The Rev. Dr. Howard W. (Doc) Whitaker died following a spirited contest with leukemia. He was 71. The arc of his career is best described as a Charles Dickens novel heavily annotated by the Holy Spirit.
His first job out of college was on the Baltimore City Police Department. He lasted two years. The experience rattled him so thoroughly that he operated a garage and wrecker service in the mountains of Western North Carolina for the next seven years. He married, had children, and could have led a quiet, redeemed life. But God draws straight with crooked lines.
He migrated back to church in his 30s, being ordained as an Episcopal priest in 1988. He was an early Director of St. Timothy’s Farm & Mission, Barnes Mountain, KY, and served on diocesan staff for the Bishop of Lexington. He worked with Southern Empowerment Project and Appalachian Peoples’ Service Organization. He was a picket line pastor for the Pittston Coal strike. He was a Rector of the pre-colonial North Sassafras Parish on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
Wherever he was, he always made good use of the “hillbilly highway” running in both directions. He trained with pastoral care departments at Children’s Hospital, Cincinnati; Lakeshore Mental Health Institute, Knoxville; and Sheppard-Pratt Psychiatric Hospital, Baltimore, where he served his advanced and supervisory residencies as a clinical chaplain.
He emerged in 1994 as Director of Clinical Pastoral Services in Chattanooga, TN, providing trauma care for individuals and families, as well as clinical interim ministry for congregations. During these years, he was a frequent national conference speaker, providing continuing education on religious issues in psychiatry for chaplains, counselors, psychologists, and physicians. He was noted for his work with trauma-based personality disorders.
He taught the required parenting courses for Georgia’s Lookout Mountain Judicial Circuit for 16 years. With Georgia Homestead, he helped develop that state’s first in-home therapy to families in imminent danger of losing custody of minor children. In Chattanooga, he is remembered as the Interim Rector of Thankful and St. Mary’s Parish following the murder of one priest and sudden resignation of another. Citing a long linage of Methodist circuit riders and ministers, he could be a provocative preacher. He was proud of the ironic distinction of being asked “never again” to preach at Grace Episcopal Church, Chattanooga.
He arrived in New Jersey in 2001 with the American Red Cross following the World Trade Center attacks, serving rotations as Chief Chaplain for the New Jersey Family Assistance Center at Liberty Park. He and his staff accompanied New Jersey families to “ground zero” by ferry to witness where their loved ones had vanished. After a sabbatical as an over the road truck driver, he returned to New Jersey and served eight years as Director of Pastoral Services at Greystone Park (State) Psychiatric Hospital, where he was part of the executive management team that built and transitioned Greystone from a sprawling Victorian ruin into its present new hospital. He was chair of the hospital ethics committee and consulted with other institutions in the region. After leaving Greystone, he continued to commute north, doing clinical interventions in churches in the mid-Atlantic region for another decade.
In retirement, he grew quieter. From his Scottsboro, Alabama, office, he continued to see a few clients, kept a commercial apiary, and operated a used bookstore. He enjoyed his local anonymity. When prying minds inquired of Mz. Kay, “What does he do?” she would slyly reply, “He brings me coffee in the morning.” Occasionally, he would deploy as a towboat chaplain for Seamen’s Church Institute working inland waterways as far as Joliet and Mobile, typically for deaths and traumas.
“Papa Doc” was not the standard issue Episcopal priest and had little interest with what he considered privileged congregations. He spent most his ministerial energy on the walking wounded and working poor. Doc knew who his people were, and his people knew their priest. A diocesan executive described Whitaker’s pastoral presence by citing the biblical narrative of 1 Samuel: And every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him. “The weird and wounded came out of the woods like ants at a picnic. It drove regular church folks crazy.” Bishop Elliot Sorge of Easton once deadpanned: “Good priests are always trouble. Doc is dependably very good.” Another bishop remembers pointedly warning Doc about some of his more notorious parishioners who “seemed to have a lot of problems.” Doc’s response was, “Yes, they do have problems. And now they have a church. That’s a good thing, right?” It is difficult to say whether Doc’s remark was sarcasm or grand naïveté.
At a traditional “Blessing of Hounds & Horses” in the Kentucky bluegrass, Whitaker could stun the hunt club by insisting on also blessing the fox. After blessing privileged pets on the Feast of St. Francis he might move on to the strays at the local shelter, or black bears for animal activists in rural New York. He scandalized placid congregations with his “Final Affairs Fair,” which helped people plan their own death care. As a matter of course, dolls, stuffed animals, and action figures received prayers along with their children at the altar rail during communion. He infuriated blue haired altar guilds by “liberating” — then hiding — the corpus from crucifixes during Easter. He offended traditionalists by appointing teenage girls to distribute the sacrament on Christmas Eve. He needled vestries by asking them the purpose of their church. He celebrated “house blessings” for same sex couples long before those unions were recognized in the Episcopal Church. Nevertheless, bishops repeatedly called him to assignments. “He can be aggravating,” reflected one, “But he most definitely gets the job done.”
Born in Jackson, Mississippi in 1953, the son of a surgeon father and public health nurse mother, Howard Wilson Whitaker, III, grew up the rural river town of Savannah, Tennessee, where his father practiced medicine. He was educated (boarding) at Columbia Military Academy, American University, Episcopal Theological Seminary in Kentucky, and Wesley Theological Seminary. He was the author of A Pastoral Commentary on Dissociative Disorders, as well as articles, letters, reviews, and sermons in professional publications.
He is survived by his wife and business partner, Kay Elaine Hamrick (Mz. Kay) of Scottsboro, Alabama; two children from his first marriage, Ben Whitaker and Eva Whitaker, and their mother, Rosalie Smith Whitaker, all of Chattanooga, Tennessee; a sister, Cheryl Whitaker McFarland, of Roswell, Georgia; grandchildren; and a host of former clients, patients, and parishioners. The Episcopal Burial Office will be read at interment in Frankfort Cemetery (KY) where he joins family, artists, generals, statesmen, scoundrels, and Daniel Boone.
In lieu of memorial gifts, and citing the Gospel of Luke, Doc’s suggestion would be for people to “for forth go and do likewise.”
