Father Jim Callan: In Memorium

Touched by a Spiritual Giant

While I was in college I developed an interest in the movement known loosely as “independent Catholicism” (associated particularly with the Old Catholic Church and more generally with the broader “independent sacramental movement”). While doing some research I discovered that one of the largest independent Catholic churches was in my own backyard: Spiritus Christi, a parish formed in 1998 by a group that had broken away from Corpus Christi, a parish in the Diocese of Rochester that had become nationally known for its inclusive practices (particularly opening communion to all, letting a female pastoral associate stand near the altar, and blessing gay unions).

The story of the parish, in both its incarnations, is a remarkable one. And, at the center of that story, is the renegade priest who made it all possible: Father James “Jim” Brady Callan. While not a household name, Fr. Jim had made national news as far back as 1976 for refusing to live in a lavish rectory. The crisis of 1998 itself attracted national news (see here and here), always with Fr. Jim at the eye of the storm. The simple version of the story, as told by conservative Catholics, was that Fr. Jim had bewitched the parishioners and let them out of Holy Mother Church like the Pied Piper (for some reason many trads seem to think that adults are incapable of thinking for themselves).

The reality, however, was that Fr. Jim had simply stepped out of the way, allowing the members of his flock to flourish and lead the way. In the lingo of today, Fr. Jim “amplified” the voices of others. In Biblical fashion, he lived the example of John the Baptist, who decreased so that others might increase, helping others remove the bushels that hid their light. When Spiritus was founded, Fr. Jim assumed the position of Associate Pastor and made no effort to control the direction the community took. He told me once it was not leadership he sought. It was pastoral care, being a priest, that brought him joy.

The past tense here is, alas, intentional. Father Jim died just a few days ago, bringing down the curtain a truly legendary life. For the past several months he had suffered from debilitating cancer of the tongue, and largely withdrawn from public life to a well-earned respite. By all accounts Fr. Jim was ready when the end came; with dignity and grace he surrendered to the cancer devouring his body, prepared to die into the God that he had spent his life serving.

Fr. Jim once told me that he believed death was just a “change of address.” For myself, I am, at best, deeply agnostic on the question of an afterlife. I can’t think of any conception or image of life after death that really makes sense to me or offers much in the way of comfort, I am an inverse of the (shockingly) common person who does not believe in God but does believe in the afterlife. It would be disingenuous for me to speak confidently of Fr. Jim being in a better place, I simply have no idea, no conviction. I wouldn’t know what I’m talking about.

What I do know, however, is how deeply blessed I was to have been in the orbit of such a great man, to have seen the tremendous impact he had on thousands of lives, an impact that rippled out from there to shores unknown. I am confidant that Fr. Jim’s memory, legacy, spirit, is very much alive, and will carry in ways neither I, nor Fr. Jim himself, could possibly have predicted.

In one sense, rather like Christ’s, Fr. Jim’s life was an apparent failure on the surface. The Church did not change to align with his values, it did not catch up to Spiritus Christi in 10 years as he had once hoped. In the end, Fr. Jim died without being reinstated to the priesthood, with the Diocese of Rochester barely acknowledging his death. Fr. Jim knew some years ago that he would not be buried in a Catholic cemetery, and so he will be laid to rest in Rochester’s Mt. Hope Cemetery. It is hard to think of a more fitting place, for he will lie with Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass, his ‘peeps’ if there ever were any.

I was never an uncritical follower of Fr. Jim, I found his view to be somewhat naive and simplistic (I remember him gushing about Cindy Sheehan as a prophet). Nonetheless, Fr. Jim also had a level of self-awareness that is often lacking in those who push for social change. In one of his books he recalled being told in seminary that he was a “romantic, utopian, arrogant, son of a bitch.” In response, Fr. Jim noted wryly, he didn’t think anyone ever described him so accurately. He was comfortable calling himself a sinful messenger. Whatever his flaws, Fr. Jim was a true saint. He was funny as hell, a true friend, a man of conviction. Would that there were far more of him in this world.

My own relationship with Fr. Jim fizzled out. I was a member of Spiritus from 2005 to 2013; during that year I was crushed under a wave of depression (addiction related as it happens). I found at that time that the liberal Catholicism of Spiritus Christi didn’t meet my needs, that I need something “stronger” and more “real” than what Spiritus offered. In retrospect, I had spiritually outgrown what Spiritus offered and was tasting the impermanence of life. As it happened, however, I thought that I had found what I was seeking in the Roman Catholic Church, where I was confirmed on Easter 2014.

That didn’t really take in the end either, obviously, but I allowed myself to drift away from Spiritus and simply lost touch with Fr. Jim, a choice I deeply regret. I have no insight into Fr. Jim’s inner spiritual life, beyond knowing that it was immensely deep and that he approached the many decisions he made with discernment. His decision to stand firm in 1998 was not an easy one and must have torn him apart, yet he accepted the consequences with grace and good humor. While I had the sense he may not have always agreed with the direction Spiritus took, he stood by and with his people, never looking back.

My own relationship with Catholicism is conflicted even now. I entered the Church drawn by the writings of Bishop (then Father) Robert Barron, who I found magnificent as a theologian but predictably boring as a cultural commentator and - now - a cultural warrior. It is cliched to note the ghastly history of much of Catholicism, the legacy of which lives on its contemporary right-wing forms. Look at the rantings of Patrick Coffin or the more erudite and sometimes correct philosophical writings of Ed Feser, or the racist condescension of those who proclaim only the Latin Mass is “real” Catholicism. Within the Diocese of Rochester, known for some decades as a bastion of Catholic liberalism, a “brave” resistance emerged, calling themselves “Cleansing Fire” (an unfortunate name if there ever was one). Not surprisingly, Fr. Jim was one of their frequent targets.

For all of this, however, I didn’t see much hope in liberal Catholicism. I still enjoy to this day the writings of Joan Chittister, Hans Kung, Richard Rohr, and Ron Rolheiser, some of whom I was introduced to by Fr. Jim. I still read America and Commonweal (and ever once in awhile the National Catholic Reporter). Alas, however, I don’t see much of a future in liberal Catholicism. I joined Fr. Jim and others from Spiritus several times to attend the national Call-to-Action conference in Milwaukee and the only word I can use to describe them is “pitiable.” It was a sea of grey hair, tilting at windmills, still believing the Roman Catholic Church would transform. Progressive Catholicism often struck - and still strikes me - as internally contradictory, as Peter Steinfels noted in his wonderful A People Adrift.

And so, my own spiritual journey took me out of Spiritus, into the Catholic Church, and then out again. I’ve cited Damon Linker’s piece on the retrograde intransigence of conservative Catholics several times, and I stand by it. Linker has been referred to as an “honest apostate,” a label I’m happy to claim for myself. Having dove deep into Thomas Merton in the past month, I take some comfort in seeing myself in Merton’s journey: an intellectual conversion, followed by the stirrings of a perpetual inner restlessness that ultimately lead to much-needed loosening up. And like Merton I have found a new lease on the spiritual life in Zen.

So, my own journey diverged from that of Fr. Jim. Last week I returned to Spiritus for the first time in over a decade for an evening of tributes to Fr. Jim - the choir sung his favorite song and hundreds of people within and beyond Spiritus paid tribute to the impact he had on their - our - lives. Fr. Jim himself watched the evening from his hospital room, feeling, for the last time, the love of his community. I myself was positively wracked with waves of palpable grief during the service, crying nonstop.

Yet, I have no desire to return to Spiritus and I am content with that decision. The grief was for the loss of Fr. Jim and for a past I simply could not return to. And yet, in the sorrow of impermanence, there was also gratitude - for having been so close for so long to such an incredible human being. I wrote Fr. Jim a letter 2 weeks before he passed - I don’t know whether he ever read how impactful he was on me, how much I missed - and will miss - him.

In the last few days of Fr. Jim’s life I began reading a book of insights from the legendary Protestant minister William Sloane Coffin, a kindred spirit of Fr. Jim’s and a tremendous force for social justice. Coffin’s writings reminded me of Fr. Jim and touched something in my soul. Yes, Fr. Jim’s worldview could be simplistic and irritating, but in no small part that was because it was a challenge, an affliction of the comfortable (i.e. me). Bill Coffin spoke bluntly of how zealously we cling to the status quo when it benefits us. Real spirituality, if not is not to devolve into solipsism, demands devotion to justice, attention to the poor. It calls us to let go of dehumanizing forms of life.

Fr. Jim did just that. He lived, in every way imaginable, the life of the Gospel. His was a life of simple living, devotion to others, advocating for justice while also providing charity. He was a model of what a Christian should be, what the Orthodox call a “fool for Christ.” Put simply: he was a truly holy man.

All that can be said is: thank you, Fr. Jim, thank you. May your memory be eternal.