Indiana University School of Medicine - Caduceus Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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DR. JOHN B. HICKAM Professor and Chairman of the Department of Medicine Indiana University Medical School FUNERAL REMARKS by Dr. William H. Hudnut, III Pastor of Second Presbyterian Church at St. Luke's Catholic Church Indianapolis, Indiana February 12. 1970 We have gathered here this morning very reluctantly to pay a final tribute to one of the great men of American medicine, to ex- press our feelings of emptiness, sorrow, and loss, to surround his widow and children and other members of his family circle with our love and friendship and sympathetic concern, and to commend unto the mercy of Almighty Cod the soul of our brother departed. Dr. John B. Hickam. As Chairman of the Department of Medicine at the Indiana University School of Medicine, as a member of innumerable professional medical societies and a contributor to several professional journals, as a widely respected author and lecturer, as the recipient of many honors that came to him in recognition of his talent, his leadership, and his achievements in sophisticated medical research and teach- ing, Dr. Hickam had achieved a well-deserved national and international reputation. He was. to quote one of his colleagues, one of the few outstanding men in academic medicine in the country today. His public record is well known, although time docs not permit us to recite the many landmarks and truly significant achievements in his distinguished professional career. We have read much of that in the newspapers. Let us rather focus on the man behind the clini- cian. the person behind the teacher, the genius behind the researcher, and on those qualities of character and spirit that made Dr. Hickam the magnificent human being that he was. It was undoubtedly the unique combination of talent in research and teaching and the practice of medicine that made him so good. The key to the combination lay in his astute mind, his indomitable will, his warm heart, and his humble spirit. His was a probing in- tellect that could explore a problem patiently, meticulously, deeply and clearly. His was an administrative ability that could organize and execute fairly, judiciously, diplomatically, tactfully. His was a tough resilient willpower that gave him the strength and stamina to work hard, to shoulder tremendous responsibilities, to carry heavy burdens without complaint, and to put in long, long hours. His was a style of life that made him a delightful companion, a good friend, very well liked and very much beloved, kind, considerate, sensi- tive, sincere, a man of warmth and good humor; possessed of the highest wisdom of all, which is the wisdom of humility, articulate without being aggressively talkative, modest though he had much of which to be proud, self-confident without being self-centered. His was an unobtrusive quality of leadership that invariably surfaced in every group with which he was associated--like the Association of Professors of Medicine of which he was the President. His was an understanding, a patience, a tenderness, a sensitivity to the person be- hind the patient, an appreciation of the individual human being with dreams and hopes and problems and needs behind the student, that gave him a willingness to work with people patiently toward a solution of their problems rather than dispense them casually--so that his students felt there was a special quality in the education they received from him, so that his colleagues would consult with him even though they were not members of his department, so that his patients would sense that he practiced a medicine of the whole per- son and treated people, not diseases, so that no one who ever talked with him would be made to feel that he was small or his problem was small, and so that one would say, Outside of my own family, he's done more for me than anyone else. His was a tremendously useful life, and at age 55. in fullest and finest flower. Now it is over. Now he is gone. Now this bright, good candle is snuffed out--suddenly, irrationally, tragically. It matters not how we know him--as colleague or teacher, friend or neighbor, father or husband--we all feel tremendously bereft. We arc all diminished by this untimely loss, and we ask not for whom the bell tolls this morning, because we know it tolls for each of us--for his loved ones in particular in their close family circle, for Maty and Helen and Tom--but for all of us in general, and for many who arc not here this morning, for patients he has healed and students he has taught; for the I.U. Med. School, for our city and our state and our nation, and for the entire medical profession. Sometimes we can speak of death as a blessing, but not in this instance. And I daresay that if we are absolutely honest, we will confess a sense of intellectual and moral outrage about this. Why him, in his prime? we ask. How unjust, how tragic! I, for one, will not wTito it off with the easy answers of a sullen cynicism that calls it fate or a glib piety that calls it the will of Cod. Nor will I blame God for it. Our world is not a greenhouse. It is a world in which there is suffering and pain and injustice. We would not have it otherwise, really, but neither would we hold Cod responsible for it all. So we would maintain a reverent agnosticism about the question why, and look for partial meanings within the penumbra of mystery that surrounds us in this mortal life. But after that, we would speak a word of faith. The tragic element in life, can either tempt men to despair or prompt them to faith. Let us opt for faith. This is a Christian church, this is a Christian service. Christians read in their Scripture a line that says We live by faith, not by sight. We believe where we cannot prove. So after we have expressed our gratitude for Dr. Hickam's life, after we have taken our stand by his widow and children to comfort them in their bereavement, after we have confessed our painful feelings of loss and perplexity, we would finally and triumphantly speak of faith. We would point to the everlasting arms that undergird life, and when life is over, lift us up, giving wings to our spirits, rather than permitting us to sink.back into eternal darkness. We would say that the final meaning of life lies beyond life, and that death is something that happens in life, not to it. We would affirm our belief that there is an unseen yet real world of the spirit, ruled by the law of love, which is far more magnificent and far more enduring than the world of flesh and blood, a world that docs not decay or go smash when the bodily engines of this world fail, a world of which we arc a part because we arc endowed by our Creator with spirits that enable us to transcend our earth-bound limitations. We would take inspiration from John Hickam's example, and hopefully run the race yet set before us a little better because of what he meant to us. And finally, we would commend unto our Heavenly Father's loving care in the House with its Many Mansions, the soul of our brother dep arted, crying out, Death be not proud, for death once dead there’s no more dying then, and singing through our tears: For all the saints who from their labors rest. Who Thee by faith before the world confessed. Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest, Alleluia! O blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; Yet all are one in Thee, for all arc Thine. Alleluia! Alleluia!

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