One of Canada’s most remarkable and admirable Christian pastors, Bishop Fred Henry, died on Tuesday. He retired as the Catholic bishop of Calgary in early 2017. As it turned out, he would have one last great service to offer during his nearly eight years of retirement: insistently calling for truth regarding the “truth and reconciliation” process for residential schools.
I grew up in Calgary and so for more than 25 years — Henry started as bishop of Calgary in 1998 — I crossed paths with him on visits back home to see my family. He was always kind to me and made me welcome, taking time to talk whenever I asked. And sometimes even when I didn’t! He was not at all shy about offering corrections on something or other I had written, always pointed but without rancour.
For a time, Henry had the nickname “Red Fred” for being a man of the left in a more conservative city. It quickly passed as it was not accurate. He did take up causes associated with the left — labour rights, ecology, civil liberties, poverty alleviation at home, especially homelessness in Calgary, and overseas development aid. But he was equally strong on pro-life matters, the definition of marriage and the scourge of gambling.
He clashed with the Progressive Conservative government over its video slot machines, a way for the government to make money in a manner that is both regressive and libertine. And he walked his own talk, forbidding Catholic parishes and schools from fundraising at “community” casinos.
He was not “red” except that he lived in bold colours, not pale pastels. I appreciated Henry’s progressivism in political terms, even when I did not share it. Gospel values are greater than any political program, and Canada has a proud social Gospel tradition — consider only the prairie pastors who were prominent in the NDP, from Tommy Douglas to Bill Blaikie. The faith is always greater than politics. In a time when Christian faith in our common life is often considered only a right-of-centre phenomenon, Henry corrected that misperception.
His willingness to speak clearly and confidently was so unusual that it earned him the attention of the Canada Revenue Agency, which told him to shut up about public policy issues during election times. Henry was not intimidated by bureaucratic ukases from secular fundamentalists; he saw them off as the petty tyrants they were.
Henry knew that the most important work of a priest is in the sanctuary, the pulpit, hearing confessions, visiting the sick and imprisoned, comforting the afflicted and consoling the grieving. At the same time, the Christian faith makes a contribution to our common life as well, whether it be feeding the hungry, educating children or insisting on justice and liberty. He was a priest who had more than a little of the prophet in him.
Henry would not go along to get along when it came to injustice. And the injustice against which he protested in his last years was the historical slander against Christian missionaries in regard to residential schools, in particular after the “discovery of unmarked graves” in Kamloops.
He was by no means hostile to authentic reconciliation. While bishop of Thunder Bay, Henry established the Indigenous parish of Kitchitwa Kateri Anamewgamik. But he would not abide untruths that were obstacles to reconciliation.
From his hospital bed in July 2023 Henry insisted that without truth there can be no genuine reconciliation.
“Would it help Indigenous people across Canada to better lives if the Catholic Church did go so far as to take responsibility for the murder and clandestine burial of thousands of residential school children in the name of reconciliation?” Henry asked. “No, it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t improve the lives of Indigenous people one iota if that monstrous libel against the Oblates, the Sisters of St. Ann, the Grey Nuns et al were to become the accepted ‘truth’ in Canada.”
Henry was, even amongst Christian leaders, something of a lonely voice. That is less so now, as abundant journalistic investigation and historical research have now undermined the “monstrous libel” that ran riot around the world. Still, there are few with his courage and clarity.
That courage was not only public but private. Only upon his “early” retirement at age 74 did I learn that he had lived for decades with near-debilitating chronic pain. He never whispered a word about his sufferings to me, even on my last visit when he was tethered to oxygen tubes.
Upon his retirement I wrote that the words of St. Paul could be applied to Calgary’s bishop: For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? (I Corinthians 14:8). Henry’s trumpet never sounded uncertain. He spoke the truth of Catholic teaching in a culture where speaking clearly on anything at all — let alone the Christian tradition — is often considered impolite, even offensive.
One prays that the trumpets Bishop Henry will soon hear are those of the heavenly liturgy. But we shall miss his trumpet here below. Requiescat in pace.
National Post