He put bitterness aside and set an example for us of unity, reconciliation

Detective Steven McDonald was an icon of mercy and forgiveness, a prophet of the dignity of all human life, a radiant symbol of the best of what the New York Police Department represents, a loving husband and father, and a fervent and faithful Catholic.

When he was gravely wounded in the line of duty more than 30 years ago, my predecessor, John Cardinal O’Connor, was one of the first to arrive at his hospital bedside, where he met Patti Ann, his still newlywed bride, a few months pregnant with their first child.

Their first months of marriage, when their life together seemed full of promise and hope, were shattered by the bullets from the gun of a teenager in Central Park. Steven would never again walk or breathe on his own, would never again embrace his wife or hold his soon-to-be-born child. It would have been enough to turn anyone bitter, resentful, angry at God and the world.

But not Steven McDonald. Instead, he famously forgave the young man who shot him, and even testified in his favor at his parole hearing. He became a strong advocate for peace, and spoke movingly and often on the need to show mercy to others. He gave speeches and led pilgrimages around the world. In fact, he and I were just recently discussing leading a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes in France, to bring those who were sick and injured in mind and body, and pray for their healing.

Steven was also a marvelous example of the dignity of all human life. Prior to his injury, he was a strong, strapping, young man, a proud police officer, full of energy and vigor. The future held endless possibilities for him. He lost all of that in an instant. But, at a time when, in the eyes of the world, he might have seemed weak, helpless, suffering, unable to offer anything of value to society, he showed that our worth never rests on what we can do, but in who we are, sons and daughters of a loving God who endows each of us with His image and likeness.

This was all reflected in Steven’s remarkable Catholic faith. When I visited him in the hospital this past Sunday, his room looked like St. Patrick’s Cathedral, full of people — priests, fellow cops, family members, friends — all praying for him as he lay close to death.

I was reminded of the story he once told me that, whenever he couldn’t sleep at night, he would call his local pastor and ask him to unlock their church so he could go pray. After the third