ArcaMax

Tommy died four years ago last week. As a memorial to his memory, I include my very favorite story from our almost three decades together. The story I have told before is funny and tender and a tribute to the most kind and loving man I have ever known. God bless you, Tommy!

It was early in my friendship with Tommy Hartman, the priest. My wife Betty, who freely admits to being the only woman in the world who was married to both a rabbi and a priest, was in Houston visiting her sister. I called Tommy and asked him if he wanted to go out for a pizza and beer. He was happy to get out of his priest bunker and go.

When I picked him up and asked where he wanted to go for pizza, he said, "North Shore Hospital."

I said, "They make good JELL-O, but I don't think their pizza is that good."

He said, "There is a woman in room 402 who is dying of cancer. I want to see her and pray for her."

I was compassionate plenty during the week -- plenty -- and I was even compassionate for my congregants late on Tuesday night, but on Saturday night I needed time with Betty and friends in order to fuel up for another week of explaining how people should not blame their pain and suffering on The Boss. So, it was with some reticence that I agreed to accompany Tommy. But what can you do when your best friend is a living saint?

The woman in room 402 was alone and sitting on the edge of her bed staring blankly out the window as if in a daze. Tommy said hello and I hung out by the door. I was thinking, "Mushroom, extra cheese, onions..." OK, I admit it. I always needed work on the compassion side, but as I said before, it WAS Saturday night.

Tommy quietly and respectfully sat down on a chair next to the woman, held her hands gently in his hands, and said, "Dear, you are going to die, but you have nothing to fear because God is going to hold your soul in his hands like a little bird."

I was stunned. I had never seen such courageous honesty in talking to a dying person. My personal technique up to that evening watching Tommy, was to breeze into the room, smile and say, "Hey, how ya doin? You look great!" Tommy just went straight into the terrifying truth without hesitation and without fear. It took my breath away.

Then Tommy asked her, "Dear are you still afraid?" She was crying her eyes out and could barely blurt out the words, "Yes, Father, I am still afraid." Then Tommy calmly and lovingly repeated his little bird speech complete with the punch line, "God is going to hold your soul in his hands like a little bird." Then Tommy asked her again if she was still afraid and all she could do was nod her head and breathlessly say, "Yes." Tommy then asked her, "Why are you still afraid, dear? Why are you still afraid?"

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