Shortly after the death of Cardinal Joseph Bernardin, Archbishop of Chicago, last November, Msgr. James Mahoney of New Jersey penned an eloquent tribute to him. In his church newsletter, Mahoney called Cardinal Bernardin the "most influential bishop in the history of the Catholic Church in our country." As a rabbi, I believe that Msgr. Mahoney’s assessment of Cardinal Bernardin is fully accurate.

With the passing of Cardinal Bernardin, our country is bereft of a towering religious leader, for he demonstrated human greatness in unparalleled ways. For example, three years ago, Steven Cook, a former Catholic seminarian, accused Cardinal Bernardin of sexually abusing him. Cook claimed this abuse had occurred several years before, when Bernardin was the Archbishop of Cincinnati. Cook’s attempt to blemish the Cardinal’s exceptional ministry and personal integrity failed. Throughout the hearings, Cardinal Bernardin calmly, but firmly, denied these charges. Later, Cook himself admitted that these accusations were false, and the Cardinal then forgave him. A year later, Cook was dying of AIDS. Cardinal Bernardin, bearing no malice toward him, conducted a special Mass for Cook. He also anointed him in an act of dramatic reconciliation.

Though the Cardinal absolved Cook, I am sure that the trauma of Cook’s defamation extensively damaged Bernardin’s sense of well-being. In fact, less than six months later, the Cardinal was diagnosed with cancer of the pancreas. For several months, the Cardinal had thought that he would remain in remission. However, last August, he received the devastating blow. His physicians informed him that the cancer cells were now devouring his liver. They declared his case to be terminal and predicted that he had less than a year to live.

Rather than succumb to self-pity and despair, Cardinal Bernardin followed the Rabbinic admonition of living each day as though it were his last. He invested every second of his waking hours with profound meaning and significance. He pledged to use whatever time was left to benefit other priests and those people whom he was called to serve.

Cardinal Bernardin chose to die a public death. He was open and honest about the dying process throughout these last months of his life. In fact, on the day before he died, he saw the edited manuscript of his memoir, called The Gift of Peace. In it, he dealt candidly with his preparations for death. He noted that when people are ill, they tend to turn inward and to focus on their own pain and suffering. They start to feel sorry for themselves and become despondent.

With his intense religious faith, he suggested that we do the opposite- that we think of others and their needs. He lived by his words. For example, he periodically went to Loyola University Cancer Center, now named after him, for chemotherapy. With his characteristic humility, he insisted that he was just an ordinary priest and not to be shown special favors as a top-ranking cleric of the Church. Therefore, he always refused to use the private entrance of the clinic that was reserved for him. Furthermore, he never left the clinic without visiting the other patients. He often followed up his visits with telephone calls, letters, and additional visits. He even made time to call on the parishes throughout the Archdiocese to anoint the sick.

Cardinal Bernardin was not only a compassionate pastor. He was also a master bridge builder. He was able to reconcile fundamental differences among high Church officials and to heal the rifts between the left and the right in the Church hierarchy. What is especially noteworthy is that the Jewish community of Chicago adored and revered Cardinal Bernardin. He committed himself to strengthening relations between Catholics and Jews, from the moment that he arrived in Chicago in the 1980's. He established a guest lecture series on issues affecting Catholic-Jewish relations. He oversaw the introduction of Holocaust studies in all schools throughout the Archdiocese.

Of special note was his visit to Israel in March, 1995. It was his only trip there. Accompanying him were seven Chicago Jewish leaders, among whom were three rabbis. Two of them, Rabbi Herbert Bronstein and Rabbi Peter Knobel, were Beldon Fellows at our congregation in years past. While in Israel, the Hebrew University of Jerusalem conferred an Honorary Fellowship on the Cardinal.

His address on that occasion was courageous and bold. He chose to speak out against anti-Semitism from the Catholic perspective. He noted that, in recent years, the Catholic Church has undertaken important efforts to overcome its anti-Jewish past. It has acknowledged its guilt for its legacy of hostility toward Jews and Judaism. It has repudiated as sinful, any remaining messages of that legacy in contemporary Catholic teaching and practice.

He also freely admitted that the Nazis would not have enjoyed the popular support that they did, had it not been for the continuing influence of traditional Christian anti-Semitism on the masses of baptized believers in Europe. He mentioned Hitler’s oft-quoted remark to church leaders who came to see him to protest his treatment of Jews. He told them that he was merely putting into practice what the churches had preached for nearly 2,000 years.

The Cardinal noted that since the Second Vatican Council, the Church’s antagonism toward the Jewish people and the Jewish religion has lost its religious foundations. Yet, he insisted that much more needs to be done. There are still New Testament texts read during Holy Week that contain anti-Jewish teachings. Their poisonous effects need to be neutralized by extensive commentaries and sensitive translations.

Though he did not mention Pope Pius XII by name, he also said that the Church must now be prepared to deal frankly and candidly with the genuine failures of some leaders of the Church during the Nazi era. The Church must be prepared to submit its World War II records to a thorough scrutiny by respected scholars. Reflecting on the history of anti-Semitism and Holocaust, he concluded his address by insisting that the Church must now engage in an act of public repentance for its anti-Semitic past.

After leaving Israel, Cardinal Bernardin continued to maintain close ties with the seven Jewish leaders who had joined him there. In fact, a few weeks before his death, he requested that these seven come together at the Holy Name Cathedral for a memorial observance.

So on the day before the funeral, these seven Jewish officials, with the Cardinal lying in state a few feet from the podium, paid him a fond farewell. They reflected on his enormous contribution to Christian-Jewish understanding and urged continued support for the exemplary dialogue efforts that he led.

With Cardinal Bernardin’s death, we have lost a great friend of the Jewish people. May his memory be a blessing. Amen.

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