Meanwhile, the rest of the world - and the archdiocese - go on. Prayers go up to God - God’s grace comes down. But a period of sickness is a rare time, especially for an archbishop.

First, of course, are the things one cannot do. I have not been able to offer Mass for you since Christmas. So I must depend upon the Masses of our priests, and upon the great body of sacrifices being celebrated all over. It is a fine preparation for the revived concept of the concelebration of Mass; it is not our personal Mass; it is our part in the Mass. But Christ has so built the Church that the bishop’s Mass is the Mass - ideally at the Cathedral surrounded by his priests and people, with the graces and blessings extending to every corner of the archdiocese. So I won’t be happy until I am able to be among you again, as I was Christmas Day, offering Mass at the Cathedral, St. Anthony’s, and Sacred Heart.

But I am able to receive Holy Communion most mornings, and Father James Murray, S.M., has been most faithful. Father John Stapleton of St. Jude’s, who was a patient here, brought the Communion one day also. Then there are my prayers and what reading I can do.

It’s easy to meditate, too. Old Father Ephrem, the Trappist monk, died in his nineties, and this is pause for thought. What a number of years to give to God! Theirs is a complete surrender. The expressive photographs in the Atlanta Magazine for Christmas brought out the clean and total beauty of their lives. What a privilege to have them in our midst.

Your Part

I appreciate so much your prayers, especially the children’s and those who are sick. I cannot acknowledge them all, except in my own prayers, nor the beautiful flowers, and gifts, and remembrances.

Your willingness to stand by, - to keep the profile of the archdiocese intact, - to continue the ferment of Christ’s Kingdom in the parishes and schools and missions - these are the things that make an archbishop sit up and take notice - even in a hospital bed. May God bless you, and give you and yours every grace.

St. Joseph’s

Yesterday, there was a luncheon meeting of the Hospital’s Advisory Board, a group of Atlanta’s outstanding citizens. Since my appetite is quite limited, and I must stay in bed, I could not attend, but they were kind enough to send up a delicious meal which I could admire anyhow. I sent them a brief note.

In the note, I mentioned it was one thing to know the hospital as an archbishop or a citizen - but quite another to know it as a patient. Tests and blood counts come alive. Doctors and nurses and specialists are not just names, but persons who restore your health. The army of aides and orderlies is not just a list, but kind, compassionate persons who help you. And like a golden thread through it all is the small band of Mercy Sisters. What would the world of the modern hospital be without these devoted and quiet nuns?

Somber

This column sounds, as I reread it, rather grim. It is not meant to be. After three extremely difficult weeks, everything began to pick up, and now as January comes to a close, I am ready to resume much of my work.

So I will close with a word of thanks to all of you, and especially to the band of priests who have carried on the difficult days. The pastors, and especially the consultors; the vicar-general, and chancellor and vice-chancellor - all of them. I do not mention them by name, lest I omit, but each knows in his heart of hearts, how crucial and how trying it can be to work in these circumstances.

Paul J. Hallinan

Archbishop of Atlanta