The Shepherd Who Didn't Run. Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda

thirteen years, and met his violent death on July 28, 1981.

      The Church has affirmed that Father Rother died as a martyr, in odium fidei (“in hatred of the faith”). That declaration cleared the way for his beatification. It is my ardent hope that he will soon be canonized as a saint for the glory of God and for the benefit of the universal Church.

      At this moment in the history of the Catholic Church, we need attractive and compelling models of priestly holiness. We need witnesses to pastoral charity. In the wake of the terrible abuse crisis that has caused such devastation in our Church and in society, the recognition of this generous parish priest’s simple manner of life and the sacrificial manner of his death serve as a tremendous affirmation to priests and faithful alike in the United States and around the world.

      Here in Oklahoma, where Catholics are a small minority, the impact of Father Rother’s beatification has been a powerful spiritual impetus in our efforts in the New Evangelization. As I have seen since his beatification, his witness is inspiring priests, seminarians, and the faithful far beyond Oklahoma.

      Similarly, in Guatemala, where the Church has suffered bitterly, the beatification of Father Rother has affirmed many suffering members of the clergy and faithful who esteem Blessed Stanley (Padre Apla’s) as their martyr and saint.

      Saints are local. They come from ordinary families, parishes, and communities like Okarche. But their impact is universal. They belong to the whole Church. They remind us that holiness is our fundamental vocation. Saints represent the full flowering of the grace of our baptism.

      I am grateful for this book, the first published biography of Blessed Stanley Rother. It is my hope that through this work many more people will be inspired by his beautiful life and valiant witness as an icon of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who did not run.

      Most Reverend Paul S. Coakley

      Archbishop of Oklahoma City

      December 12, 2018

      Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

       Introduction

      On May 25, 1963, my brother Stanley Francis Rother was ordained as a priest for the Diocese of Oklahoma City and Tulsa. The following statement was his selection for inscription on his ordination card: “For myself I am a Christian. For the sake of others I am a Priest.”

       “For Myself I Am a Christian”

      Stanley Francis Rother, the eldest, and his four siblings — Elizabeth, James, Carolyn (who died in infancy), and Thomas — were raised in a staunchly religious atmosphere, as were most German Catholic families in the rural settlement of Okarche, Oklahoma, in the late 1930s, ’40s, and early ’50s. Our family home was literally surrounded by the extended family. Grandparents lived within a mile, and many uncles, aunts, and first and second cousins were within three or four miles, with church and school a little beyond three miles.

      This extended family, along with the experiences of the church and school communities, was interlinked with our immediate family in developing a deep faith and lifelong values indispensable for providing a solid Christian life. The families worshiped at Holy Trinity Church; the children attended Holy Trinity School, from first through twelfth grades, under the tutelage of the Sisters Adorers of the Blood of Christ. Religion classes, daily Mass, sacramental preparation, daily Rosary in the home, and Sunday evening holy hour and benediction, along with other seasonal religious practices were integrated into our daily lives. Our Christian values were indeed formed by the people with whom we associated, and we certainly had some of the best!

       Come and Follow Me (cf. Mt 4:19)

      For the eighteen formative years of his life, Stanley was absorbed in the security of his family, church, and school. When he journeyed to the seminary some five hundred miles away, he took with him his faith, his values, his prayer life, and the prayers of others, but left behind the network of people and practices that had supported him, encouraged him, and nourished him. Armed with this deep faith life and a strong value system, Stanley embarked on the next phase of his life.

      Only after I recently read from the diaries that he kept in those first few years in the seminary did I realize how the religious practices from his home life continued to be so important to him. I was even more surprised to read that he was experiencing such challenging struggles in his studies. Though he had these unexpected academic challenges during this time, I believe he became stronger for it. Stan was a man of prayer. he had an unwavering desire to be a priest, and he believed and trusted that in God he would find his way.

       “For the Sake of Others I Am a Priest”

As I reflected on Stanley’s fifty-fifth anniversary of ordination this year, I remembered the many family, friends, and hometown parishioners who joyfully gathered for his ordination at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in Oklahoma City. But how could we know that in eighteen years most of these same friends and relatives would again gather in Our Lady’s cathedral, this time for his funeral Mass?

      Father Stanley’s first four years following ordination were spent serving as an assistant in four different parishes in Oklahoma, which involved a variety of ministerial duties and activities. Periodically, I would receive a letter from him, in which he would usually share a bit about the parish where he was serving and what he was doing. He was always positive and obviously enjoyed his work, except for the time he shared his woes about trying to keep his elementary-school religion classes under control: “Would you please give me some ideas I could try?” Since, as a teacher myself, I had some experience in that area, I shared a few hints with him.

      In the spring of 1967, Father Stanley asked his bishop if he could serve as a missionary priest in the parish of Santiago Apóstol (St. James the Apostle), in the town of Santiago Atitlán, Guatemala, site of an Oklahoma-sponsored mission. After some deliberation, the bishop granted the request. Thus that summer Father Stan literally left all that was familiar — family, friends, food, language, the red dirt of Oklahoma — packed his pickup with supplies the missionaries in Santiago had requested, and headed south (some 2,500 miles) to his new parish, his new beginning.

       God’s Flock Is in Your Midst; Give It a Shepherd’s Care (cf. 1 Pt 5:2)

      Stan incurred unexpected realities as he gradually found his niche with coworkers and among the people with whom he was destined to serve. Obviously, he possessed hidden reserves of inner strength, convictions, and a deep faith that motivated him to succeed. Learning to understand and speak the languages of the people, both Spanish and Tz’utujil, were noteworthy accomplishments for him. Because of Stan’s ability to converse with the people in their native languages, there was increased involvement with them in their sacramental life, liturgies, and family life. He visited the elderly and sick in their homes and learned and appreciated their customs. Stan’s identification with the people of Santiago Atitlán was not difficult for him because of the simplicity of lifestyle he himself embraced.

       A Glimpse of My Brother as a Priest and Missionary

      I was blessed with the opportunity to spend two different summers, 1972 and 1975, working at the mission with Father Stan and three sisters from my religious community, the Sisters Adorers of the Blood of Christ. These summers contained a cache of treasured memories for me, as our time together as adults had been very limited due to our ministries. To observe his relationship with the parishioners, how comfortable he was in his surroundings, and his dealing with many unexpected events throughout a day was a precious gift to me.

      It was most rewarding to see Stan in different roles of ministry: celebrating liturgies was special, going to the market, showing some young men how to fix the truck that wasn’t running, fixing an electrical problem in the hospital, working on the farm with the men, having fun with the children, visiting the elderly or sick in their homes, burying someone’s loved one, and myriad other activities. So obvious to me was his gentleness, his truly being for others (not just doing for them), and his attentiveness and responsiveness to them when he was locked in conversation. I was