By Fr. Christopher Stoley
Sacred Heart Church, Crete
Hispanic Ministry
The times I feel most like a priest are when I am doing things in Spanish.
Allow me to explain: a priest, by definition, is one who offers sacrifice. If there is anything that has described my Hispanic Ministry experience, it’s sacrifice. To be clear, that’s not a bad thing—it makes me feel like a missionary, giving up who I was, in order to be who the people need me to be. This has been invaluable in my ministry as a priest, in my service to both the Hispanic and the Anglo populations. In order to clear this up, I should probably take you through my journey into Hispanic Ministry.
I was ordained with my seven classmates in the illustrious class of 2015, and was assigned to Sacred Heart Church of St. James Parish in Crete, which at the time was around 70% Hispanic. At the time, my knowledge of Spanish began and ended with nothing.
Luckily, there is a tradition that encourages ordinandi to pray for anything on their hearts during the Litany of the Saints at ordination. Score! So I prayed for three things: health, wisdom, and to learn Spanish. So far, I have received one of those things, and am hopeful for the others.
When I got to the parish, I knew three words in Spanish: taco, burrito, and another word I can’t repeat. Now, in a small town, if you’re new, no one trusts you. So my first few months were filled with twiddling my thumbs and trying to find a way to learn Spanish. Salvation came when I met an employee at our school named Genoveva. She was our maintenance worker and she became my tutor. Since no one wanted to talk to the new guy, I found myself spending time working maintenance with her every day, anywhere from 20 minutes to eight hours—in Spanish, for the most part. It went like this for about nine months and then the bishop sent me to Guatemala with Father Doug Daro for more intensive language studies. This would turn out to be the best experience for my priesthood.
Father Ryan Kaup wrote in a recent SNR article about the power of a person’s story. I can say after my experience in Guatemala that I 100% agree. When I first started to get to know the people of my parish, I found that each person had a reason for coming to the U.S. While I could feel empathy for them, I felt disconnected from them. When I went to Guatemala, it all became real—I suddenly found myself in the context. It all clicked and I began to not only understand why, but experience why my parishioners felt they had to uproot and try something else.
Entering into the context completely changed how I interacted with my people. Before, I understood intellectually, but I didn’t truly understand until I was able to see where my people come from. Upon my return, I found myself able to enter their stories with a deeper sense of sympathy and connection. The stories strike differently, trust in their priest grows, a real familial love begins to blossom.
Thankfully, the ability to enter a person’s context easily translates between cultures, and I was able to show the same care for the Anglos of my parish—which was a surprise to me, since I’m also Anglo and have lived the context my entire life. However, each person is different and has his or her own story, and context.
It is that context into which Christ himself entered to raise us out of the mire. As a priest, I am called to do the same: enter the context, give of myself, and raise my people out of the mire. I think that is a pretty good rule of life for all of us to follow – laity, clergy, and religious alike.
Thanks to these realizations, two rules for my own ministry formed automatically: first, my parishioners are human beings, respect them as such; second, they are your family, love them as such. The rules are obvious, of course, but can often get lost in the administrative nightmare that ministry can become. If I can keep these rules in the forefront of my mind, I know the people won’t get lost in the shuffle. When I show I care about their context, the people intuitively know I care for them, and that makes building a loving, paternal relationship with them easier.
Continued sacrifice; continued entrance into their context, makes an encounter with Christ more accessible, and ultimately that’s what it’s all about.
