I was glad to accept the cardinal’s invitation because the Archdiocese of Chicago has so many impossible needs and challenges that sometimes I get the feeling that it “eats its priests.” So, anything I might do for them and Cardinal Bernadin, whom I had long admired, would be a privilege for me.
I also had two other positive and rather self-serving reasons for going. First, Chicago is one of my favorite cities. The people are great and I just can’t get over a large, bustling city that actually has a beach bordering its downtown area. In addition, I was publishing a new book and thought the cardinal might be willing to write a brief pre-review for it if I asked him while I was there.
So, when I arrived and he greeted me with the statement that he was grateful I could take the time to help him out, I saw my opportunity. After I mentally looked up at the sky and said thank you, I asked if he would be willing to write a brief pre-review for my new book Seeds of Sensitivity. He said he would be glad to consider it and that I should send him a copy of the manuscript.
When I later gave my talk on the simple care of a hopeful heart to the priests, I could see in their weary faces as well as in the cardinal’s that they were grateful. You could see that the priests were genuinely appreciative that someone truly believed in them and was suggesting some simple ways they could keep their energy alive. Also, the cardinal had just been unjustly accused of sexual abuse and was undergoing great stress as well.
After the presentation the cardinal strode up to me and was obviously pleased. Smiling he said, “Bob, that was really good!” I looked back at him, and teased him, “Well, you don't have to sound so surprised, cardinal.” To which he laughed and added, “No. No kidding! It really was good.” He then quickly added, “You are going to send me that manuscript aren’t you?” “Yes, if it is ok, I’d like to.”
To which he responded, “Not only am I willing to do it. It would be an honor.”
Later that day in the Chicago airport, I called and asked that a copy of the manuscript be sent to him. Then I went to Guatemala for a week’s work.
Upon my return to my office, much to my surprise, already sitting on my desk was the cardinal’s review and a cover letter. In it he said, “Enclosed is the review. I hope it is all right. But I want to tell you a little secret. Usually when people send me these manuscripts I have my theologian read them first and draft a comment to which I can disagree or agree and add my name. But in your case I want to assure you that I read every word.”
Later in the year we had hoped to meet at my home in suburban Baltimore for dinner and some good conversation. However, he got sick and died soon after and so it never happened. But I have never forgotten his warm gesture to me.
I must admit that in my life, when I recall my successes, it makes me happy. I get a kick out of them. When I look at my accomplishments, I feel a similar response. I’ve worked really hard for everything so I am proud of any achievements I have been blessed to attain. However, it is during my failures that I feel things in the deepest way and have discovered the most lasting lessons. One of them is the value of small gestures of kindness and the need to resurrect them to support you when all seems lost.
The kind words and gestures of others are like buried treasure that we can find whenever we need the golden encouragement and presence of goodness in the world. They help us regain perspective when all seems dark. Isn’t it great that we have such treasures in our lives? Blessed with the gift of memory, we can light candles to illumine the darkness that is an inevitable part of life. Shouldn’t we seek to avail ourselves of this gift more often when things get difficult?
(This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)
