9/30/22

Today I attended the funeral mass for James Harrison, an old friend and mentor of sorts.

I met James in 2014 at St. Philip Neri church not long after I'd wandered in one day to check it out and was invited to return by a kind lady named Dorothy. I'd started sitting in on a group led by one of the priests, Fr. Michael, and decided to attend the upcoming RCIA class out of curiosity. James' wife, Barbara, was the director of adult formation and ran the RCIA program, which consists of consecutively progressive classes meant to welcome new people to the church curious about their approach to spirituality, learn about various Catholic doctrines and practices, and prepare those interested to be formally welcomed into the church itself. Barbara led most of the classes, with others like James sitting in to help teach and led discussions. James led some classes as well, and was active throughout, and that's where we started to get to know one another.

I honestly didn't expect to go through the whole program, and they were fine with me going as far as I was comfortable. I never hid my disagreements with various aspects of "orthodox" Catholic theology and church dogmas (many of which they shared or were at least sympathetic to), nor my socialist politics or interest in other faiths such as Buddhism, and that never seemed to be an issue. They met me where I was, and I found myself learning a lot. I also found myself drawn towards their approach to spirituality. It was completely unlike what my perception of Christian spirituality was, being unconditionally welcoming and full of kindness and a deep understanding of oppression and suffering along with a deep desire to overcome those struggles arm in arm with anyone willing to call themselves a sister or brother. Each class intrigued me more, and I found myself looking forward to the next. And before I knew it, I was part of their extended family (or as much as an introvert like me could be).

James himself was incredibly intelligent and had old school manners, which I appreciated. I noticed how he carried himself and treated others right away and admired him for it. He was easy to talk to and had a great smile. I always looked forward to seeing him and our discussions. He was a natural teacher and had a lifetime of experiences to share, both good and bad, and was particularly knowledgeable in the realms of history and racism. And his voice. Warm yet firm. Articulate yet unpretentious. Subdued yet full of emotion and power. I loved the sound of his voice.

Barbara and James, along with the spirituality and call to social justice of the Paulist priests who founded St. Philip and the community they fostered, are the main reasons I decided to be welcomed into the church and found a guiding inspiration in the life and teachings of Jesus. They all exhibited a welcoming spirit that combined a healthy rebelliousness with a genuine concern for others, especially the poor and vulnerable and oppressed. And through my interactions with them, that same spirit found a home in my own heart too..

I didn't know James as well as many, but he certainly had a big impact on my life with his presence. So I know he'll be missed immensely, because I can only imagine the impact he had on those even closer to him. He was a shining example of a true follower of Christ, forever altering my perception of what it means to be one—to be imperfectly perfect; to share the gifts we have with others; to learn from our mistakes; to live a life of love, compassion, and mercy; and to leave the world a little better than we found it.

Everlasting be your memory, my brother, who are worthy of blessedness and eternal memory.