Unsworth's tales of the community

His career in journalism began with a letter that contained the combination of charm, empathy, humor and sharp wit that characterized his work for the next 24 years. Tim Unsworth, who died April 30 at age 78 after a long illness, was, as much as anyone in the Catholic world, our community's storyteller for more than two decades--from the early 1980s to just beyond the turn of the new century. Unsworth, whose columns appeared regularly in NCR, understood that our faith is inextricably tied to our stories, that we are raised, as religious people, on stories. As our storyteller, he showed us a full reflection of ourselves, our heroic, cowardly, saintly, scoundrelly selves. And it was clear he loved us all.

If he lampooned something, he did it with a certain affection: "The biretta represented ecclesiastical testosterone. It was the clerical magician's top hat from which all manner of mysterious love, forgiveness and stern direction came. A man with enough faith to wear one of those funny-looking pomponned caps had to have gotten a call from God."

A native of Ohio, he became a member of the Christian Brothers of Ireland, but left the order in 1970 and married Jean Morman, an artist and former member of the Sisters of Mercy. In their latter years, the two traveled widely, he lecturing, she collecting art and creating work of her own. They talked about each other and their interests in ways that made you wish you could listen in on their conversations.

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In that aforementioned letter, an open letter addressed to the newly appointed Catholic archbishop of Chicago, Joseph Bernardin, Unsworth imparted some advice: Go get a dell sandwich, take a walk or ride a bus, move out of the mansion. Jean sent it to NCR, and editors liked it so much they used it on the front page and asked him to keep writing. He did, and proved the letter was not a one-time fluke.

He had an eye for detail that pointed toward bigger truths. On religious women, he wrote: "When churchmen meet, the underlying issue on any agenda is always power. While men debate their two-layer items, women go to the heart of the matter, take many more risks and accomplish much more. As a result, the sisters are measurably further along in their thinking and doing--and this sets some miters askew."

That nudge to his archbishop to get out among the people was born of a deep compassion for the church of the everyday and for those who felt spurned by the institution. "Perhaps God has permitted the enormous leakage from the priesthood and sisterhood," he wrote, "in order to supply ministers to souls who have wandered far beyond the shadows of official steeples."

In Tim's world, our often small construction of God--and the community called Catholic--becomes big and robust, stretching the bounds of generosity and mercy.

An obituary can be found at ncronline.org.

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