It is a remarkable story: The son of poor Italian immigrants grows up to achieve national and international recognition as one of the most influential archbishops in the Roman Catholic Church and to become a figure of respect, affection and inspiration not only for Catholics but also for many Americans who are not.
Along the way, there is the kind of drama, conflict, heartbreak, bravery and triumph that is worthy of the most engrossing novels.
Not surprisingly, the life and career of Cardinal Joseph Bernardin have provided the material for an engaging and thoughtful new television documentary.
At least that’s the opinion of Tim Unsworth, a Bernardin friend and a knowledgeable student of the Catholic Church, who last week joined a reporter in watching a preview videotape of “Bernardin,” which will air four times this month on Chicago’s two public television stations.
The first showing is at 9 p.m. Thursday on WTTW-Ch. 11. The second is at 8 p.m. Friday on WYCC-Ch. 20. WTTW will repeat the one-hour program on Monday at 8 p.m., and WYCC will show it again at 8 p.m. on July 22.
“It’s an excellent job, a very well-done show,” said Unsworth, a columnist for the National Catholic Reporter. “It covers the things in his life that I think he would have wanted to have been covered. He saw a bishop primarily as a teacher, and the documentary underscores that very well.”
Unsworth is the author of five books on the Roman Catholic Church, including “I Am Your Brother Joseph” (Crossroad), a personal remembrance of Bernardin, who died on Nov. 14, 1996.
A former teaching brother in the Catholic Church, Unsworth, 68, and his wife, Jean, a former nun who taught art for 16 years at Loyola University, became acquainted with Bernardin soon after he arrived here from Cincinnati in 1982 to head the Chicago archdiocese.
A friendship quickly developed, and as a result of their relationship, Unsworth offered insights, anecdotes and interpretations that enhanced “Bernardin.”
Throughout last week’s screening, Unsworth would halt the tape to comment, as he did after a segment about Bernardin’s appearance on the cover of Time magazine.
“One of the things I liked about Joseph was the sheer pleasure he got out of being famous,” Unsworth said. “Here he was, a poor Italian kid from Columbia, S.C., on the cover of Time, which called him the most powerful Catholic bishop in America. He loved that.”
What put him on the cover was the controversial pastoral letter on nuclear weapons that he wrote in 1983 for the National Conference of Catholic Bishops.
“The Challenge of Peace: God’s Promise, Our Response” declared that a war in which nuclear weapons were used could never be morally justified because of their indiscriminate destructiveness.
“This was the height of the Cold War, and here was Bernardin saying that our policy of nuclear deterrence was immoral,” Unsworth said. “Reagan was furious. He sent out six Catholics in his administration to attack the letter.”
Unsworth chuckled. “Bernardin was very proud of the letter, and he worked very hard on it. But it got terribly long — 45,000 words.
“I said to him, `It’s too long, Joseph. Who in hell is going to read that?’
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“He said, `Tim, you don’t understand. You go to the meetings. There’s a bishop from Iowa who wants to put a paragraph in on the effect of nuclear weapons on corn crops. If you want his vote, you put it in. It got longer and longer and longer.’ “
And then it had to be vetted in the Vatican. “John Paul had him in for an audience that lasted 45 minutes. In Rome, that’s an eternity to be alone with the pope. But John Paul loved a good discussion, and at the end, he said, `OK, Joe, print it.’ “
Bernardin considered the pastoral letter on peace his most important, Unsworth said, but Bernardin’s favorite was his pastoral letter on what he called “the consistent ethic of life,” which he likened to a “seamless garment.”
“He never dreamed that metaphor would have the impact it did, but suddenly it’s all over the place,” Unsworth said. “The seamless garment says all life is precious.”
The statement declared that all life must be protected, not only from abortion but also from capital punishment, and it went on to say that society had an obligation to feed and clothe and maintain the health of every citizen.
“Many bishops had trouble with the implications of this,” Unsworth said. “There are still loads of bishops very pro-life but also pro-capital punishment.”
A sad development at the end of Bernardin’s life, Unsworth said, was the alienation he felt from his fellow bishops, which was reflected in the Bernardin funeral.
“The funeral was a statement, a rebuke to his fellow bishops,” Unsworth said. “He was heartbroken, and he let the funeral show that. Not a single cardinal (was invited to take part in the service) except Cardinal Roger Mahony of Los Angeles, who said the mass. Mahony was the only cardinal who stuck with him.”
Two things, Unsworth said, were responsible. The first was when Bernardin accepted the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Clinton in September, 1996, two months before his death.
“He got no congratulations from his fellow bishops,” Unsworth said. “He was criticized instead for accepting the medal — because of Clinton’s stand in favor of abortion. He was very hurt. The very weekend he was getting the Medal of Freedom, the other cardinals were out protesting abortion at the Capitol. He protested with them, but he didn’t believe in that kind of in-your-face protest.”
The second thing that distanced Bernardin from other bishops, Unsworth said, was his Common Ground proposal, which sought dialogue among Catholics of differing views on the issues that were dividing the church.
“Many of his fellow cardinals publicly savaged him for Common Ground — Bernard Law in Boston, James Hickey of Washington, D.C., Anthony Bevilacqua of Philadelphia and Adam Maida of Detroit. In New York City, Cardinal John O’Connor said nothing publicly but allowed an editorial in his archdiocesan paper to attack Bernardin for the proposal.
“It is protocol for a cardinal to call a colleague before criticizing him publicly. You show respect. And his fellow cardinals did not do this. During the wonderful funeral homily by (Monsignor) Ken Velo, his closest friend, the bishops sat stone-faced. It was quite a scene.”