"This Augustinian's Spirituality": An interview with Fr. Jim Halstead, O.S.A.

Fr. Jim Halstead, O.S.A., reflects on his curiosity, on community and companionship, and what Augustinian Spirituality means to him. The following conversation has been edited for clarity and space.

Fr. Jim Halstead, O.S.A. (JH): My name is Jim Halstead. I'm an Augustinian priest originally from St. Matthew Parish in Flint, Michigan. I grew up in, and identify as home, a little town outside of Flint — Grand Blanc, Michigan. I have two sisters, Jackie and Jan. My parents, Jim and Bea, were married for fifty-two years before my father died in 1997. Our 1950s, Midwest family?? Stable!

In retrospect, I had a delightful growing up. My grandparents had a summer home in northern Michigan where we would go on weekends and on summer vacations. So, I grew up with small town life by the week and a lake, boats, fishing, swimming and outdoors on weekends. Wonderful Michigan stuff. Pure Michigan!

Rory Dayton (RD): What was the biggest fish you ever caught?

JH: Oh, a 14-inch perch was the biggest one in the summer, and in the winter, through the ice, a giant trout! Two feet long?? I caught it on a “tip-up.” You know, the thing that sits on the ice. It has a little flag that tips up, pops up when you catch something. I remember running up the hill dragging the fish after pulling it through the ice.  It was this giant trout! I thought, "Oh my God, I've never seen a fish this big before!"

RD: So was it catch and release, or did you actually—?

JH: Oh, no. My grandmother cleaned it and we ate it. I was the man of the house that night, bringing home the food.

I used to be intrigued by life in the lake, especially by fish. I wondered, "What are fish thinking? And the northern Michigan sky at night: How far is it that I can see? What's out there? Who is out there?"

They told me back in school and in church, “God's out there. Heaven is up there. Hell is  down there.”

And I thought, "Wait... I see the water and fish, where's the gateway to hell?"

Family legend says that my first words were not “mama” or “dada.” Depending on version of the story, they were "What is that?" (my mother's version) or “Why?” (my father’s version). I've always been curious and encouraged to follow my curiosity as much as I could.

RD: As you followed your curiosity and explored the real world, did you find answers that satisfied you?

JH: For a time, yes.

But that word: the “real.” I've always asked, “What's real? Why is that real and not un-real?” That's my curiosity. If you go through my library, you'll see phases of my curiosity. And in the courses I taught over the years, you'll see the objects of my adult and professional curiosity.

RD: What are some of those phases?

JH: Well, there's the lake and fish phase, the nature and sky phase, the human psyche phase, the philosophical phase, and the religious and moral phase. The philosophical phase awakened early, but not until my undergraduate years at Tolentine did I have language to talk about things I'd been thinking about forever — that is, "What's real?” “What's unreal?” “Why is that ‘good’?” “Why evil?” “What is ‘presence’?” “What's real presence?” “Might there be unreal presence?”

Then epistemology. “What's knowledge?” “How is knowledge acquired?” “Is there true knowledge and false knowledge/error?” “How sure should you be about knowledge?”

When I got into theology school at CTU, I questioned the notion of “salvation.” “From what?” “From whom?” “For what?” “How?” “How does Jesus fit into that picture?” and ”Why Jesus and not someone else?” Zachary Hayes taught me soteriology. And eschatology.

At the same time, the notion of “conscience” bothered and fascinated me. People have “consciences,” a “sense of responsibility” and “freedom.” There is also said to be “God's will” and “God's law” — “sin.” What do all these words mean and how do they relate to each other?

In doctoral school in Belgium, I wrote my STL thesis and doctoral dissertation on conscience in Catholic thought. My pastoral ministry and preaching applied my learning to issues like war, peace, nuclear weapons, marriage and divorce, sex, and communion after divorce and remarriage. Today, immigration and environmental issues make me think.

When I started doing funerals as a young priest, I started wondering about afterlife. “What's resurrection?” “What has the Tradition taught?” “What do we let go of when we die?” And “If there's no hole at the bottom of the lake to get you down to hell or in the sky to go up to heaven, well, what sense do you make of those theological words and symbols? And the paintings, poetry and music of the church?”

So the integration of multiple disciplines – natural science, human science, philosophy and theology – in order to understand life – that has haunted me for the last 70 years.

RD: What are some of the places you find the Divine? Or maybe I should say, what are your favorite places?

JH:  As a boy, a younger man or now?? As a boy, nature. As a younger man, add music — classical music. Then, add well-done ritual. Occasionally in personal prayer. A very carefully written and insightful book. (Karl Rahner’s “Encounters with Silence” changed my life.) In those things, I found the Divine. Today, at 76, I also find the Divine in friends a lot of parishioners … and I find the Divine in my present frustrations. Or, rather, today the Divine finds and embraces me!

RD: Explain.

JH: I’m normally pretty private about this stuff, Rory, but now Augustine and Augustinian spirituality is telling me to “Confess.” Like St. Augustine, “Go public, even if you don’t want to. Do it anyway, tell the truth. Proclaim Good News.” (It's why I gave that interview to the Les Turner ALS Foundation. It’s why I did the interview at St. Nicholas. Its why I speak with you, Rory. Ask whatever you want and I'll answer the best I can.)

Here is reality: I can't move the way I used to or do the things that I used to like to do. I cannot drive a car, ride a bike or swim. I can no longer preside at sacraments and/or preach. I cannot teach a class. I am losing my ability to speak. More losses are coming.

Rory, today The Divine, the Living God, finds and grasps me in two places: in my limits caused by ALS and in the companionship in suffering offered by friends. I experience God when alone, in remembering, in praying over and for things over which I have no control and in looking forward to “… what (my) eye has not seen, nor (my) ear has heard.” That's where I experience God today. In the frustrating limits and losses that cause me suffering, God is with me.

RD: What is Augustinian spirituality?

JH: What is Augustinian spirituality? I don’t know. I know the spirituality of one Augustinian. Unitas, veritas, caritas, in communitas.

To do what? Well, it's no longer to work as I once did. I’m no longer a school teacher, a weekend supply priest or a low-level bureaucrat. So, to what end? To give thanks to God, to revel in human love and Divine Grace, and to receive final grace of Resurrected Life.

With a temperament like mine, overly intellectual and often stubborn and hard-hearted, God has graciously said (and this is metaphorical, Rory) "You have a disease that is going to take a couple years to do its nasty yet saving work. The reason for that is that it’s going to take you that long to fully realize and be thankful for your blessings, to receive the fullness of Grace, and for you to surrender yourself to my Divine Love.”

That's this Augustinian’s spirituality at the end of this life.