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NFPC 2007 Convention Touchstone Award Acceptance Address
 2007 Touchstone Award Acceptance Address by Rev. Stephen Porter on behalf of International Priests in the United States
NFPC Convention, April 26, 2007 | Tampa, Florida
Aloha! ¡Buenas Tardes! Good Evening!
Gracias por su reconocimiento esta noche, les agradezco esto momento en mi vida.
Nosotros somos los sacerdotes internacionales; international priests living, working and praying amongst you, can you see us?
People often wonder when and how we came to this country. Even though I, personally, have been here for 18 years how each of us international priests came to this country is something we’ve rarely spoken about. Some believe we came here on a boat, a refugee of a war that tore our country apart and displaced us from our family and our homeland. Others say we came here because our family was already here and we were looking to join them. Some think they remember seeing us doing a mission appeal here during the summer years ago and figure that we just stayed on. There is speculation among some of the presbyterate that the American bishop came to our seminary and was looking for those of us who wanted a challenge and an adventure for life – a chance to be a missionary. Others believe we came here because we were sent by our bishop to do advance studies. There is even speculation among some that our home bishop made a deal with an American bishop because so many of our countrymen are here in his diocese already, and the American bishop wanted someone to minister to them in their native tongue. Some even said it was the “mighty buck.” Our reasons for coming to the United States were never simple. But the one thing we were sure about was that we wanted to be priests and we wanted to preach the gospel. We thought that was a good enough reason to come here. Can you see us?
¡Miren, estos Estados Unidos – Gringolandia! We have lots of names for the good old US of A, but what is it that you call your country: the land of opportunity, the melting pot – the great mosaic? Even though it seems like it was a lifetime ago we sometimes wonder if we didn’t make a mistake in coming here. It was not what we expected. No one ever prepared us for coming here. The entire time we traveled we were filled with doubts and anxiety. Did we make the right choice? Maybe we’d lost everything and everyone we knew, so what was there to keep us at home? We were leaving home and our life was about to change. At times there was no home left. Our families were dead or scattered. Our brothers and sisters - we never knew what happened to them – they separated us at the refugee camps. Some of our friends thought it was bad. Others thought it was a great, if sad, opportunity. As we left our family we were reminded that we were the oldest and it would still be our responsibility to take care of our parents. Now we would have ample opportunity to fulfill that responsibility. It took forever to get a visa however, even with the bishop’s help. The woman at the embassy kept asking: “Why are you going?” We told her how they needed priests in the United States. They would pay us more money than we could ever dream of. Our home bishop made it clear that $500 was to be sent to the chancery every month to assist with the seminary – you know he said, “We need the money, we are a poor diocese.” There was no discussion about coming here, the bishop called and informed us that we were coming to the United States as his ambassadors. We sat with the bishop the day before we left our homeland––great expectations were placed on our shoulders. A priest came from the American diocese we would be working at – he completed various forms, he spoke too quickly, we did not understand him, perhaps we were just nervous. This was better than a coyote anyway and it did not cost us any money. The bishop would pay for it all. The United States is a land of opportunity - a place to get a new start, a land of promise; for people, and for international priests. Can you see us?
¿Que hacemos aquí?
Plus ça change, plus ça même chose! Some things never change!
When we came here it was so confusing, they said someone would meet us at the airport. No one ever came. We thought we were coming direct. Why were we landing at Chicago when we are supposed go to Spokane? The officials from Homeland Security wanted to know why we were here. We had heard all about “La Migra”! We told them we are priests – they said we might be terrorists. The travel seemed interminable and we were hungry – the first day we had no food at all – no money – so many hours waiting. There were people with signs at the airport; none have our name, who is here for us? It seems we are the last to be cleared by immigration; finally someone asks if we are the priest they are waiting for. God bless them, they cannot pronounce our name. There was nobody home at the rectory. It is so big in comparison to our homes. The waiting room was huge! The lady who answered the door made us stand there – “Father is out, please wait.” Her accent was different too. We waited. We asked about our fellow priests but they do not even know their name. Finally, they show us to our room and we are left alone. The first night in a new country, will the morning be any better? In the morning we go down to the kitchen and a friendly lady is there; she smiles but she speaks a language we don’t yet know. We want tea, hot tea, and all we get is coffee. She gestures if we want food. We smile, we nod but when we see the food we do not recognize it at all she just keeps saying “frijoles”. It looks awful, but actually it doesn’t taste bad at all. We wait to talk to the pastor – hoping that someone will explain things to us – people are arriving at the rectory, they all look at us and smile but no one talks to us. Everything is so confusing––we wait. The pastor finally came and he shakes our hand and tells us that there is much work, but he has appointments and will get to us later that day; we wait. He goes and tells one of the ladies to look after us. In the beginning we kept asking, “Who is in charge here?” All these women are telling us what to do. Everyone speaks so fast; we wait. At last someone tells us that we will be going to see the bishop. At the chancery they made us sign more papers and tell us we need to have our picture taken and be fingerprinted. We tell them we already did this. No, this is to protect the children. “Protect the children from what?” we ask, the person just smiles and leaves.
We have not seen the American priest who came to the seminary to talk to us. They tell us he is no longer in the chancery, someone else is in charge––we wait. The chancellor tells us we need to go to school to learn English. We thought we did speak English! So many papers, we wait, and the bishop only came to say hello and shake our hand – tells me he is happy to see us here but the Vicar General will take care of the rest, we wait. The next time we see the bishop is at confirmation at the parish. The Vicar General told us that we were to help with the people from our country but we thought we were here for all God’s people. We say “yes” but nothing is very clear, we wait. We are heading back to the parish to begin ministry.
So many keys––everything has to be locked up––very different from home! Later that day we at last found some people who speak our language; they welcomed us and are happy to see us. Yes, you can come to dinner at our house they say. Now we feel welcome, but can you see us?
That is not exactly my story, but an amalgam of many stories I have heard. The years that I have been here have passed quickly. It was not always so easy. In the beginning people thought I was a missionary but then they realized I was going to be staying here. Some people stopped coming to mass because they said they did not like my accent. They say I do not speak English properly. Huh!? The Vicar for Clergy said that I need to go to school to reduce my accent, but he was from the South, and I hardly understood his accent. The pastor told me that people don’t understand me. He said I needed to practice with more American “English speaking” people. It took me a while to get used to things. I did not get much direction, everyone thought I knew what I was doing, but I was confused. I knew how to be a priest, but not in America.
In the beginning when I did go to the priest gatherings I searched for priests from my country and there were a few. Other priests stared but did not come to talk to us. A few did smile but didn’t talk. The bishop came by and said “hello” and asked how I was doing. I told him it was hard and different. He encouraged me to keep working at it.
¿Que pasa? The years have passed so quickly and it has been difficult; I wonder what I’ve done? I have had to learn to adjust to recognize that things are different from what I thought it would be like here. No one explained the differences with women, money and all the rules and policies for different things we do, even in the church. No one ever really talked to me, people just kept telling me what to do. Finally, an older priest whom I met on a diocesan day of prayer talked to me. Turns out that he was from “back East” and feels just as much a foreigner as I do. That was the first time a brother priest spent time with me. It felt good. The time here was always about work, people, bettering my English, and learning Spanish. I was transferred to a new parish. The pastor there explained more things to me. I have had to learn about “policies” and they way things are done here. There were so many meetings, and so many people who are involved in what happens. I didn’t like it but at least I understand what I am doing now and I have people who are helping me. The people who are my friends are those who have taken time to talk to me and who are in relationship to me. They understand who I am, but can you see us?
In all the years that I have been here I now feel comfortable in this country. I still speak with an accent but people say they can understand me. At the same time there have been changes in the diocese. There is a new bishop, an auxiliary bishop, foreign born, and a new Vicar for Clergy and a new chancellor, a deacon, also foreign born. All three meet with all the priests not born in this country, to ask what might be different. Suggestions have been made and new programs have begun. There is change because they are hoping to bring more priests from other countries; the diocese has grown and there are many cultures here. We now have priests from over 25 countries in the diocese. At the last meeting for priests they offered simultaneous translation. That was new. All documents are automatically published in Spanish and English. I finally understood what was being said. More priests know my name and come and say hello to me. I know more priests too. There is now a cultural orientation program for priests coming to this country and a program for the priests who will be the pastors of these priests.
In 1990 the list of parishes came out which will need a pastor. My first pastor encouraged me to apply to be a pastor. I did that; I have been a full pastor for 15 years. I know that I have learned much and there is still much to learn. There is too much paperwork in the diocese. Even the priests born in this country complain about that. Things are still not perfect but they have gotten better. So many of the new priests don’t even think I am a foreigner at all!
There is much discussion about immigration in this country today as people look for a better way of life. As the debate about immigration heated up in the ‘90’s I became a citizen of this great country. This in itself was sufficient encouragement for over 1,000 of my parishioners to do the same. A part of me recognizes that America is my home today. At the same time my family and my fellow countrymen see it as a betrayal. It is not that I am giving one nationality up for another. I want to contribute to better this country, to express my beliefs and make a difference. Am I a foreigner? Yes, but I don’t feel like one. I want to belong and belong here where I work. Can you see us?
International priests make up 28% of the presbyterate in this country. We have always been here. Sometimes we are noticed and other times we are taken for granted. This year NFPC is honoring us, International Priests who serve here. We appreciate this recognition. But for International Priests to feel part of the local church you must acknowledge us everyday, not just at gatherings such as this. Be willing to invite us to discuss the needs and concerns of our diocese, to go to dinner, to “hang out”. Engage us in conversation about the concerns not only of our cultural group but also about the universal church. Be willing to invite us to serve on your committees and invite us to leadership. Look around the room this evening at how many of the international community sit on Presbyteral Councils. Our council is over 40% foreign born. Invite us to serve along side you as coworkers. We have made a significant contribution to priesthood in this country but we believe we want to be acknowledged and celebrated for making a daily contribution to the church in America. The Touchstone Award inscription says that we have provided “a norm, a standard” to which others may strive to achieve or attain. The contribution of international priests to presbyterates is not merely a token gesture, but an authentic desire to strengthen priesthood within this country. Together, International Priests and American Priests: “E pluribus unum.”
Rev. Stephen Porter was born in 1949 in Assam, India. He was educated in high schools in South Africa and England. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1981 for the Diocese of East Anglia, England. Father Porter earned an S.T. L. from The Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome in 1983. In 1989 he transferred to the Diocese of San Bernardino and is presently pastor of St. Catherine of Siena Parish in Rialto, Calif. He was appointed to the Presbyteral Council in 1992. He served as secretary to the council from 1998 – 2002, council chair from 2002 –2005, and currently serves as council secretary.
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