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August 19, 2023By Michael R. Heinlein, OSV News
Cardinal Francis E. George, O.M.I., archbishop of Chicago from 1997 to 2014, once argued that we “need to become ever clearer and more intentional about how we are to witness to the Lord and give him glory through the offering of our lives, the joining of our self-sacrifice to his.”
In the Eucharist, the sacrament of charity, the Lord of love models for us what real loving looks like: making an oblation of our lives for the life of the world. And, for those of us who believe and take seriously our call to share in this, we are wise to find and learn from those who live this way.
I have long seen Cardinal George himself as such a model, especially as he illustrates so clearly that suffering has a purpose -- how it is transformative and life-giving when joined to Christ’s in the Eucharist.
When George was 13 years old, he contracted polio. The once active boy was left greatly changed, and his lasting disability resulting from the disease meant that he would not be admitted to holy orders in his home archdiocese of Chicago. But God accepts the gifts offered by a pure and humble heart and makes use of them. He was ordained a priest for the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in 1963. Much to his surprise, he was named a bishop in 1990 and became one of the most influential American bishops of the last century, known for his brilliance and wisdom, leadership and authentic discipleship.
While the effects of polio changed the plans he had for his life, George regarded it as a gift in the end, because his disability taught him how to live like Christ. He didn't just find unity with Christ in his suffering, but also in making an offering of his life for the good of others.
As a teenager, he was in the hospital for months, and his roommate would find George looking up at the Cross. He was learning then, as ought we all, that our lives should be an oblation that finds meaning through the hope found in Christ and his sacrifice. This was the school where he learned that the cross is the means to true loving.
Years later, when asked about his legacy at the end of his time as archbishop, George diverted the question back to Christ.
“At some point, Christ will question me: ‘What have you done with my people? Are they holier because of your ministry? Are they more generous? More loving toward others?’ In short, you are my legacy.”
It fascinates me that George himself wanted only to be remembered as a conduit for Christ’s action in the Church and the world, and in this he was successful. Many are the stories I have heard about this truth. He was a friendly voice on the phone for someone in the hospital. A shepherd for a priest who needed one. An advocate for the victims of clergy sexual abuse. A prophet who could articulate the signs of the times and call God’s people to conversion. A friend who gave a troubled parishioner his private phone number when she had no one else to talk to. A neighbor who spoke to you as if you were the only person who mattered. A cardinal who could provide the leadership his brother bishops needed. A man of suffering who nonetheless daily offered himself to Christ for the good of others.
Through pain, suffering and sacrifice, George persevered and made an offering of his life for others. This is Eucharistic living.
Cardinal George once observed that at each Mass “the center of the universe is on this altar, and that’s what keeps us all going.”
Is that what keeps us going? It’s certainly what kept Cardinal George going as he persevered to love like Christ. Which is precisely what enabled him to live as he once taught, with the understanding that “The only thing we take with us when we die is what we have given away.”