(Editor's Note: Father Theodore Marszal is presently in residence in Saint Mary Seminary, Cleveland, Ohio, and working on his doctoral dissertation for the Institute for Spirituality, Georgian University, Rome. The topic being "The Spirituality of Paul J. Hallinan, Archbishop of Atlanta.")

"Archbishop Hallinan Taught Us How To Die Graciously"

It has been 10 years since this caption appeared in The Atlanta Constitution as one of the tributes to Paul J. Hallinan, the late Archbishop of Atlanta. His untimely death on March 27, 1968, after a lengthy struggle with hepatitis was characterized by one of the sisters who had cared for him:

"His real vocation was not in liturgy, or ecumenism, or in race relations. His vocation was to suffer and to show to his priests and people the example of a true Christian who bears his cross with dignity and joy."

Many who knew the archbishop still remember his wit, his smile, and his unique ability to bring life into a room. The last few months of his life seemed to capture and summarize the unique character of the man named Paul J. Hallinan.

Ever since his initial bout with hepatitis in late December, 1963, the archbishop found himself plagued by the illness. It limited his movement but not his activity nor his ability to write. By the middle of January, 1968, the wearied Hallinan was forced to return to the hospital, where he had spent considerable time over the past few years. His duties as Ordinary of Atlanta were now being shared by his new young auxiliary, Joseph L. Bernardin. Those near the ailing Hallinan witnessed a man with a vision of the future who had a will to live and at the same time a growing realization that his death was imminent as his physical condition worsened.

During those final months, his love for those who touched his life found expression in several ways. He made many calls to his friends throughout the United States. (I am sure some thought that the archbishop must have been a major stockholder in the telephone company.) He said to many, "I will be crossing over pretty soon, but it was a glorious journey." To one friend, the ever-present Hallinan wit could be seen when he said, "I'm only being kept alive now by prayer and cortisone, and I don't know how much longer the cortisone will work."

In addition to the use of the telephone, the archbishop called many to his room both at home and in the hospital. He talked to his priests and asked for their blessing and, if warranted, their forgiveness. To those aspiring to the priesthood, he offered encouragement and support. He conversed with his many friends from all walks of life. His interest in ecumenism brought priests and ministers of other Christian communions who came to pray with him and through his promptings to bless him. His brother with his wife and children and their many cousins were also present to offer support and encouragement. Whoever it was, the archbishop invoked one of his many rules of thumb -- "Enter laughing and exit laughing."

A vivid example of his sense of joy is seen in an incident that occurred when he was released from the hospital in February, 1968. He asked to have a "farewell party." At first, those close to him did not quite understand the request. But in his openness to all situations, he just wanted to enjoy, for one more time, the company of his chancery staff and relatives who were in Atlanta. He received his wish and had a party at his residence. As the party favors and hats were passed to the guests, the archbishop sat at the end of the table with his captivating smile enjoying and sharing the company of those present with conversation and song. Through it all, that infectious smile never left his face. As one of the guests later remarked, "You didn't know whether to laugh or cry."

With his own active involvement in the liturgical renewal, his illness afforded him the opportunity to make use of the renewed rite of concelebration. This was often done with Bishop Bernardin who described one of the Masses as follows:

"Because of his weakness, he (Hallinan) lay in bed, but this did not stop him from preaching a beautiful homily on the Eucharist and what it meant to him personally. Those of us who were in the room were moved to tears. That one demonstration of faith did more for me and my appreciation of the Eucharist than all the articles he had written and all the talks he had given."

The archbishop continued his pastoral duties even from his sick bed. In early March, he called a group of his seminarians to his room. It was there he celebrated the liturgy in which he conferred tonsure on one candidate and minor orders to two others. He used the opportunity to stress the dignity of the priesthood and prayed for priestly perseverance. Even in his weakened condition, he was able to remark before the ceremony, referring to the ornate jeweled miter he was wearing, "Shades of triumphalism, I guess, but it's the only one that fits!"

In these final days, the habits of prayer developed over the years by the archbishop continued to sustain him. The rosary was always near his person and, when he was able, he prayed it. There was also a picture of the Sacred Heart, which had belonged to his mother, hanging on his bedroom wall. He once said to Bishop Bernardin as he pointed to the picture, "That is where it all is, Jesus."

Archbishop Hallinan, like most of us, struggled with the acceptance of death. In a letter, which he wrote to Bishop Bernardin during one of his stays in the hospital, we see in his own words, the growing acceptance of God's will:

"Our last two conversations have brought me a serenity that I have lacked. Since you know me so well, this does not require another statement … I am as determined and probably as stubborn as ever; with the same lack of fear of consequences … the same will to live coupled (I hope) with a Christian acceptance of death. I'm not sure whether this acceptance includes suffering, pain, remorse, rejection, or disorientation."

The only time he did panic was on one or two occasions when he experienced a lack of bodily control because of the medication that had been administered to him.

As the archbishop became visibly weaker, he returned to the hospital on March 23. Desiring to return home, he left the hospital for the last time, two days later. On leaving he asked one of the sisters who had cared for him during most of his hospital stay, "Am I going to live?" The words so impressed her because they were filled with such a spirit of hope.

Having returned home, the archbishop did not stop planning or thinking. He actually tried to dictate a talk he was to give at the National Catholic Educational Association Convention later in the month, but he was too weak to articulate his thought. Bishop Bernardin characterized the final hours of March 27 in these words:

"During the 12 hours preceding his death, even though he was in a coma, he kept calling the name of Jesus and this was the last word on his lips when the last breath of life slipped from him just before dawn Wednesday."

Even though his earthly pilgrimage had ended, Archbishop Hallinan continued to teach through his funeral liturgy at Christ the King Cathedral. At the time, Atlanta and St. Louis were the two American cities chosen for experimentation with the new funeral rite. The once somber service for the dead was recast into a feast of joy recalling the hope-filled glory of resurrection. Thus, even in death, Archbishop Hallinan continued to teach hope and joy in the Lord.

Even after 10 years, his dynamic spirit is remembered and cherished by those who knew and loved him. The present Archbishop of Cincinnati, Joseph L. Bernardin, publicly stated recently that the example of Paul J. Hallinan truly made more of an influence on him than his childhood or seminary life. In the numerous contacts I have made with the people who knew Paul J. Hallinan, there is always an immediate interest and willingness to share the relationship they had with him.

The thread of joy and hope can be found through his entire life. This is especially true of the few months prior to his death. Here we find a deep sense of the sacrament of the present moment. In the midst of his people, the archbishop expressed Christ's presence, something that was possible only because of his own personal union with Him.

The following words of Cardinal Newman were quoted by Archbishop Hallinan and expressed his approach to life. They are fitting words to conclude our remembering:

"He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next … I am a link in a chain -- a bond of connection between persons. Therefore I will trust Him. Whatever, wherever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness will serve Him … He does nothing in vain … He may take away my friends; he may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me … still He knows what He is about."