The Diocese of Little Rock will host a Jubilarian Mass Wednesday, June 25, at 5:30 p.m. at the Cathedral of St. Andrew in Little Rock for priests who celebrate 25, 50, 60 and 65 years of service in 2024 and 2025.   

2024 jubilarians to be honored include Msgr. Jack Harris, 50 years, and Father Norbert Rappold, 25 years.

2025 jubilarians are Msgr. Gaston Hebert, 65 years; Father Henry Mischkowiuski and Father Jerome Kodell, OSB, 60 years; and Father Rodolphe Balthazar, Father Ravi Gudipalli, Father Denis Bouchard, FSSP, and Father Andreas Kedati, SVD, 25 years.  

In addition, all retired diocesan priests will be recognized for their service. A dinner reception will follow in McDonald Hall and is open to everyone. No reservations are required. For more information, contact María Velázquez at (501) 664-0340.

For about six months before Lacey Vance sent her daughter, Scarlet, to kindergarten last year, her nervousness was more than typical first-time parent jitters. 

“I could tell that it was very out of character for me to be kept up at night about this,” she said. 

But the fear was understandable. In 1998, Lacey (then-Hawkins) was an outgoing 12-year-old who loved showing horses, had just joined cheerleading and was active in her school’s gifted and talented program. 

She felt safe as a seventh grader at the small Westside Middle School, which had about 100 students and teachers outside of Jonesboro. 

March 24 marked the 26th anniversary of the shooting at Westside Middle School in Craighead County, where students Andrew Golden, 11, and Mitchell Johnson, 13, triggered a fire alarm and shot from the woods behind the school at students and teachers as they evacuated. According to the Encyclopedia of Arkansas, the shooters fired 30 rounds at the group, killing four female students and a teacher and injuring 10 others. It was one of the first school shootings and remains the deadliest mass shooting at a middle school in the United States.

Since 1998, there have been more than 400 school shootings in the United States, according to The Washington Post. 

Vance, now 39, who attends Mass at St. Joseph Church in Conway, was there the day of the shooting, and Msgr. Jack Harris was pastor at Blessed Sacrament Church in Jonesboro, ministering to the school and community five years after the attack. Both reflected on that day and where society is now when it comes to gun violence. 

“We’ve hardened ourselves, that’s for sure. We’ve become such a violent society. We just sort of live with it. We looked at ourselves in Jonesboro as being a one-off, as something horrible and it will never happen again. And instead, it just unfolded a year later, practically to the day Columbine (High School shooting in Colorado) happened. That put us into a shock up there. But then it has just continued,” Msgr. Harris said. 

‘That stays with you’ 

There are moments from that day Vance cannot forget. She was sitting in math class when the fire alarm went off. 

“Everybody was excited because it was pretty nice outside that day. And, you know, a fire drill back then was like, ‘This is cool. Let’s go outside, miss 15 minutes of class.’ So we all get up and file out of the building,” she said. 

The students heard popping noises and were shuffled into the gym. While rumors of a robbery or a hostage situation swirled around the gym, Vance said it was clear some students were missing. She immediately began worrying about her mother, a computer lab instructor at the school. 

“A teacher, who was one of my mom’s good friends, walked in and all I remember is seeing blood all over her shoes and thinking, ‘What is going on?’ And then I really started panicking,” Vance said, adding her mother was safe. “… Then you start hearing people scream in the gym. I think a lot of that was the friends being missing, but I know of at least one kid, maybe more than one, who had been shot and didn’t realize it and were in the gym with us.” 

Vance stayed at the school that day longer than most because her mother worked there, watching ambulances and police, seeing the blood in the hallway, trash bins overturned from students who hid and the bullet holes that dotted the walls behind the bleachers in the gym, which was in the line of fire. 

“That stays with you,” she said.

‘But I can’t get over it’ 

Msgr. Harris got the call about the shooting that afternoon. He was soon in that same gym where community leaders met with shocked citizens, stayed to answer calls that evening and met with staff the following day, along with counselors. 

“I was put in with the group that was the cafeteria workers. Those ladies were surrogate mothers to these kids,” Msgr. Harris said. “… Because this happened at about 12:35 p.m., in the afternoon, immediately after lunch, these ladies felt like, ‘We can’t believe what we did to these kids. We fed them lunch and sent them out to be shot.’ That’s not at all what happened, but that’s how they felt.” 

The students returned two days after the shooting. Though counseling was available, Vance did not remember processing what happened. 

“I think they thought normalcy is the best thing, and I understand that, given the resources available at the time. … I think all of us just sort of put a lid on that and kept on going because we didn’t know otherwise,” Vance said.

For the next five years, Msgr. Harris was a steady presence, attending sports and school activities. He was a listening ear for students with their parents and assisted with camps organized for student survivors in the years following the shooting. He said he watched as students grieved, gravitating toward him and sometimes acting out when he was around because he was the silent reminder of the trauma. 

“What they’re saying is, ‘I’m not permitted to talk about this. People tell me, get over it, move on. But I can’t get over it,’” Msgr. Harris said. 

Vance graduated from Westside High School in 2003 but has never returned to the middle school. Msgr. Harris became a crisis counselor, working with the National Organization for Victim Advocacy to minister everywhere from Columbine, Colo., to New York City after 9/11. In addition to his work as a pastor in Center Ridge and Saint Vincent, he ministers to death row inmates. 

Peace at a new school

While Vance has spent most of her life blocking out the realities of that day, including becoming news-avoidant, sending her only child to school made the trauma boil over. 

“You have real pictures to put with the fear in your head where you can picture your own kid in the same situation you were in, and that’s very scary,” Vance said. 

Close friends and clients recommended St. Joseph Elementary School in Conway, and on their first visit, Vance said they greeted Scarlet by name, which was an immediate comfort. Scarlet, turning 7 in October, is now in her second year at St. Joseph in first grade. 

Vance is a second-year room mom and said the family is excited about the connection the school has given them to the parish. She praised the teacher’s “hawkeye” nature, the school’s proximity to the police station and its overall commitment to security. 

“In the event of an emergency, not only do you want to be able to get there quickly, but I want to be able to walk up to anybody here and say, ‘Where’s my kid’ and them know who I am and know who my child is immediately. And here that happens,” Vance said. “… This school is the best thing ever.”

Common Gun Objections 

The Michigan Catholic Conference publication “Focus” shared different topics on guns and gun violence from a Catholic perspective. In their article, “Responding to Gun Safety Reform Objections,” they shared tips on Catholic responses to common gun objections. Here are three: 

• “Objection: Guns don’t kill people, people kill people.”

“Response: People live in a fallen world where conflict is sometimes inevitable. The question is whether that conflict will become deadly. The availability of a gun to people involved in violent or angry conflict reasonably leads to an increased risk of serious injury or death.”

• “Objection: These measures violate the Second Amendment and my freedom as an American to own a gun.”

“Response: Catholic social principles hold that with rights come responsibilities, and that applies to the Second Amendment. As the American bishops have taught, ‘the unlimited freedom to possess and use handguns must give way to the rights of all people to safety and protection against those who misuse these weapons.’ Catholics do not advocate for freedom from obligation or restriction, but rather freedom for human flourishing. The common good of society includes respect for life and for peace. A peaceful society is not possible if violent death by gunfire is increasingly prevalent.” 

• “Objection: You cannot legislate away evil. Homicides will continue despite these laws.”

“Response: Catholics believe civil law expresses the moral order and promotes the common good in society. Although it is true that civil law alone cannot prevent all bad acts, there is extensive research that certain gun safety policies are very likely to save lives, thereby promoting the value of human life and peace to society.” 

Read more at micatholic.org/advocacy/news-room/focus/2023/a-catholic-response-to-gun-violence/responding-to-gun-safety-reform-objections/

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.”