Claremont McKenna College

Within a few years of earning his CMC degree, Howard Lincoln '68 already had realized a few of his college dreams. Majoring in economics landed him an investment banking job in downtown Los Angeles, a posh Bunker Hill condo, and open invitations to several of the area's private golf clubs. A Ferrari and a blonde riding shotgun would have completed the dream, he notes, smiling, had it not been for his decision to walk away from it all. "I didn't enjoy banking," Lincoln says, his jovial voice suddenly reflective. "In fact, I didn't enjoy the office. And I wasn't good at it."

But for all of Lincoln's training in economic forecasting, he could never have predicted his own road—the path to his present role of Roman Catholic priest overseeing a parish of 7,000 during the high season, in arguably one of the most affluent areas in the world. "I never thought I'd find myself here," says Lincoln, seated in his parish office. "Never. I can't emphasize that enough."

Tanned, middle-aged, and still golfing ("You'd think after 40 years I'd be really good, but sadly, I think there's a genetic defect"), Lincoln describes himself as a late bloomer in matters spiritual. He was ordained at the age of 45, partly because he went through 10 years of seminary (first Protestant, then Catholic). In his own words, he loved women, wanted to be married, and had hoped for children. "If you would have asked me at CMC if fate would take me to the Roman Catholic priesthood, or to the mafia, I would have said the mafia," he says. "There was no way in the world I was ever going to be a Catholic. I wasn't a Catholic. From 18 to 30, I literally never went to church unless I was trying to impress a girl as to what a moral, ethical human being I was," he says, laughing. "I am proof there is a god."

Lincoln calls his boyhood in the fishing village of Gig Harbor, Wash., a "Henry David Thoreau environment of woods and water skiing." Living on 100 feet of waterfront and five acres of land, Lincoln was raised in the Protestant faith. His mother respected nuns and priests, he says, but "the Catholic Church as a hierarchy was an anathema."

A short-lived marriage to his high school sweetheart was the nearest Lincoln came to starting his own family. His marital status would later precede him to the seminary. "I think I was the first divorced guy they let in," he says. " I remember a priest coming up to me and thumping my name tag. He said, "So you're Howard Lincoln.' My divorce in those days was a real hot potato."

With celebrity worshippers that included Easter visitor Dolores Hope, Sacred Heart Church and Catholic School of Palm Desert is a vigorous presence in a residential block colored with trailing bougainvillea and well-tended lawns. The church's 12-acre spread—groomed, and dotted with attractive buildings—is still growing. Lincoln produces renderings of various construction projects totaling $8 million in expansion efforts, including new classrooms, a gymnasium, soccer and football fields, and a track for the school's 450-plus students.

"While this operation is nowhere as big as many of those run by my CMC classmates," Lincoln says, "part of running a church is a business."

Beyond preparing sermons and celebrating masses, Lincoln's responsibilities range from overseeing budgets, building projects and stewardship, to dealing with weddings, annulments, divorces and funerals, and overseeing the school, for which there is a waiting list. Under his leadership, he also plans to launch singles groups for both elder- and college-aged parishioners ("There are so many singles who would love to meet somebody"), and—for every couple married under the church's roof—"I want to meet them," he says. "I don't ever want to be impersonal."

The job also requires extensive traveling, on behalf of the congregation, to solicit building funds. A recent itinerary included trips to Idaho, Montana, Colorado, and Alaska. And although it's not something he looks forward to, "These people are very gracious in supporting the church."

Under his direction the past three years, Sacred Heart's tithing and attendance have risen and, during the season, his homilies draw overflow, standing room only crowds in the 1,400-seat sanctuary.

Lincoln's time at CMC laid the groundwork for his priesthood in a significant way, he says. " It exposed me to a cosmopolitan environment that I wasn't aware of and gave me the confidence that I could compete on a reasonably high intellectual level," he says. "But also, it was the start of being able to form relationships with people—being able to handle people in a diplomatic and tactful way, and loving them."

Beyond leading the functions of a vigorous church, Lincoln was selected by the bishop in 1992 as spokesman for the Diocese of San Bernardino County, the 11th-largest in the nation. Having once interned for KNBC's The Sunday Show, Lincoln's handlings of media attention have proven unflappable, even considering his first newspaper interview on a Catholic Church sex abuse scandal. "I was kind of thrown into the fire," he recalls. A notebook in his desk catalogs reporters who since have phoned for various stories, names so crammed they're nearly illegible. "I know I've commented on a thousand articles," Lincoln says.

Peter Barker '70 P'01, CMC Board of Trustees chairman, credits Lincoln's leadership abilities as a powerful influence. "He is a tremendous communicator who inspires parishioners to reflect on the direction of their lives, their daily choices, and how they might help others," says Barker, who has attended services with his wife, Robin. "Likewise, he also is serious and practical with the right balance of humor and self-deprecation. He is not sanctimonious and he doesn't preach down to his audience. He truly leads by example."

Lincoln typically is at the church by 6:30 a.m., in preparation for the first mass; after that, it's a busy day that might include a late-morning meeting with a teacher, a wedding discussion with an engaged couple, a luncheon for a church volunteer, a visit with a cancer patient, a tour of the school grounds with donors, a counseling session, and later—at home—preparing a dinner for donors that was auctioned to benefit building projects. "I love to cook," Lincoln says.

Although amused by the contrasts between his college dreams and his adult reality, Lincoln says—in no uncertain terms—he loves his job. Some of the most profound moments, he says, surround the process of death. Recalling the circumstances of two ailing parishioners, his voice is tender. "There really are no magic words at a time like that," Lincoln says. "What that person wants is a priest's presence, someone to just listen, and to be there. And that is a privilege. It's a privilege to be a priest, simply because you get to be with people at these poignant, incredible moments in their lives.

"I think to be an effective priest, you have to really know and believe that God and heaven and Christ are not make-believe," Lincoln says. "It's a certitude that there is life beyond this life, and that anything we hear about heaven, here on this earth, pales in comparison to what we will experience.

"And if you can convey a sense of hope to people," he says, "then maybe you've done some good."

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A lesson from Lincoln's father has served him well as a Roman Catholic priest and leader: "You don't learn anything by talking. You learn by listening."