5/04/00 9:45 a.m.
Cardinal O'Connor, R.I.P.
He was a voice for hope, and the renewal of innocence.

By Mike Potemra, NR's deputy managing editor.

ohn Joseph Cardinal O’Connor, the Archbishop of New York, has died at age 80. For the last 16 years, he had served as spiritual leader of 2.4 million Catholics in Manhattan and its environs. In this capacity, he was a central figure in the religious life of a vibrant metropolis — and would have merited a page in the history books for this alone. But his significance transcended the particular office he held, because he represented for America the same dynamic tension incarnated on the global stage by Pope John Paul II. Like the Pope, Cardinal O’Connor was engaged in an effort to deal with the consequences of Vatican II, and build a Catholic Church which cultivates — simultaneously — a strong moral and theological orthodoxy, and an openness to modernity and pluralism.

It was a difficult task, and the Cardinal paid the price for it. He was often ridiculed as a reactionary, which says far more about our culture than it does about O’Connor himself: The media, and his opponents, emphasized his countercultural views on issues like abortion and homosexuality, as if these were the core of O’Connor as a human being. It would be closer to the truth to say that these issues are centrally important to the culture, and that’s why he felt it was his duty to talk about them, and tell the truth as he understood it (based, naturally, upon two thousand years’ worth of reflection in the Christian tradition). It was not an agenda he created, but one imposed upon him by our times.

In the context of New York Catholicism, O’Connor was, of necessity, a centrist. While he himself would certainly, and quite correctly, have objected to the division of a religious body into the highly inappropriate categories of right, left, and center, it remains true that New York is full of highly articulate people with strong agendas; and this is no less true in ecclesiastical affairs than in any other sphere. What results is a highly flammable mix of personalities, each convinced that the health of the Catholic Church depends on the widespread adoption of his or her particular style of Catholicism.

This is the tangle of thorns O’Connor faced for 16 years, and he dealt with it with great integrity and personal courage. A few months ago, I asked one of O’Connor’s critics, a New York priest with a well-deserved reputation for intellectual brilliance: If one were to ask O’Connor about your criticisms, what would he say? Why is he doing things that appear, to you, to be harmful to the Church? The priest became very pensive, and replied that the Cardinal would say he was doing his best to keep the archdiocese from flying apart completely.

A very insightful comment, that, about the charism of leadership and the duties it entails. It was out of the same sense of duty that O’Connor would speak out on abortion; he knew it would make many people, both inside and outside the Church, uncomfortable and even unhappy. But he did what he thought was right, what his love for the Church demanded of him--and he trusted in God for the rest.

One controversy early in his tenure as Archbishop says a great deal about O’Connor’s personality. He had made comments comparing abortion to the Holocaust, sparking a firestorm of criticism. He made the remarks, of course, not out of any desire to belittle the suffering of the Jews, but rather to elevate the issue of the human rights of life in the womb. It was an analogy, a strategy of communication, and it didn’t work; but O’Connor was a man who learned from his mistakes, and he didn’t let his ego get in the way of his advocacy. He had the wisdom to know that defending his own formulations of the truth was not as important as defending the truth itself. That’s one reason he was able to adapt, and become one of the most vigorous and effective pro-life advocates in America.

Another important legacy of that early controversy was his work, throughout his tenure as Archbishop, to close the gulf of misunderstanding between Catholics and Jews in New York. (A moving dialogue he conducted with Elie Wiesel was later expanded into a book, called A Journey of Faith.)

To continue learning--when you’re over 65, a Prince of the Church, and a media celebrity — bespeaks a great deal of humility. He knew that each one of us is a work in progress, and that this fact should offer all of us a great deal of hope. In 1995, he published a wonderful book called A Moment of Grace — a series of 41 sermons on the new Catechism of the Catholic Church. In the book’s sermon on chastity, he offers a metaphor which has a much broader application: "I think there is such a thing as ‘secondary virginity.’ We can let Christ pick us up, and we can start all over again….It is why Christ came to earth — to pick up the pieces of broken lives. Once we have slipped and fallen, that does not mean that the possibility of purity, of chastity, of decency, or even of a new type of virginity is over."

This was a man who lived in a broken world, and reminded us that innocence is not irrevocably lost, not for any of us. It’s a great message, but what made it so effective was his obvious humility: He knew that he personally was not the source of whatever truths he was communicating. He was, rather, the devoted servant of truths greater than himself; and in his life of service, he distinguished himself as one of the great leaders of our time.