The death of Timothy S. Healy, S.J., leaves us saddened for the loss of a friend and of a man who loved and served our city and our republic and, for 53 years, his church. Tim Healy died just a few months before his 70th birthday. He squeezed more life out of those 70 years than any of us could hope to match, but his loss hurts. He was larger than life and made sure that everyone in his circle came to see a little bit of what he saw -- of the possibility and hope that he had for our city and for our nation, and of the beauty and majesty he saw in God's creation. Those who ever had contact with him knew they were in the presence of a great man. Those of us who came to know him well would also tell you we knew we were in the presence of a good man.
Tim Healy shared Gerard Manley Hopkins's belief that the grace of God "rides time like a river." For Tim that river was long and cut deep through three "lands" he served: first, the "house of intellect," at three universities and one library. Second, in two cities, Washington and New York. Third, as a priest in the Roman Catholic Church.
Tim served the "house of intellect" at Fordham University, City University of New York and Georgetown University, and for the past four years as president of the New York Public Library. He believed that these institutions mattered, that we need places for the shaping of young minds. He agreed with Robert Bolt's "More" that God made man "to serve him wittily, in the tangle of his mind!" and that it is the responsibility of colleges and universities to prepare young men and women for such service. He loved Caliban's expression, one he thought best captured what a good college is:
. . . The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twanging instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked
I cried to dream again.
Tim Healy dreamed of places where young men and women could play in the complexity of their imaginations, being around elders who loved knowledge, loved ideas and lived to share them. He toiled to make Georgetown such a place.
Through the institutions he led, Tim also served their cities. He struggled mightily in these two cities for the cause of racial equality. He thought the great fault line of our republic was racism. He was convinced that our universities must provide leadership in breaking down the barriers to education for our nation's African Americans.
During Tim's tenure at Georgetown, he brought to us an awareness of the responsibility a university has to its city, a sense of responsibility honed in his years at City University. At CUNY in the late '60s, he oversaw the magnificent experiment in open admissions, providing access to higher education for all of New York's poor. The experience taught him much about this responsibility of an urban university.
At Georgetown he awakened us to the fact that the river runs through the four quadrants of our city. During his 13 years at Georgetown, we addressed a century of neglect and opened our campus to the best and brightest minority students from across the nation.
He carried this same conviction back to New York in 1989, when he returned as president of the New York Public Library. For no matter how much he loved the grandeur and splendor of the 42nd Street building and the promise it offered as a research library, his heart was always in the 82 branches spread throughout the city's neighborhoods. He recognized that they provided some neighborhoods with their only clean, quiet places for contemplation. He loved the small branches that opened their doors to New York's children, providing a respite from so much sadness and despair.
In serving these institutions and these cities, Tim Healy served his church. For all the fervor and intensity of his public life, he was first and foremost a priest. One couldn't be with him for more than a few minutes without recognizing something a little different. While he traveled in the world of high finance and black-tie dinners, there was always something that set him apart. Pious he wasn't. His language could sometimes make you wince. He was a driven man who placed great demands on himself. He was a difficult man who expected much of those around him. But there was always something consoling about his presence, a sense of security in knowing how good it was that men like Tim Healy were willing to lead.
He would say that he found his consolation in saying the Mass. He loved the liturgy of the church, its language and its beauty. I believe in the moments he celebrated the Mass, Tim Healy was most himself, most at home, most comfortable and at peace. It is difficult to think about facing a new year without him.
The writer, who studied poetry as an undergraduate student of Father Healy's and was later his assistant for three years, is associate vice president and chief administrative officer for the main campus at Georgetown University.
