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Fr. James Stephen Jenner, OP

Fr. James Stephen Jenner was born in Seattle on June 26, 1925.  He professed his vows as a Dominican in 1948, and was ordained to the priesthood on July 16, 1951.  Although these facts may have been a mystery, no one who met James since his return to Seattle in 1999 could remain long in ignorance of the address where he grew up.  "Hi," he would tell those coming to Mass on Sunday.  "I'm Fr. James.  I grew up at 509 West Mercer and graduated from O'Dea High School!"James' assignment to Blessed Sacrament was a homecoming of sorts, the end of a long priesthood and fruitful religious life that included teaching, serving as procurator at St. Albert's, Tribunal work in Las Vegas, being a hospital chaplain, chaplain to Dominican nuns, and associate pastorates through Nevada, Arizona, and California.

But James was proudest of the years he spent as chaplain in the U.S. Navy, serving—among other places—in the Great Lakes Region, Vietnam, Perris Island, and Guam.  He was full of stories about life in the military, and loved to tell how he was moved from one ship to another by means of a harness suspended from a helicopter.  We have a wonderful picture of him grasping his Mass kit as he is being lowered onto the deck of an aircraft carrier.  On the back he wrote, "en route, Mediterranean, 1962.  They had their chance, but didn't drop me!"  He risked his life for those he served and they rewarded him with a medal for valor.

When James arrived in our community he made it clear he was not going to be a wallflower.  While the rest of us ate breakfast in silence, interrupting our newspaper reading with no more than an occasional grunt, James entered the kitchen after Mass each morning, steadying himself on Br. Robert King's arm, ready to engage us all in conversation.  If we didn't respond he thought we were deliberately ignoring him and proceeded to read aloud the headlines to get our attention.

James undoubtedly inherited his frankness from his mother, who, throughout the Depression, habitually fed the homeless men who arrived at the back door looking for a meal in return for doing chores.  When James asked his mother who the strangers were that she was so generous to, she replied, "I don't know, but one of them may be Jesus, and I don't want to turn Him away!"  this prompted the young James to ask the next visitor, "Are you Jesus?"

Alzheimer's Disease robbed James of the ability to preside at Mass, preach, hear confessions, and counsel people, and weaning himself away from these familiar priestly duties was an unwelcome and painful transition.  James loved people and wanted nothing more than, in his words, "to be productive."  Fr. Reginald Martin and I tried to assure him that his friendliness and warmth made a very productive contribution to those who came to our parish.

James entered the hospital for emergency surgery the day before Thanksgiving.  Sadly, his slow and erratic recovery foiled all our plans to bring him home.  Or maybe he simply wanted to do things his way—as he had for so many years.  He died just a few hours after Fr. Gus Hartman and I visited him, praying with him and singing the Salve.

Sometimes, from nowhere, our brother would blurt out, "Praise Jesus!" as if to remind himself—and us—who ultimately it is in charge, and whom we are meant to live for.  At other times—as parishioners were leaving church at the end of Mass, or when visitors left the prior—he would call out, "Safe Home!"  Now he's "safe home" and his mind, free from all that confusion, is as clear as his bright blue eyes.  Praise Jesus!  Praise Jesus!

—Fr. John Adams, OP
Seattle, Washington

Photos: Page 4 | Page 5 (Funeral & Burial) | 1999

Letter -  "Travels and Trials of SJS", February 8, 1958

Funeral Mass of Fr. James Stephen Jenner, OP

Preaching by Fr. Reginald Martin, OP

January 21, 2003

Seeing the crowds, Jesus went up on the mountain... and he opened his mouth and taught them.

In this chapel of the Order of Preachers, there can be no more powerful reminder of the holiness of our preaching task than this description of Jesus preaching his great Sermon on the Mount. And if you came here to mourn the death of Fr. Jenner, I hope you will agree that the Scripture holds fewer images more consoling than that of Jesus, who reminds us today that they are blessed who weep.

A sermon is not, perhaps, the place for a grammar lesson, but we ought to note that while Jesus uses the future tense to describe the rewards of blessedness, he uses the present tense to describe the activities that make us blessed. We shall be comforted and satisfied in the future, for one day we shall see Christ face to face, but he tells us this morning: if we mourn, the blessing has already begun.

So blessed are we who mourn the loss of something fine today: a Dominican brother, a priest, a loving uncle, a gentle and witty companion, a curious and enthusiastic observer of nature, and an almost always smiling presence.

And Jesus said: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." The rewards Christ promises us are immense, but we gain them only if we are poor in spirit. Camels pass through the eyes of needles before we enter the kingdom of heaven - unless we are willing to lay down whatever it is that makes us rich. To be poor in spirit is the last challenge of a Christian, and, finally, the last and greatest gift we offer God. Anyone who loved James must have lamented his gradual decline, and especially the agitation and apparently unresponsive purgatory of his last few days, trying unsuccessfully to recover from surgery on Thanksgiving Day.

But when your wit is an antic as his was, when your memories as rich with white asparagus in Salzburg, and parsnips, and ice cream, and even in illness in a nursing home, when your life is full of flowers, and company, cello concerts performed for him alone, and hand-drawn cards from the second graders in the parish's Sunday school, it must take a long time to achieve the poverty of spirit that merits a place in heaven. We mourn the death of our brother today, but he is at peace. God asked James many times whether he was poor enough to enter the kingdom, and at last he was able to say yes.

And Jesus said, "Blessed are the merciful; mercy shall be theirs." These days, mercy is one of those words so overused it has nearly lost its worth. It means compassionate sorrow for another's distress, coupled with a will to relieve it. Sorrow itself is not enough. To be merciful, sorrow must be coupled with an active love. Mercy is a welcome quality in a friend; it is essential in a priest, and there is a small crowd of devoted penitents in Seattle who will testify the extent to which James possessed it. They used to knock on our kitchen door and ask for him by name to hear their confessions - and I cannot believe that his failing memory was the only thing that drew them back.

And Jesus said, "Blessed are the meek; they shall inherit the land." Meekness, like mercy, is one of those qualities these days largely misunderstood. It has nothing to do with a poor self-image, or a lack of assertiveness, or even a desire for obscurity. It is the virtue that moderates anger, and anyone who watched James watch his world contract around him knows how often he had the opportunity to be meek.

The aunt of a friend of mine, an opera singer from the turn of the last century, wrote a book of memoirs. In it she reflected, "One is seldom aware of the sort of life one is living while actually living it," and she added, "it is a rare thing to be conscious of true happiness or realize what seeds are being sown...at the time of their planting."

Trees are known by their fruits, the gospel tells us, and our Savior warns that we shall discover our hearts where we find our treasure. When James was still able to preach, the need for intimacy was the theme of all his sermons, and that so many have gathered here today is proof that James sowed - and preached - well indeed. And although the awareness of true happiness may elude our mortal consciousness, St. Paul's words to the Thessalonians this morning afford us the comfort that he is on his way to discovering it now.

And Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers; they shall be called children of God." Peace is often understood as the absence of war, which shows how very deficient our notion of peace can be. Christian theology tells us peace is something much greater than the mere lack of violence and bloodshed. It is a state of tranquility within ourselves or among individuals, and for nearly fifteen years - including the height of the Vietnam War - our brother brought Christ's word of peace to a world of weaponry, soldiers, and war.

James never said much about the time he spent ministering to the women and men who served this country in that tragic conflict. His nephew was in the novitiate with me, but even he was fuzzy on the details. We had in those days only one picture of James in the Province archive, but he left behind two photographs in his room that offer a small glimpse of those hidden years - in one James is giving communion to a sailor, and in the other he is being lowered from a helicopter, to celebrate Mass on a battleship.

Fr. Steven Maekawa framed the medals our brother earned during those years. One is the Bronze Star with combat "V," for service under fire at Da Nang. Fr. Steven can interpret the arcane symbolism of the other ribbons and medals, but they all testify how very effectively our brother James waged Christ's peace.

In the first of our readings this morning the author of the Book of Genesis tells us

... God created man in his own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female he created them... and God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good.

When he was asked to explain a particularly obscure verse in one of his poems, Robert Browning is rumored to have replied, "when I wrote those lines only God and I knew what they meant; now only God knows."

We might say the same about our brother James. Eleven years ago, when he told his superiors he wanted read at his funeral that verse from the Book of Genesis, he and God must have known what he had in mind. Now, sadly, only God does. Unless, perhaps, in the days before he became so very ill, James wanted us to reflect that although disease can rob us of our memories and erase all those lines that make us look like one another, only sin can make us look less like God.

When Jesus took on the dusty stuff of our mortality, the very elements of our world assumed a sacramental greatness. As a result, some places on our globe are so nearly mythic that an address is unimportant. We could write "The Vatican" or "The White House" on an envelope and, so long as the postage was sufficient, rest confident that our letter would eventually reach its destination.

Then there are addresses so important that they are nearly mythic; 509 West Mercer in Seattle is one of them. The world passes this site every day without pausing in its haste, but the Dominican community and a generation of parishioners at Blessed Sacrament owes its thanks to our brother James for enabling the address of a boyhood home to open a window onto a Seattle as fabled as Babylon.

And Jesus said, "Blessed are you who mourn; you will be consoled." One of the early Christian writers said Christ saved us by going through every moment of our lives, even the last. Jesus didn't die so that we wouldn't have to; he died to show us how. We mourn James today, but one day we will be consoled. For one day each of us who walks under that same certain sad sentence of death will have to become poor in spirit, too, and on that day we shall be grateful that he has gone ahead to show us how.

Letter: February 8, 1958

SaturdayThis bright Saturday morning seems an excellent time to bring everyone up to date on the "Travels and Trials of J.S.J.—A True Story of Romance and Adventure in Far Away Places."

The tale begins in the Queen City of California—San Francisco.  On reporting into the 12th Naval District, I was directed to the Travel Section where arrangements are made to ship baggage, live-stock, cars, umbrellas and people all over this wide Navy World.  The people at this office informed me to stand-bye (this is Navy talk for "wait around").  In about a day's time, a telephone call was received saying the plane was to leave on Tuesday and that I should be there to go on the plane.  I was there; but the plane didn't go.  The next episode occurred when on Thursday the "be there and go bit" was repeated.  This time it took.

A number of us—people, I mean—were tumbled into a bus and hauled off to Travis Air Force Base to be consumed by the yawning maw of MATS (Military Air Transport Service).  The consumption of my particular group was accomplished and we took off at 2400 (12:00 a.m.) on Thursday.

That night we flew through the black night over the black waters to bright Hawaii—"ugh, ugh" (which seems to be Hawaiians for everything's all-right).  The plane came to a landing about 1000 (10:00 a.m.) Hawaiian time, whatever that may have been.  There was a four hour stop-over.  In this time Fr. Ed. Ford, USN, came down to the plane.  Father Ed made arrangements for me to get cleaned up and rested at the BOQ [(Bachelor Officer Quarters for)].  About 1230 Father came back and we went out to lunch.  In the short time of my visit, I saw very little of Honolulu.  Yet from the approach to the Island of Oahu and what was seen of Honolulu, I did see enough to want a longer stay in the area.

The next stop was the Island of Kwagelien.  This is a small island.  It was a short stop.  We landed about 2200 and were off at 2400.  But as the island is small (about 2 miles long) Fr. Von Beck USN drove over to the airport to collect me for a visit at his quarters.  At the time Bishop Kennelly S.J. was there.  The Bishop has a group of islands under his charge.  Since it was night there was not much to be seen.  The highest point on the island is the air-control tower at the air-port.  Our happy little company got back aboard the plane and we were able to get airborne before we ran out of island, which is really of some consideration when there is only two miles of it.

The final stop was Guam.  The plan came to a stop at 0300 Sunday 26 January.  Someplace along the way Saturday was lost.  Within an hour's time, I had made my way to one of the BOQ's—the Nimitz Hill one.

Fr. Morgan came down to my room in the morning.  So we both went out to say our Masses.  There are three Navy priests on Guam.  Fr. Lavey Boyle, Naval Station; Fr. John Boreczky, Naval Air Station; and myself, MOB#10.  Father Jack Stavich, Air Force is at Andersen's Air Force Base.  Navy-wise there are three chapels: a Quonset hut chapel both at Nimitz Hill and Naval Station.  Mass is said at the naval hospital in the auditorium.  However, a fine chapel is being built at the hospital.   This chapel should be finished in July.

The activities on Guam are rather spread out.  This [is] particularly true with the CB activities.  I do more driving on Guam than I ever did in San Diego.  It is not exceptional to drive over 100 miles a day among the various activities.  I have seen very little of the island to date.  Most of our activities are on one side of the island.  The roads circle Guam with only a few roads crossing form one side to another.  The Guamanians are quite Americanized in some ways—there are many new cars: but few homes of state-side caliber.  There is an abundance of greenery.  Plants that are prizes in the states grow wild; bamboo to dizzy heights, ferns, palms, a type of philodendrons, bread-fruit trees, banana are but some.

After this first week, I have the office organized and am a little more familiar with the procedure and set-up.  I have moved from the Nimitz Hill BOQ to the hospital BOQ which is a new building and very much better than that of Nimitz Hill Quonset BOQ—a large oval barn-like affair with rooms stuck in it.

I hope to keep up the installments of the "Travels and Trials etc.—".  Regards to all—

Letter: July 25, 1968

The Reverend
J. S. Jenner, O.P.
LCDR, CHC, USN
Naval Air Station
Imperial Beach, California  92032

Dear Steve:

Your letter of the 22nd was received.  It was really good to hear from you, and congratulations on your involvement in the community in Imperial Beach and the fact that you have been elected President of the Board of Directors.  I think this involvement in community activities is very important for people because we have to get involved in the community in which we live.

With regard to your proposed visit to San Francisco on Friday, August 9: as far as I can see at the present moment I will be home.  I have put it on my calendar.  If anything should occur that would not have me in San Francisco on the 9th and the morning of the 10th, I will let you know just as soon as possible, but I don't foresee anything at the present time.

I had expected to go to Mexico but I have postponed the trip until after the General Chapter.  I will be making several short trips around the area, but I can plan to be back here at that time.

I am glad that you have gotten involved in the Western Behavioral Sciences Institute, UCSD, La Jolla.  You probably ran into Ambrose Toomey there—he is on the staff.  This is a thing that is being used greatly today.  It is experimental and I suppose to some degree controversial, but I'm glad that you are having the experience of such a group.

With the assurances of my best wishes, I am

Sincerely yours in St. Dominic,
H. F. Ward, O.P.
Provincial

Letter: October 1968

Province of the Holy Name, Volume VIII, Number 1

Naval Air Station: Imperial Beach, California

Fr. Jenner writes:

It is not really a large place as far as footage goes; not very many square acres.  But there are about 3,000 men assigned to the Station.  The Naval Air Station, Imperial Beach, the Helicopter Capital of the World, is not the largest Navy installation in the world, but we here know it is one of the best.

There are no quarters for dependent families on the Station, the married men and their families live in civilian housing in the neighboring communities.  The permanent residents living on the Station are the single enlisted men.  The ground has just been broken for a Bachelor Officers' Quarters which are now under construction.

There is a small Chapel aboard the Station.  Our little Winchester Cathedral here accommodates a total of 111 persons (seated).  But the truth of the matter is the place is usually bulging at the seams and one expects either the siding to spring loose, the roof to pop off or the floor to fall through with the usual Sunday attendance.

After each of the two Sunday Masses, there is a coffee social at which those attending the Mass may visit with one another.   Fortunately, there is a building with adequate space close to the Chapel for these gatherings.

We are fortunate to have a very good guitarist to lead our Folk-Song Masses each Sunday (11:15AM Mass).  The congregation is much more inclined to join in the singing of Folk-hymns than they were to sing the former hymns-type.

Although our space is very limited, we do have the Offertory procession and the Entrance processions.  On Sundays, extra chairs are placed in the Sanctuary to help accommodate some of the extra people.  Of course the Chapel is used for Protestant Services too, so the Sanctuary must be adaptable for more than Catholic needs.

During the 11:15AM Mass there is a Katechism [Sic] Kindergarten for preschool children and a nursery for the tiny-tots.

Private instructions, counseling and interviews keep the week days filled.  Attending meetings of various types and groups add various textures to the usual schedule.  Some of the meetings are Navy sponsored, others are within the Community framework.  Just recently, I have been selected to serve on the Board of Directors of the Imperial Beach Community Economic Opportunity Center as the representative of the Imperial Beach Ministerial Society.  I am sure this will prove most educational and enlightening.

One of the occupational dangers of a military Chaplain is that he can lose contact with the realities of a community through being sheltered, in a certain way, within the military milieu.  (People may have to skimp and budget in the Service, but there is no poverty in the military.)

You could say the set-up here is similar to a small parish.  The daily and Sunday Masses, the instructions, counseling, hospital visits are similar to those of a community situation.

Date of Birth	Date of Profession	Date of Ordination	Date of Death
June 26, 1925	July 18, 1945	July 16, 1951	January 9, 2003

Archive record: XII:286