Faith and perseverance
Retiring priest Father Collins celebrated Mass with fellow parishioner and friend, newly ordained Father Anthony del Cid Lucero. (Troy C. Hull | Catholic News Herald)NEWTON — Father Jim Collins never let his disability stop him from answering God’s call. After a two-decade journey to ordination, he spent three decades serving the Diocese of Charlotte – 26 of them as pastor of St. Joseph Parish. Now retired, he continues his vocation, joining dozens of other retired priests who still faithfully minister to the people of God.
“My parish is my life. I love this church. I’ve learned love and acceptance, especially within this community,” he says. “No matter what, I will try to stay in this area.”
Father Collins is the featured priest for the diocese’s 2025 Priest Retirement Collection campaign, which raises funds to support our retired priests.
Parishioners admire Father Collins’ faith, his sense of humor and his stand-out homilies, but most of all, his perseverance in the face of adversity. Born with cerebral palsy, he talks with a mild speech impediment. Despite his physical handicap, his persistent and joyful faith shines through.
Dennis Schell, a parishioner since 1978, still remembers Father Collins’ first homily: “He said, ‘I’m sure that you all have a hard time understanding me, but you’ll be surprised at how much of what you’re hearing improves in 30 days.’ And, sure enough, it did.
“His journey has been so hard. His whole life people told him he couldn’t do things because of his handicap, but he has proved them all wrong,” Schell says.
A Miraculous Start
Father Collins was born six weeks premature at Mercy Hospital in Rockville Center, Long Island, New York, in 1949. He had severe jaundice that doctors treated with a series of blood transfusions, but they lost hope as the infant went in and out of shock.
A nurse at the hospital, Sister Philomena, and her fellow nuns prayed a novena asking for the intercession of St. Philomena, the patron saint of infants.
“I credit the intercession of St. Philomena for my life,” he says. During a later trip to Italy, he touched the catacomb where her remains were discovered and acquired a relic which remains encased in the sanctuary.
While he survived, there was a cost: cerebral palsy. The permanent disability left him 60 percent deaf, with a speech impediment and impaired motor skills.
An Early Call
Reading and writing did not come easy for the young Jim Collins. The intentions of his eyes and ears never matched the direction of his mouth and hands.
“I hated school so much because I couldn’t do the things the other kids could do. I couldn’t hear,” he recalls. “Now I have a hearing aid, and I can read lips.”
His second year of first grade, during Mass when he received his first Holy Communion, is when he first sensed “the call.”
“I remember saying I’m going to be a priest. Every time I talked about it, people would say I couldn’t do that because of my handicap. Maybe a (religious order) brother, but not a priest.”
Collins knew all things were possible with God, so he never gave up. He just fought harder.
Father Collins baptized one more child before his retirement, but there will be many more to come, as he lives minutes from the parish and is still actively moving forward with his priestly ministry.
What to do with the call
In the 1970s, Collins moved to Shelby with his parents and six siblings. They attended St. Mary Help of Christians Church, yet his hunger for God had him traveling to churches from the Triad to the mountains.
He befriended many clergy, became a leader in the Cursillo movement, and taught OCIA classes.
In 1976, he wrote his first letter to the diocese’s vocations director expressing his desire to become a priest. For three years, he did not receive a definitive answer. He knew there was one thing causing hesitation: his cerebral palsy.
His friends prayed for his healing. “After a while, I stepped away from that,” Father Collins said. “I told them, I don’t need to be healed. I need your love and acceptance.’”
Then he wrote to Charlotte Bishop Michael Begley. Would the diocese support him in becoming a priest? The answer was no.
Driving by the Diocesan Pastoral Center one day, he paid the bishop a courtesy call and talked face to face. He recalls telling Bishop Begley, “Bishop, I know you said ‘no’ to the priesthood, but what do I do with the call? The call won’t go away.”
Bishop Begley told him, “Jim, maybe the diaconate program would be good for you.”
Road to Ordination
At that time, the diocese’s permanent diaconate program was just getting established. Collins joined the inaugural class of men set to be ordained for the diocese.
In his third year of formation, he became ineligible for ordination due to his unemployed status, but he still finished the program and volunteered to help Father John Pagel at St. Lucien Parish in Spruce Pine.
Father Pagel saw Collins’ devotion to the faith and advocated for his ordination. In 1987, Collins was finally ordained a permanent deacon during a personal ordination Mass in Spruce Pine celebrated by then-Bishop John Donoghue. St. Lucien Church was too small to accommodate the crowd of family and friends, so a nearby Baptist church was used.
Still called
Serving as a deacon only strengthened Collins’ desire to be a priest. He yearned to consecrate the Eucharist and minister to his own flock.
Father Richard McCue, who by then had replaced Father Pagel at St. Lucien, saw his deacon’s deep faith and asked, “Jimmy, you ever thought about being a priest?”
With a deep chuckle, Collins shook his head. “You don’t want that story, Father.”
But Father McCue did listen, and the timing was perfect.
Father Collins recalls: “They were ordaining a transitional deacon for the priesthood, and he was a blind man. When (the vocations director) saw that, he said to himself, ‘What’s my problem with Jimmy? He can see, he can hear, he can do everything I can do. Then I realized, I don’t have a problem with Jimmy.”
Nearly 15 years after first inquiring, his application to the seminary was accepted, and he was sent to Sacred Heart School of Theology in Wisconsin. He earned a master’s degree in divinity and was ordained a priest by then-Bishop William Curlin in 1995.
Through three bishops, 19 years and many challenges, Father Collins never settled for less than what God wanted.
Life as a priest
“Being a priest is not a right but a privilege, and the Church has to agree with that privilege,” he says. “I really appreciate the bishops over the years for giving me the opportunity to serve God.”
Father Collins officially retired on July 8, moving into an apartment a couple of miles from his former church. His 300 parishioners are overjoyed he’s remaining close by.
“His story is very inspiring, and he is a testament to me never to give up,” says Kara Antonio, St. Joseph’s office manager. She grew up with Father Collins as pastor. Like many parishioners,
Antonio was confirmed and married by Father Collins, and he baptized her four children.
“I can’t imagine not having him around. When I was a child, we would go to daily Mass and then our family would eat lunch with him outside,” she reminisces. “He introduced me to my husband and let my kids play in the office while I worked. He knew me when I was 7, and now he knows my 7-year-old. He’s been a huge part of my life.
“He has been the face of this parish. He knows the accounting side, the holy side. He can say very inspiring homilies. He is a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to priests,” she says.
Father Collins’ relationships with his parishioners run deep. He has traveled with them on family vacations and pilgrimages to Italy, Mexico, Ireland and more.
His “retirement” plans include a return trip to Italy to visit the daughter of one of his 90-year-old parishioners and voyaging with Schell to visit St. Joseph Oratory of Montreal.
With brothers and sisters throughout the Carolinas, there is no lack of places where Father Collins could live, but he can’t really imagine a home far from his Newton parish. He plans to remain close to the flock he has shepherded for decades, hoping to spend more time with those he considers his Church family.
— Lisa M. Geraci