catholic priests joined the pastoral team. The lack of a formal seminary program at that time proved to put the fledgling church at several disadvantages when it came to ordaining clergy. While the men who received the order of priest and deacon possessed a high level of theological knowledge, they did not have the advantage offered by the seminary's theological, pastoral and spiritual programs. In turn, the parishioners were at a disadvantage because the "apprenticeship" style of preparation somewhat compromised the quality of ministry received and often put parishioners in the position of scrutinizing the qualifications of candidates.

The most significant disadvantage was how much the absence of formal training hampered the ability of St. Matthew to adhere to a unified Catholic identity. Delvaux, for example, envisioned St. Matthew as a church faithful to the Western Catholic tradition with a more flexible discipline in a few areas. Fr. Peter would become much more open to implementing further changes sought after by reformers within the Roman Catholic Church. The newly ordained clergy took their backgrounds from lay ministry workshops, religious studies programs in secular universities, and ministry classes offered by Christian Fellowships. One candidate for orders, upon disagreeing with a portion of Augustine's theology declared, "Augustine is going to have a lot to answer to God for." Delvaux quickly reminded the young man that Augustine is a saint and is long past being called on the carpet by God. Others truly found Christ through the charismatic movement. These candidates for orders were a special blessing, especially to the spirituality of the pastoral staff. It became difficult, however, for Bishop Raible to give direction to clergy who heard directives "directly from God." The question arose as to whether St. Matthew was a Catholic Church with a charismatic prayer ministry, or whether it was to become a charismatic Christian fellowship bolstered by the sacraments. The parish did survive, however, and today has formed a course of studies for the deaconate and the priesthood. Although the personal relationships between the clergy who served during Raible's episcopacy are, for the most part, cordial, no two of them still participate in any formal ecclesiastical connection besides the continued relationship between Paul Raible as bishop and Brian Delvaux his auxiliary.

Father Brian Delvaux, noted in the past for his cautious, middle-of-the-road approach to life, now stood in the shoes of a risk taker. Surprisingly, the peace which had, for the most part, eluded him ever since he began his first priestly assignment as St. John Fisher in 1974, was his in this little renegade church. His greatest concern at that time was that so bold a step away from Roman Catholic orthodoxy might not be within the ambit of God’s will. Within the first few weeks of his arrival at St. Matthew Church, then in Huntington Beach, Delvaux met George and Joán Clasby. He made a "deal" with George. "If you see anything wacky going on," said the new associate pastor, "let me know. I’ll do the same for you." Evidently, neither man ever did. Clasby, who is today still a member of the American Catholic Church, constructed this website.

Rumors that Fr. Brian was discontented with his assignment at St. Matthew’s were greatly exaggerated. "You had to expect some disagreements among human beings who worked together, especially clergy, but I could have stayed at St.Matt’s forever." Inaccurate reports of Delvaux’s unhappiness ranged from stories of his plan to overthrow Raible to accounts of his making negotiations with the Los Angeles Roman Catholic Archdiocese to take him back. Once he jokingly quipped that in walking by the mirrored doors of his closet after a shower he felt like killing all 200+ pounds of himself. He never dreamed Bishop Paul would later receive a call from an alarmed parishioner that "Fr. Brian is contemplating suicide!"

Although Raible’s pastoral experience and his now close friendship with Delvaux would not allow him to take such rumors seriously, something told him that the time for Fr. Brian to move on to a parish of his own was close at hand. The priest, himself, was still happy to remain in the simpler role of associate pastor. When he eventually heard rumors of a possible mandate from Bishop Paul to end his four-year assignment at St. Matthew's, he was amazed that he did not feel the usual resistance to the notion. Summoned to a meeting at the Bishop’s home in November of 1992, Fr. Brian reached the moment of truth. "Am I your Bishop?" asked Raible. "Yes, you are," came the answer, "Then I want you to found a new parish in the Long Beach area."

There was a time in Brian Delvaux’s life when he never would have dreamed that a statement which oozed with such authority would sound so good to him. It was at this moment that he became sure that this was not just a "play" church. Without being authoritarian, Raible exercised his authority in a way that many of the "little bishops" would shy away from for fear of losing a priest. Delvaux left the Bishop’s house, his heart filled with feelings which ranged from eager excitement to anxious fear. Almost immediately he began planning how to do something he knew almost nothing about - starting a parish from scratch.

If Father Peter was cautious, having experienced the toxic eccentricities of "little bishops" who had destroyed more communities than they had built, Fr. Brian (formerly the more cautious one) carelessly careened ahead. "There are two ways of looking at it, I suppose. Either I was awfully lucky that the bishop I trusted turned out to be Paul Raible, or the Holy Spirit was working overtime."

Paul Raible, who had not yet legally accepted St. Matthew Church into the Diocesan Corporation, had no alternative but to respect Fr. Peter’s ill-advised decision to secede from Raible’s diocese. Hickman referred to Raible's service to St. Matthew's in the April 23, 1999 issue of the National Catholic Reporter. The article, by Michael J. Farrell, reports that the small ecclesiastical community needed a bishop. "They found one," reports Farrell, "but cut him adrift after two years for being too conservative."

Once again, unity was the casualty. On the other hand, St. Matthew Church had evolved to address issues and meet the needs of Christians hungry for reforms which go beyond those found at Good Shepherd. "It would have been nice to have two local parishes in a diocese," says Delvaux. "Such unity would be a sure sign of the binding power of the love of the Holy Spirit." As a result of the separation, Paul Raible moved to the new parish, Good Shepherd Church in Lakewood, California and made it his cathedral just one month after it opened on February 7, 1993.

The newly appointed pastor set out with a newfound enthusiasm to do the impossible. He was naïve to have thought that he had learned most of what he needed to know throughout the successes and the mistakes he both observed and made during his first four years in the Independent Catholic Church. The first task at hand was to find a building to rent. Father Brian felt he had spent enough time in a converted commercial space, so he concentrated on churches that wanted to "share" facilities. The second location he visited was Lakewood Village Community Church.

Roger Lautzenheizer was a pastor of legendary proportions. Fr. Brian remembered the eagerness with which he had welcomed him some years previously, when Father Brian celebrated a wedding for a couple who had rented the beautiful church. Their encounter at that time was by phone, and both clergymen were disappointed when Rev. Lautzenheizer was unable to meet Father Delvaux on the day of the wedding. The church building, however, was no disappointment. It’s beauty and several chapels of various sizes coupled with the very hospitable Lautzenheizer made this the "ideal location."

Father Brian’s visit with Pastor Roger was indeed fruitful, but this large church was hardly abandoned or inactive. It didn’t have a lot of unused space to parcel out to a new congregation. Roger did have a suggestion, though. "There is a church that split off from our congregation. It was sort of a working person’s church from the 40’s and 50’s. Today, it’s really struggling." The congregation was graying and down to a handful of people. Pastor Roger thought they might be eager for the financial boost that Good Shepherd’s donation might give the ailing church, should they share facilities.

Father Brian and a friend did not waste any time getting to Cross Roads Community Church. They found the Choir director in an empty church organizing music for the following Sunday. She seemed very eager to get the churchless priest in touch with Pastor Greg. That was Delvaux’s first encounter with the workings of a congregational model of church organization. Pastor Greg, although he sat down with Father Brian and worked out the terms of the contract for church sharing, could simply not give the OK. In fact, the Church Council convened on the last Thursday of each month. It was now the end of January 1993. The transition was in motion. Three separate letters were dated and stamped to go out to hundreds of families who had anything to do with St. Matthews or Father Brian. Local newspapers had created advertisements inviting the community to the birth of a church. Provisions enough to serve over two hundred people a delicious chicken dinner were purchased and ready, and Joán Clasby hoodwinked a member of the family to help cook and serve. Prominent among them was her mother who had distinguished herself in the past by producing numerous delicious church dinner functions.

The problem which had Delvaux biting his nails lay in the fact that by February 1st, he was without a church and, quite possibly, even without a congregation. Hopefully, the first problem would be settled by an affirmative vote of the Cross Roads Church council to approve his use of their building. Should that happen, the presses would roll, and the letters would be mailed. Would the letters of invitation give people enough notice to make arrangements to come? Would they have enough food? As the R.S.V.P.’s came in by phone, the guest list expanded to 225, not counting people who might come through the newspaper ads.

Suffice it to say that the council approved the covenant, letters went out, ads ran, and Good Shepherd Church would gather for the liturgy for the first time on Sunday evening, February 7, 1993. As the last details were prepared for the Mass and a ton of chicken was placed into the oven, it began to pour down rain in buckets. Now, a very nervous Father Brian really began to worry. Will anyone show up?

The worry over "What are we going to do with all this chicken?" was instantaneously transformed into "How are we going to feed all these people?" The sparsely populated Cross Roads Community Church at 5:45 p.m. became the standing room only Cross Roads Church by 5:55 p.m. Chairs had to be borrowed from the tables where the congregation would later dine to seat as many of the crowd as possible.

Delvaux, the principal celebrant, was accompanied in the entrance procession by priests from St. Matthew Church, including Peter Hickman. Bishop E. Paul Raible presided from the chair. With a borrowed organist and a guitar choir, Good Shepherd Church opened its doors to an overflow congregation. As Father Brian made his way down the center aisle, he recognized family, friends, couples he had married and St. Matthews parishioners. The most exciting segment of the over 225 people packed into the tiny church were the ones he did not recognize. Could these be his new parishioners? How many people would be in attendance next Sunday?

Among the mental snapshots Brian Delvaux took were the excited Bishop Raible, the rather subdued Peter Hickman, and the wonderful generosity of the people whose offerings completed the $10,000.00 "seed money" used to get things started. Also memorable was the dedication of the Clasbys and their family members who served more than just a typical chicken dinner. Fear of running out of food swung like a heavy pendulum, back again to "What will we do with the leftovers?" "We didn’t mind eating chicken for awhile after," remembers Delvaux. "The taste of Joán’s gourmet chicken, and the memory of the evening enjoyed by all were both sweet."

Other memories that linger to this day include scenes of a joyful crowd, schmoozing with people, rain pounding the roof of the small church and hot food flowing from the kitchen. There was also the terrifying thought, during Delvaux’s last waking minutes on that 7th day of February in 1993, "What if no one shows up next Sunday?"

Of course, people did show up - about 40. Forty eventually became 50, 50 became 100. Several times Sunday attendance reached 180 during the years at Cross Roads. Christmas and Easter topped 300. The UCC congregation, however, remained small, a fact that caused the hospitality extended to Good Shepherd to be strained.

"We were good ‘tenants’," quips Delvaux. Many of the people at Cross Roads were very happy with the arrangement. Even the ones who seemed to find problems had to admit the financial boost did help the struggling congregation. A new roof as well as the resurfaced parking lot and playground stand as testimonies to the financial transfusion. Gifts of talent given by Good Shepherd parishioners also benefited Cross Roads Church. Countless repairs, locks on cabinets, modifications on lighting, and a much-needed air conditioner in the small office were all gifts to Cross Roads from the tenant church. In return Cross Roads gave them a place to be born and grow, a growth not exempt from those pains that always accompany it. For this gift Good Shepherd will always be grateful to Cross Roads-UCC. Despite some strain, there were almost no significant problems during the six-year covenant with Cross Roads.

Not until the second half of the month before Good Shepherd moved its place of worship to the Grand was there ever a major disappointment on the part of either church. There is, however, so much good to cover before we revisit the incident which was the emergence of Independent Catholic Flaw #5. During our time at Cross Roads we evolved as a parish, went to international lengths to preserve apostolic succession, received the gifts of new clergy, survived that third blow to unity, moved our place of worship, and grew in maturity as well as in commitment!

In addition to the seed money, St. Matthew Church in Orange made a mutually beneficial arrangement in continuing to pay Father Brian’s salary. A very significant portion of the income of Father Peter’s parish revolved around weddings, and Father Brian had already been assigned to quite a few booked for 1993. Weddings celebrated for St. Matthew’s by Father Delvaux benefited St. Matthew as well. Good Shepherd faced the somewhat scary prospect of being financially independent.

A number of parishioners, especially those whose homes were located closer to the new church made it their new parish. An enthusiastic core group made up also of new members, enthusiastically threw their energies into the work of pioneering a new parish and a new diocese. The very first priority was to celebrate the Sunday Liturgy. A brave 10-year-old girl with beautiful red hair become the entire music ministry. She bravely stood up in front of the whole congregation and, with her violin, played all of the familiar liturgical music. She got quite good at it, remembers Delvaux, and unlike some of the early volunteers, was very gracious about stepping aside. A parishioner who had, years earlier, directed the choir of one of the most populous parishes in the archdiocese of Los Angeles, stepped forward to form a choir. Little Christie and her family remained part of the parish until her family mover to North Carolina. Good Shepherd still enjoys the visits of the now grown college age version of our brave little music minister.

Social events were next to emerge on the scene. A Women’s Pool Party, a wedding shower, and finally a Sunday Brunch for the entire parish got things started. The thirty-six participants represented over sixty percent of the people attending in those very early days.

Father Brian offered an Introduction to Catholicism (Inquiry) course, which to this day is committed to helping people arrive at an adult understanding of the Catholic faith. The children, though few, became the next focus of religious ed., and very dedicated lay people took up the works of this teaching ministry.

Brian Delvaux was born to parents who were in their late thirties in 1948. In 1991, he had taken them into his home. They had long since abandoned any opposition to his active ministry in an Independent Catholic Church, largely due to their experience of the very kind and personable Bishop Raible. Once asked by her son, "Mom, do you ever think it’s weird that I have become involved with this, a typical kind of little Catholic Church?" Nancy Delvaux responded, "Yes, but I like that it makes you available to be there for us."

Both she and her husband, Art, received sacrament through the ministry of Good Shepherd, and enjoyed their later years with their small family intact again. The most difficult of privileges bestowed on Brian Delvaux, denied to so many "former priests," were the occasions of the funerals of Nancy, then Art Delvaux, when Brian was able to be principal celebrant and homilist.

Nancy died on August 12, 1993, and her funeral on August 17th filled the church. Art passed away on April 30, 1994, and his funeral on May 3rd was also well attended. To be able to celebrate those liturgies with a choir and a full church, a fitting send off for his wonderful parents, was a gift, indeed. Otherwise he would have been sitting in a practically empty church with only a few family members.

Much excitement would await him in the months and years that would follow! The building of the foundation supporting Good Shepherd would take Delvaux and Raible to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and the small Cathedral of Bishop Carlos Duarte Costa. The controversial nature of this ministry would lead to various scenarios of loyalty and betrayal, yet the conviction of the people and clergy of Good Shepherd that its existence is in response to God’s will has not wavered.

There were so many loose ends in the life on one Brian Delvaux in the spring of 1994. Recently "orphaned" and standing at the helm of a one-year-old parish, several issues plagued his mind. It had now been three years since divorce ended his marriage. He held the resulting personal devastation in common with other Roman Catholics who had not only lost a spouse but also an intact family and many of their friends. He could only imagine how much more painful it would be for him if, like most Catholics, he had lost the support of his church as well.

"God hates divorce. Jesus hates divorce. The Church hates divorce, and the divorced hate divorce," explains Delvaux. "Good Shepherd is not about being soft on divorce. It is about being forgiving." The many couples who sought out Good Shepherd Church where they not only celebrated their marriage ceremony, but also felt the pastoral concern of the priests who helped them prepare, found the experience to be healing. While he considered the tragedy of his own divorce to be the deepest experience of failure in his life, it bestowed upon him the ability to accept and empathize with the people whom he served.

By the time Father Brian celebrated the first Mass at Good Shepherd Church, he had come full circle. He was once again a celibate priest, providing a rather conventional Catholic ministry with two small exceptions; Phillip and Tracy, his children. Exceptional also was the hospitable discipline that allowed him to welcome many Catholics back to the Sacraments after having been excluded. Among the earlier mentioned loose ends which characterized his life in 1994 were the question of his own possible re-marriage, the horrifying thought of loosing his bishop, the more horrifying thought that he himself might have to be Paul Raible’s successor, and the quandary of how someone more qualified might step into that role if no other priests were to join the presbyterate of the tiny "diocese."

Well, just when Father Brian decided to remain celibate, a parishioner introduced him to Lynn, who was not only perfect for him but also perfect for the parish. They married on January 27th, 1995, and Delvaux learned that even though the Roman Catholic Church sees divorce as tolerable and remarriage as an evil, the reverse is true. The following July found Bishop Paul Raible, Father Brian and Lynn Delvaux in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil "checking out" the Independent Catholic Church founded 50 years before by a Roman Catholic Bishop who opposed Pope Pius XII and his policy of neutrality during World War II. Bishop Carlos Duarte Costa’s church serves tens of thousands of people in the largest Catholic country in the world! The Americans invited two of the Brazilian Bishops to come to America and participate as co-consecrators of Brian Delvaux on October 1, 1995.

Talk about tying up loose ends! All Good Shepherd Church needed now were some priests to help bring in the harvest! Enter Father Armando Leyva from the Roman Catholic Diocese of Chihuahua, Deacon Jack Kearney of the Congregation of the Mission, and Father Mariano Tomaszewski, a Franciscan waiting to be incardinated into the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.