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Jubilarian known for work as prison minister, crisis counselor

Father Rajasekhar Chittem (left), pastor of Church of the Assumption in Atkins and St. Leo University Parish in Russellville, and Father Omar Galvan (right), administrator of St. Andrew Church in Danville and St. Augustine Church in Dardanelle, present an Indian shawl to Msgr. Jack Harris at his jubilee celebration June 8 at Sacred Heart Church in Morrilton. (Courtesy Sacred Heart School)

When asked by Arkansas Catholic how he reached the decision to become a priest, Msgr. Jack Harris smiled wryly before replying. 

“Well, I still haven’t made up my mind,” he said. “There wasn’t any point at which it happened. I took a look at it, decided I’d come in and look around and never found a reason to leave.”

There are many things that Msgr. Harris is involved in, but you might not know it — the humble pastor doesn’t talk much about his extensive career in prison ministry as a minister on death row, the fact that he’s a trained crisis counselor or that he’s been a finalist for Catholic Extension’s Lumen Christi Award. Many people don’t even know that he’s a monsignor — he often insists that people refer to him as Father Jack. 

Msgr. Harris graduated from Catholic High School in 1965 before attending the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville from 1965 to 1967. 

Shortly after, Msgr. Harris chose the seminary over completing a degree and was ordained a priest June 8, 1974. As he celebrates the 50th anniversary of his ordination, Msgr. Harris often wonders how he’s gotten to this place. 

“I talk to the Lord about that sometimes,” he said. “Did you call me here, or did I just come in on my own, and you’ve tolerated it?”

For the first 22 years as a priest, Msgr. Harris did juvenile delinquency work and delinquency prevention in Pulaski, Sebastian and Crawford counties. 

“That’s really what I believe I was called into the priesthood to do,” Msgr. Harris said. “… You look for the vocation within the vocation. Not everyone called into the priesthood is meant to be a pastor … you look at what you’re fitted for.”

Msgr. Harris said he often struggled with being a pastor for the first few years after his ordination in Jonesboro and Pine Bluff.

“I remember, in morning prayer every day, to pray for all those people that I so-called ‘served’ early in the pastorate because I didn’t do a very good job at all,” he said. “I didn’t have any concept of what that ought to be like. … that was unfortunate. It took a long time for me to figure out, in order for me to be a pastor, that I have to surround myself with the people who know what ought to be done in a parish.”

Msgr. Harris tries not to be too controlling when he’s in a parish because he often approaches problems as a crisis responder and prison chaplain — he is used to diffusing problems and soothing worries. 

As a crisis counselor, he has helped people and groups navigate their trauma and emotions after school shootings and the aftermath of 9/11. 

“Those things probably shaped how I approach people more than anything I ever learned in the seminary,” Msgr. Harris said. 

But he believes working in prison ministry has helped him as a pastor — from comforting and consoling the men who have missed their chances to change their ways, to steering kids away from treacherous paths. 

“The way I would describe my work is, I have two parishes, four high schools and one prison,” Msgr. Harris said. “In the evening, I’m in a gym somewhere. I stay busy at our ball field here. In the summer, with all the baseball and softball teams and the little ones down here playing everywhere, that’s where I’m going to be. … It’s part of what I do, and I like to do it.

That’s probably what’s been impacted by my prison ministry more than anything, because these are the ones who still have it in front of them. The men I worked with down there (in the prisons), their opportunity came and went, and they lost it somehow. … All of us are shaped by our history and what we do and in ways we don’t know.”

On June 8, all four of Msgr. Harris’ parishes — St. Joseph Church in Center Ridge and St. Mary Church in Saint Vincent, where he is the pastor, and Sacred Heart Church in Morrilton and St. Elizabeth Church in Oppelo, where he is associate pastor — held a reception for Msgr. Harris. 

Linda Boedeker, a parishioner at Sacred Heart Church in Morrilton and Msgr. Harris’ former secretary and bookkeeper of 12 years, attended the reception. 

“He’s one of the most generous, kindest, knowledgeable people as far as the Bible goes,” Boedeker said. “He’s just so humble. He’s one of the most humble people I’ve ever met. And his prison ministry is so very important too. We periodically took up donations for him and for the prisons.”

While Msgr. Harris might not think he’s the best pastor, Boedeker disagrees. 

“He’s the best man I’ve heard on the altar with his homily,” she said. “He has a spiritual meaning behind everything he says on that altar … There’s a point to what he says. He’d say, ‘Well, that’s enough,’ and we’d all say, ‘No, that’s not enough, keep talking.’ … He’s one of the most generous men I’ve ever met in my life, and it was truly an honor to serve under him as his secretary and bookkeeper.”

Larry Taylor, receptionist at the St. John Center for the Diocese of Little Rock, graduated from Catholic High School with Msgr. Harris. The two have stayed in touch ever since. 

“I’ve known Monsignor for a long time, since our days at Catholic High, and so enjoy his company,” Taylor said. “I recently hired a man to do some work for me, and he did a great job. When it came time to pay him, I told him that I was at the St. John’s Center and could be home in a matter of minutes. He exclaimed, ‘Do you know Father Jack? Is he there by any chance? He was so kind and helpful to me when I was on death row.’ 

“He went on to say that Father Jack had been instrumental in his exoneration and return to being a productive member of society. My hunch is that this is just one of many, many wonderful stories about Father Jack.”

Today, Msgr. Harris’ work helps everyone — from parishioner to prisoner — to see God in all things. 

“The people I worked with in crisis response and the people I worked with prison — for them, the event, the crisis, the decision has already happened,” he said. “And now we’re looking for, where is God in all of this? Not beforehand. I don’t think he did any of that. He didn’t make that school shooting happen. He didn’t make any of those men that I work with commit their horrible crimes. He probably tried to stop it. Now we’ve got to try to find what he’s trying to do now.” 

Katie Zakrzewski

Katie Zakrzewski joined Arkansas Catholic as associate editor in 2023 after working in local media and the environmental sector. A member of St. Mary Church in North Little Rock, she recently completed her master’s degree in public service from the Clinton School.

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