In Memoriam: Joseph Cardinal Bernardin

Have any of you ever heard of Joseph Bernardin? This isn’t a quiz; he’s not necessarily someone you should know. I’m just curious. On November 10, 1996, at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Houston I preached a sermon that drew heavily on Bernardin’s ideas and words. Four days later, on November 14, he died. Today’s sermon is entitled In Memoriam: Joseph Cardinal Bernardin. Yes, he was a Cardinal. And Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Chicago. And if it seems odd that the sermon in an Episcopal church in Brewer, Maine, should focus on the life of a Roman Catholic Cardinal from Chicago, I hope you will find it worthwhile in the end.

I really did not know much of Cardinal Bernardin, and I have hardly given him a second thought in these last seven years or so since he died. Several things have brought him to my mind recently, however, and I have found it valuable this week to review his life and ministry. It was this morning’s reading from the First Letter to the Corinthians that first reawakened my memories of Cardinal Bernardin. "Now I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose." Paul’s words are urgent and strong. Evidently there were divisions among the Christians in Corinth. We don’t know specifically what they may have been, although scholars have pieced together some pretty good ideas. But the specific disagreements don’t seem relevant. Today, or even then to Paul. Hardly has he introduced himself in this letter before he plunges into the words we heard today. And notice: He doesn’t arbitrate. He doesn’t correct one side or the other’s errors or misconceptions. He doesn’t invoke his own authority or some other church authority. He doesn’t call in conflict management consultants or organize a lengthy congregational process of dialogue and discernment. He says, "By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, be in agreement." Being united is more important than being right. And the source of that unity is Christ.

Cardinal Bernardin was in the news quite a bit in the months prior to his death. About three months earlier he had held a news conference to outline a project called the Catholic Common Ground Project. He and others launched this project seeking common ground with the hope that they might offer an environment of compassion and understanding to help overcome what Bernardin described as a time of great peril for the church as increasing polarization, and mean-spiritedness disheartened and wearied the church and undermined its witness.

"By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, be in agreement," Paul says.

We have just finished the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Friday night I went to a service at St. Theresa’s Roman Catholic Church—and as I tried to remain attentive during a very long "message" by one of my clergy colleagues (not Father Cyr of St. Theresa’s)—sitting in that Roman Catholic Church, I thought again of Cardinal Bernardin. He is reported to have said that "there is more in common [between us] than we know." More than we know. Not only are we to bear in mind the common bonds that we know we share with one another, we may be confident that the bonds of Christ that unite us are much greater even than we know or imagine. His primary concern, of course, was tension within the Roman Catholic Church, but surely the thoughts apply to relations between Christians across denominational lines. There is more in common between us than we know. The call is not for Christian uniformity, but for Christian unity, rooted in the recognition that we hold in common the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. And that is a bond certainly more powerful and more important than any human or earthly power that might appear to divide us.

Most likely most of you have little quarrel with these sorts of general calls for ecumenical understanding and unity. And perhaps the deep issues and tensions that tear at the fabric of the church—within the Roman Catholic Church, within the Episcopal Church, within most denominations today—perhaps these issues are not immediate or dynamic in your own lives. Unless you are engaged hand-to-hand or face-to-face in the debates within the church over human sexuality, the nature of the authority of Scripture, or the authenticity of charismatic experience, you don’t really need a lecture on how to seek common ground in the midst of these grave tensions. They are important issues and their threat to the unity of the church is real, but they may or may not impact your daily life as a Christian. So do St. Paul’s words and Cardinal Bernardin’s hopes have any meaning for us humble every-day sort of Christians?

What does make you feel divided or separated from your church? From the Episcopal Church? From this congregation? It happens to everyone at some point or another. What makes you feel separated from the church?  Changes in the liturgy—big or small? Discomfort with a vestry decision? Too much Jesus talk? Not enough Jesus talk? The color of the carpet? Tension in personal relationships with others in the church? Being displaced from your pew by a visitor? We have more in common than we even know, Bernardin says. "By the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, be in agreement," St. Paul says.  Be united one to another.

In this morning’s Gospel Jesus is walking by the shore of the sea of Galilee and he comes across Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John. Jesus says, "Follow me"; and the soon-to-be disciples say "yes." I like to think that Joseph Bernardin heard that same call. And in the midst of church politics and conflict sought to follow and by his words and witness help others to find Jesus’ presence, hear Jesus’ words, follow Jesus’ call in their lives.

In the months before his death, Cardinal Bernardin was also very much in the news because he spoke publicly and openly about the fact that he was dying. He had cancer. It began as pancreatic cancer and spread to his liver. At that point he knew he had less than a year to live. Some asked him why he chose to go public with information that usually would be shared only within a family. He replied that his brothers and sisters in Christ were his family. And he spoke of death as "God’s special gift to [him] at this moment in [his] life." Death, as a gift within life. "We can look at death as an enemy or a friend," he said.  "If we see it as an enemy, death causes anxiety and fear. We tend to go into a state of denial. But if we see it as a friend, our attitude is truly different. As a person of faith, I see death as a friend, as the transition from earthly life to life eternal." The book that he wrote about dying was entitled, "The Gift of Peace."

He had not always felt that way.  Evidently earlier in his life, Cardinal Bernardin once said that cancer and death were among the things he feared most in life. Even as a priest, as a bishop, he knew that heart-stopping fear of death and of the death sentence that cancer often brings. And then he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. And he was afraid. Terribly afraid, full of anguish and weeping.  Weeping every night.

And yet. In the midst of his fear and anguish somehow he heard Jesus’ words: "the kingdom of heaven is come near. Follow me." And in the midst of his fear and anguish Joseph Bernardin chose to follow. Just as he chose to follow Jesus in the midst of church conflict, he chose to follow Jesus in the midst of his personal crisis. And in that choice, in following Jesus, he came to see death as a gift… a gift that brought him great peace, a gift that brought him closer to God, a gift that indeed brought near the kingdom of heaven. And a gift that enabled him to bring comfort and hope to thousand of others threatened by terminal illness. He became unofficial chaplain to everyone in Chicago (and many beyond) with cancer, and he prayed for them, thousands of them, by name.

As I remembered Cardinal Bernardin this week I looked up my old sermon and found, to my surprise, some clippings I saved when his death was announced only days after I had spoken of him. One is a cartoon which shows God among the clouds with flowing beard looking over his reading glasses saying, "I used to think that Bernardin fellow might be good Pope material… but now I think I’ll promote him straight to saint." I doubt Cardinal Bernardin will ever be formally canonized in the Roman Catholic Church. It will be interesting to see if Mother Theresa makes it to formal sainthood. But speaking of Mother Theresa, how often have you heard someone say, "I’m no Mother Theresa." For most of us, hers was a faith and ministry that we truly cannot hope to emulate. But Joey Bernardino? He was born in a small town in South Carolina. His father was a stonecutter; his mother a seamstress. He could have been born in a small town in Maine. There was nothing unusual or exceptional about him. He did nothing that anybody couldn’t do. But one thing made all the difference in the world. When Jesus walked into his life and said, "follow me", Joseph Bernardin said "yes."

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