I was fascinated by him from the first day we met, back in August 1983. We were as different as night and day, and yet we resonated in a way I doubt either of us ever fully understood.  Surely not me.

Then-Father Thomas Doran knew his history. He knew his church. He knew a lot. He knew how to assert himself. And he knew when to defer. It wasn’t often.

Eleven years after I met him he was appointed Bishop of Rockford. There was a lag between the appointment and his ordination, but that didn’t slow him down. He had a plan. Only a day or so after his appointment was announced, he called me in to say he wanted to use all the marvels of mass media to spread the Gospel. He wanted me to help him. It was, in most respects, a sweet adventure.

He immediately sent me shopping for time on local radio. When I found a half-hour a week, he took it.

When an hour became available, he jumped at it. Later, when the U.S. bishops said the church should do more with radio, he obtained several small translator stations and helped a lay group get a low power station license.

When other dioceses were cutting back their newspapers, he told us to return to weekly frequency. We had one of the very first diocesan websites, and even before web browser software was generally available we were running our own digital communications network. He blessed it all and encouraged us to keep building.

The new Catechism of the Catholic Church had been published in 1992, and as soon as he could after he was ordained bishop he produced a multi-part video series summarizing its major teaching. He did the segments without notes, gracefully wrapping each of them precisely on the director’s cue.

When EWTN came calling, he responded with a series on church teaching. The EWTN crew thought it would take three days to tape. He did it in a day and a half, not stopping to take a break for anything between segments. The crew was amazed – and completely exhausted.

His predecessor, Bishop Arthur J. O’Neill, had been editor of The Observer, and although he was a fierce defender of its ministry, after becoming bishop he was happy to be relieved of the obligation to produce a column for each issue. Bishop Doran was just as eager to write a column, and started doing so immediately.

He initiated an annual Media Appreciation Luncheon featuring prominent speakers, among them Archbishop John P. Foley, head of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, later appointed a cardinal by Pope Benedict XVI. Bishop Doran was also regularly available for interviews with media in northern Illinois, and on occasion for national media — including The New York Times.

Media was a good fit for Bishop Doran because he was, in fact, a huge introvert. He was more at home on the altar or the studio than he was in the church basement, hobnobbing with strangers, even friendly and admiring ones.

The ambiguity of spontaneous social interchange was cherished recreation for Bishop O’Neill. It was a cross for Bishop Doran, one he was always reluctant to bear — although bear it he did if need be for the sake of the church.

He was my boss, the Vicar for Catholic Education, when he was appointed rector of St. Peter Cathedral in July of 1984. By then he had enjoyed a long and distinguished career as a diocesan administrator, dating back to his days as secretary to Bishop Loras T. Lane, Bishop O’Neill’s predecessor. But he had very little experience in pastoral ministry. He confided that he was uneasy.

His fear was not without cause. As a diocesan administrator, he was something of a known quantity to St. Peter parishioners, and not all of them were thrilled with the appointment. They feared they were getting a dry and distant parish leader.

But before long their tune changed. People noted — and appreciated — how their new rector had a short and snappy homily for every daily Mass, and how he went regularly to visit the sick and connect them to the sacraments. It couldn’t have been easy for him. But he did it — religiously.

When parishioners scheduled a beer and brat benefit for the father of a large family who had died suddenly, he was there — in a sport shirt, with a smile on his face and a beer in his hand. On that night he hobnobbed like a natural.

Soon enough he was summoned to Rome to fill a prestigious post on the Roman Rota, and from there he was appointed eighth Bishop of Rockford. The rest, as they say, is history.

In the course of working with him for three decades, it became clear to me that long before his ordination as a priest he was determined to be a devoted servant to his church. More than anything else in life, he wanted to be obedient to church teaching and law. That prompted me to tell him near the end of our time together that he was the most obedient man I had ever met.

That’s not the side of a bishop we laity often get to see, but I believe it was his organizing principle – one to which he faithfully and consistently devoted his life.

One time when we were on the radio together, I referenced the notion of “unconditional love.” He jumped in to tell me and our audience that there was no such thing. I didn’t think it was my place to contradict him on the air, so I let it go. Still, in the life of a man who wanted to be right about everything, I’d like to think he was wrong that day.

But I’m grateful to believe he knows that now — and is thrilled for a grace-filled lesson learned beyond the grave.

I wish him peace, eternal peace. But even more, I wish him love.

And it consoles me beyond words to think he is awash in it now.

Owen Phelps is the retired Communication Director of the Diocese of Rockford and former Editor of The Observer.