BY KATHI STEARNS

Staff Writer

CHICAGO--As he gazes out the window of his historic brick residence, Cardinal Joseph Bernardin looks forward to the day when he can resume his regular activities, including early morning walks in the brisk Chicago winds which blow in off the lake.

This winter has been a period of prescribed rest for the 67-year-old prelate, a self-described workaholic who was ordered to rest in December after doctors discovered a lumbar compression fracture of two vertebrae in his lower back.

According to Cardinal Bernardin, the injury is related to treatment he received for pancreatic cancer in June 1995.

"These fractured vertebrae are indirectly related to the cancer," he said in a March 1 interview with The Georgia Bulletin. "The two fractured vertebrae are in the field that was radiated after the cancer surgery. That weakened them."

His thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of the residence doorbell; his weekly chemotherapy shot has arrived to be administered at 4 p.m. that afternoon.

Even though pancreatic cancer is one of the most aggressive and deadliest forms of cancer with an overall five-year survival rate of 20 to 25 percent, the cardinal continues to accentuate the positive.

"I'm happy to say that the last MRI, which was taken Feb. 12, indicates that I'm still cancer free," he said. "I remember being told that my chances of living five years were only one in four or five. But since then the doctors have indicated to me that my chances are much better than that since the cancer was discovered before it was able to metastasize or spread to other parts of my body. The prospects for my complete recovery are quite good.

"But I know that an aggressive type of cancer like this can come back, and so I'm prepared for that. For the moment my focus is on what I should be doing for the Church and the archdiocese for the next few years, because my hope is that I will be around. But I'm also prepared if that is not the case."

His clothing attests to a 20-pound weight loss since the removal of his right kidney and 40 percent of his pancreas during seven hours of surgery last June.

The months since "have not been easy," he said. "I knew I had to (become less physically active) to get over this back problem. But at the same time I tried to stay in touch with the archdiocese and work on my newfound cancer ministry."

The cardinal has experienced in a very personal way the chaos that cancer can bring into daily life. "What I had considered a healthy body was actually housing an aggressive cancer," he said. "For the first time in my life I truly had to look death directly in the face."

The nights have been especially long, a time for fears to surface. "I sometimes found myself crying in the middle of the night, not really knowing what I was crying about. I would wake up in the middle of the night wondering if the doctors got all of the cancer. Was I going to survive? How much pain was I going to have to endure? I had to put myself in the hands of the Lord and simply surrender."

"When you come face to face with death, you see things in a new light and perspective," the cardinal said. "This whole experience has made it easier for me to make a distinction between what is really important and what is not. And the only truly important thing is your relationship with the Lord."

A man of devout faith, he relied on his relationship with Jesus to find the healing that only faith in the Lord can bring. "I prayed like I've never prayed before that I would have the grace and courage to face whatever was ahead of me," the cardinal said.

"Throughout this journey I have experienced an intimacy with the Lord I've never experienced before. I've long been a man of faith and prayer, but there is always room for us to learn and grow. I think that this experience has caused me to grow in my relationship (with the Lord) and for that I am very grateful."

Throughout the long days and nights the cardinal said that he would have been lost if prayer were not a part of his everyday life. "There were times (during the illness) that I knew my faith was secure, but I found that I lacked the energy and focus to pray in the way that is typical for me," he said. "It was during that time that I realized how important it is for everyone to have an established daily prayer life. If you don't pray when you're well, you may not be able to pray when you're really sick," he said.

His illness also has given him a solidarity with others facing similar diagnoses. On his chemotherapy and radiation days he would often be found with his fellow patients in the waiting room, comforting and praying with them. Fearing that he was exhausting himself, his doctors tried to persuade him to enter the treatment center through a side door.

"I told them I'm a priest first and a patient second," he said. "This experience has made it possible for me to minister to others in a special way. In the past I didn't know how to talk to them. Now I instinctively know how to do it because I've been through it myself. I guess you could say I have gained a certain credibility."

Even when doctors restricted him to his residence, he has written notes and made telephone calls to other people with cancer.

"Currently I'm in touch with over 350 cancer patients," he said. "They have all received a note, or a phone call or a visit or a combination of those things. Almost everyday I am contacted by people who are seeking prayers or advice on behalf of family or friends who are suffering from cancer. I have received hundreds of calls."

Despite the intensity of this experience, it has been easier to deal with than the crisis he faced in 1993 when publicly accused of sexual misconduct, the cardinal said.

Allegations by a former Cincinnati seminarian, Steven Cook, that have since been disproved, were widely publicized, and Cardinal Bernardin says he felt embarrassed before the world. "Everyone knew about the accusations before I even had a chance to see the suit."

The first report aired on CNN only minutes after Cook filed a lawsuit in the U.S. District Court in Cincinnati. CNN used the story to promote a one-hour special on sexual abuse by clergymen that aired two days later.

"I was totally humiliated by the accusations that traveled around the world in a matter of seconds," Cardinal Bernardin said. "Even though I received a tremendous amount of support, there were some people who didn't like the Church or didn't like me who almost instantaneously believed that I was guilty. While I knew I was innocent, I also knew that if these allegations were not cleared up and cleared up quickly, that my effectiveness as the archbishop of Chicago would be severely undermined."

Unlike a diagnosis of cancer, which is a condition not affecting his credibility, the accusations of sexual misconduct called into question the very safety of the people entrusted to his care, he noted.

"We all know that disease is part of the human condition," he said. "While there is a certain anxiety about what is going to happen with the cancer, my reputation, my integrity and my ability to lead people is still intact. It is more painful to have your integrity challenged, especially in such a way."

The Friday morning the suit was filed, he went to the chapel in his residence and spent an hour in prayer. As he recited the rosary, he began to reflect upon the first sorrowful mystery, "The Agony in the Garden."

"It suddenly dawned on me that this is what the Lord went through when he was in the garden," Cardinal Bernardin said. "He knew that he was in deep trouble and that his life was at stake. At the same time it created a certain amount of anxiety in him. So he prayed to his father and committed himself to his father's plan. That day I understood that particular mystery better than I had ever understood it before. I knew that terrible things were going to happen, but I didn't know how they'd play out or what the ultimate outcome would be. So I put myself in the hands of the Lord and said, 'You have to take care of me,' and he did."

As he began to defend himself against the $10 million lawsuit, the cardinal voluntarily submitted to an archdiocesan review process he had helped draft in 1992 for accusations of clerical sexual misconduct in the Chicago archdiocese. While he continually asserted his innocence, Cardinal Bernardin stressed the fact that no one is exempt from the process that was in place.

"Fortunately, before this happened, I had developed a special protocol as part of the overall process as to how it should be handled in case I was accused," Cardinal Bernardin said. "I have always taken the position that we must be very objective once an accusation is made. Every allegation must be taken seriously. The review board is designed to investigate all of the facts and statements and determine if abuses have occurred so they can be dealt with in an honest and straightforward manner. But the review board is also supposed to determine if the accusations are not correct or lack credibility."

The cardinal believes the allegations made against him demonstrate how easy it is for a person's reputation to be unjustly damaged before due process can take place. This experience "showed me firsthand that not every accusation that is made is true, and that people should withhold judgment until the process has been completed and a determination has been made."

Throughout the ordeal the support he received was overwhelming and a source of encouragement to him in his darkest hours, he said.

"I decided on my own that I would not spend any church funds to defend myself," he said. "Seven or eight law firms came forward and said they would represent me on a pro-bono basis. I considered that a tremendous expression of support. I felt that if there was any doubt about my innocence in the minds of these law firms, they would not have offered their services."

As a result of this experience the cardinal said he gained a greater understanding of what a person who is falsely accused must endure financially.

"When it was over, I asked (the law firm) if I had to pay the going rate to defend myself what the cost would have been. They told me that my defense would have cost over half a million dollars."

He was encouraged at the time by an invitation to visit Pope John Paul II in January 1994, by the support of the majority of the media and the "outpouring of love and support" from people in every city in which he had lived and worked.

In February 1994, at Cook's request, the court dismissed all claims against Cardinal Bernardin.

"My prayers were answered," he said. "I was totally vindicated; there was no longer a cloud of suspicion surrounding me. I knew of my innocence and I had faith in the system."

In December 1994, at the cardinal's initiative, Cook, who was battling AIDS, and Cardinal Bernardin met in Philadelphia to reconcile.

"The reconciliation that took place was two-fold," he said. "There was the reconciliation between the two of us which didn't take very long; then there was the reconciliation between Steven and the Church. He was very angry with the Church and felt quite alienated. God used me as his instrument in helping him overcome those feelings of isolation and betrayal. He was able to die a beautiful death."

Before Cook died he called and wrote the cardinal to say he was praying for him during his time of illness.

"I still pray for Steven daily," Cardinal Bernardin said. "And I thank the Lord for letting me be his instrument in that instance."

He rises to pray every morning at 5:15 a.m. because it is the only time during the day that there are no appointments or phone calls.

"As much as I dislike getting up that early, it is the only time I'm totally free to spend time with the Lord without any interruptions," the cardinal said.

"About 18 years ago when I was archbishop of Cincinnati I came to the realization that I was encouraging others to pray, but I was so involved in my ministry that I wasn't praying very much myself," he continued. "I remember sharing this dilemma with some young priests I had just ordained. I guess I expected them to say that they understood. But they didn't let me off the hook. Instead they told me I had better do something about it if I intended to develop my relationship with the Lord."

Cardinal Bernardin says it was then he determined his best opportunity for uninterrupted prayer was in the early morning. "I find that if I give that first hour of the day to the Lord, it has a positive effect on the rest of the day," he said. "Because I give the Lord that time I am able to stay in his presence no matter how the day unfolds."

His hour includes the Liturgy of the Hours, some time for mental prayer, silent reflection and meditation and recitation of the rosary.

Like most people the cardinal said that there are mornings when he finds himself battling outside distractions. "There are those days when my mind wanders and I start to daydream or problem-solve some of the ongoing situations at the office," he said. "I used to feel that when that happened I was not using my time with the Lord well. But I've learned that what's important is that I faithfully give him that time each day. And most importantly I do that by refusing to give that time to anyone else."

As leader of Chicago's 2.6 million Catholics the cardinal found it all too easy to get distracted by the multitude of decisions that must be made. "I have to keep reminding myself that even though these administrative responsibilities are essential, they do not replace my primary mission. I am first and foremost a priest who ministers to people and preaches the Gospel. I'm a pastor first and an administrator second."

He traces his faith and the formation of his Catholic identity to his mother, Maria Simion Bernardin, who supported him and his sister, Elaine, by working as a seamstress, sewing army uniforms, during the Depression. The cardinal's father, Joseph, an Italian stonecutter, died when the cardinal was 6. The family grew up in South Carolina where Catholics were less than 0.5 percent of the population.

After completing a year of pre-med studies at the University of South Carolina on scholarship, he decided that he wanted to enter the seminary. "My mother couldn't understand why I had made this decision so quickly," he said. "She was concerned that I had made a premature decision. Since we didn't have a lot of money, she worried that if my decision were short-lived, I would lose the scholarship. I admit that I didn't have a lot of well thought-out reasons why I wanted to be a priest; I just knew that God was calling me. Once she saw this was really my vocation she was very happy and truly supportive."

In 1952 he was ordained for the Diocese of Charleston, S.C., where he served under Bishop Paul Hallinan who was later appointed the first archbishop of Atlanta.

When Archbishop Hallinan was infected with hepatitis in December 1963, following a trip to Rome for a session of the Second Vatican Council, Bishop Bernardin was named auxiliary bishop of Atlanta. At 38 he was the youngest bishop in the U. S.

"I had a great respect and affection for Archbishop Hallinan," the cardinal said. "He was my one of my mentors. I had the privilege to work with him in Charleston and then assist him again in Atlanta. At the time the diocese was very small. Normally there would not have been a need for an auxiliary bishop, but because of his health I was appointed. I was happy to be able to join him and spend some time with him before his death. He was truly a man of vision."

As the sun begins to set his eyes again gaze out the window as he watches a mother take her child for a walk and two teens roller-blade in front of his residence. A radiant smile crosses his face.

"Hopefully I can continue to serve my Lord and his Church in whatever lies ahead."