On Saturday, June 14th at 11:00 am, we celebrated a Liturgy of the Word in memory of our former Pastor, Fr. Jim Bleackley, OMI. Christopher Adam offered the words of remembrance and we are sharing this below.
There’s one image of Fr. Jim Bleackley that – at least to me – stands out above all others from his nearly three years as Pastor of St. Joseph’s Parish. The Pastor’s office is located right down the hall from mine in the rectory. Each morning when I’d visit the bookkeeper across the hall to take a deep dive into spreadsheets and the fine print of line items on an income statement, I would walk by the Pastor’s office and see Fr. Jim in silent prayer and meditation, eyes closed as he sat in an armchair, facing the window. He never lost sight of the Transcendent, even amidst the busyness of our temporal world. His routine of morning prayer in his office persisted through waves of pandemic upheaval and uncertainty, through the deluge of shock and anger, much of it directed at the Oblates, that accompanied revelations of potential unmarked graves at the former residential school in Kamloops, and through the daily challenges of serving as Pastor of a parish that invites the city’s most vulnerable to enter through its doors. I can’t recall a single occasion when the events of the day stopped him from setting aside that time each morning for quiet prayer. It grounded him when the world around him had become unmoored.
I was always struck by both the seriousness and the maturity of Fr. Jim’s faith – one that had a decidedly contemplative angle. When the pandemic hit in March 2020, and we faced the first lockdown, Fr. Jim was merely six months into his term as Pastor. Initially, he saw the pandemic lockdown as an opportunity for our community to experience silence in a world that is often too loud – operating at a decibel much higher than that which God uses to speak to us. In those first weeks, some parishes began responding with video recorded or live streamed Masses celebrated by the priest alone or with a small handful of people around him. We approached Fr. Jim with this idea. He wasn’t one to say a firm ‘no’ to most things, always open to considering new approaches. But he was firm and steadfast in declining to livestream his celebration of Mass in a church devoid of people. Christ is present in the gathering of His Church and the Eucharist is not the performance of clergy to a physically absent and passive audience. The one loaf, Fr. Jim would remind us, represents our oneness with each other and with God. Fr. Jim – overcoming his inherent shyness – agreed to videotaped messages and reflections to our parish each week during periods of lockdown. In his very first video message from March 25, 2020, he shared:
“Hopefully, as we adjust to the pandemic’s new reality, the demand to live more interiorly and apart will affirm the interconnection that exists between Creation, others and God. This is a bond that is found beyond words and beyond social activities.” Fr. Jim then shared about his experience during a silent retreat in Calgary many years ago, and the power of allowing silence and prayer to serve as the only interaction with others. “May the void,” he said, “which has turned our world upside down, be a transformative moment for all of us.” Fr. Jim believed that as the world grew quieter, we had the chance to be more receptive to the decibel at which God speaks.
Fr. Jim used several of his videotaped reflections to break open the Word in innovative ways. In 2020, on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, or Corpus Christi, he performed an old Fraction Rite before the camera in our parish library, breaking into pieces a large Presider’s Host.
“Bread broken – one loaf, but many pieces. A meal for us.
Bread broken – divided that we might share.
Wholeness destroyed that we might be joined together.
Bread broken – a sign of Christ’s body broken for us, so that we might live.
May we become He whom we receive.”
Even while we couldn’t gather for the Eucharist for months, Fr. Jim reminded us to be bread blessed and broken for the world.
During those scattered times, working with Jim I got a sense of his vision and image of the Church. He spoke to me often of the invaluable and adept work of female religious congregations – remarking that the nuns he worked with over the years, both in parish life and in mission fields, could give male clergy a run for their money, just about any day of the week. He saw existence through the lens of the suffering, death and resurrection rhythm intrinsic to all life. In a discussion I had with Jim once about the growth of Charismatic Catholic communities, and my own surprise and even discomfort with some of their pieties and practices, he shared that he too had experienced being moved by the Holy Spirit in profound and unexpected ways – a gentle reminder from him not to discount how God is present in the lives of each of us in a manner that nobody else can truly understand. Fr. Jim had a strong sense of pastoral outreach. While the pandemic made this difficult to live, it was Jim — working with Parish Pastoral Council — who in December 2020 established a new tradition of mailing Christmas cards to our parishioners. Jim helped design that card, using art he had received as a gift from a nun he worked with in ministry years ago. That handwritten card in the mail was one small way to remind parishioners isolated at home during the worst of the pandemic that they’re not forgotten and that they’re not alone.
Jim’s former parishioners in the Yukon held him in such high regard and were so touched by his ministry, that many watched his St. Joe’s reflections on YouTube and commented on them. During this ministry here, one former parishioner from Whitehorse mailed thousands of dollars in donations to the St. Joe’s Supper Table, in honour of Fr. Jim. His life and ministry showed that being understated and embracing humility can leave a lasting mark in communities.
And it clearly left a mark on St. Joe’s as well. I am not sure if there is any other pastor in our parish’s long history – although I’m certain that I can ask Terry Byrne to look into it – who had a song written about him on the occasion of his farewell, performed by an ensemble of parishioners named “the St. Joe’s Golden Nuggets.” They appeared with golden hats and with what I’d dare say was a rather Irish zest. This original song, entitled “Farewell, Father Jim!” is still on YouTube.
Fr. Jim may have been a quiet, and sometimes a shy man, but he did not shy away from encountering others, nor from the possibility of being transformed by these encounters. His many years of ministry among Indigenous communities in the north, the memories and the gifts that he brought back with him and displayed in his office at St. Joe’s, served as a living example of Henri Nouwen’s concept of the minister being transformed by those to whom he ministers.
At the end of Jim’s term at St. Joe’s, in August 2022, he returned to British Columbia. He remained in touch with me through emails and occasional mail. In his last mailed Christmas card, he attached a copy of an update on what had been happening in his life – one that he had sent to his Oblate brothers, to family and friends. He spoke of his desire to find ways to serve in pastoral ministry, demonstrating that a priest is never truly retired. He also combined a hiking trip in the Yukon with a visit to the graves of Oblates who had served in the north. By remembering each of them, and being intentional in his act of remembrance, he affirmed that staple of the Catholic faith – notably, that the Church includes those alive today, those who have come before us, and the future generations who will inherit what we leave them.
Today, we’re all participating in this shared act of remembrance – in a simple, understated and meaningful service that reminds us of Fr. Jim’s approach to liturgy. Although we’re not celebrating the Eucharist at this service, we recall what was at the heart of Fr. Jim’s faith: that it’s in the gathering of the faithful that Christ is truly present and that we’re called to become the bread of life, participating actively in the mystery that is God’s grace moving through our world.