Exalting the Humble
by Fr. Roger J. Landry - March 3, 2006
There was palpable joy and hometown pride throughout our diocese last week when Pope Benedict named Archbishop Sean O'Malley a cardinal. For a decade, we were blessed by his presence as our shepherd in the faith. He arrived at a time of great turmoil and confusion, caused by the actions of a cleric who had abused rather than loved the most innocent members of the flock he had been ordained to serve. The image of the priesthood and the confidence of the faithful in the holiness of the Church were both severely wounded.
Into that setting entered a man not just from Lakewood, Ohio, or St. Thomas of the Virgin Islands, but Assisi — and some might even say Galilee.
From his first press conference, he without delay or affectation revealed the true face of the Church and of the priesthood. He showed us all that the only worthy and Christian way to respond to sin and the horrible events that had preceded his tenure was with holiness and Christ-like love. He immediately reached out to all those who had been hurt, and he kept his arms outstretched.
From the pulpit of our diocesan Cathedral, he was accustomed to preach often on the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Repeatedly quoting the Curé D'Ars, he would tell newly-ordained priests that the "priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus." That is the priesthood he has lived and tried to inspire others to live. He seems to have taken his marching orders from Christ's words, featured in the Gospel for the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart: "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart" (Mt 11:29). Many times now the Lord has placed his yoke, his cross, upon his Capuchin disciple's sturdy shoulders, and the disciple has learned from his Master the secret of humility and meekness.
The Lord has now added another yoke. For a humble man, one of the biggest crosses is exaltation; for a simple man, pomp; for a "friar minor," to be called with lofty titles like "eminence." That's why, in a statement soon after his nomination, he said that the appointment made him "uncomfortable." While some other prelates might secretly covet a red hat, Archbishop O'Malley has long dreaded it.
That might be one of the most important and intriguing aspects of his selection. Few today, in the secular world and even within the Church, would readily think "cardinal" is a synonym for "man of God." Instead, the popular image has been that the Cardinal is a "prince of the Church," a type of clerical royalty that mixes more with the rich and famous than Christ's favored poor in spirit, an ecclesiastical brahman defined more by large entourages and staffs to serve him rather than by his serving others. This caricature has been fostered not just by the conduct of Renaissance cardinals but by the behavior of certain modern ones.
Now the whole Church will be introduced to a cardinal in a simple brown habit and sandals; who has sold a Cardinal's Residence modeled on a renaissance palace to live among his priests in the heart of the inner city; who has said repeatedly that the true Christian ambition must be to "fight not for the choicest seats at table but for the towel to wash others' feet."
Like his Master, he has long been a sign of contradiction. Because of his fidelity to Christ's command to love others as Christ has loved us — seen in his ministry to prisoners, to immigrants, to the sick and those with AIDS, to the poor, to victims — many have viewed him as a liberal. Because of his fidelity to Christ's teaching, especially in areas of sexual morality, others have labeled him conservative. But he defies simplistic classification: he has sought simply to be faithful to what the Lord has asked. Perhaps the greatest paradox will be a cardinal with a knotted white rope rather than a crimson silk fascia around his waist.
The classification of cardinals is about to expand.
Father Roger J. Landry is pastor of St. Anthony of Padua in New Bedford, MA and Executive Editor of The Anchor, the weekly newspaper of the Diocese of Fall River.
