The Shepherd Who Didn’t Run

You may have picked up on the fact that I’m a little bit obsessed with Saints (and those on their way to being declared Saints). There’s something about getting to know one of God’s best friends that just makes me love him that much more. I have this image of life as an obstacle course (think American Ninja Warrior) and Saints as competitors who’ve finished the course and come back to coach you through. Here I need the witness of someone with low stamina, like me, there the advice of someone with a short temper. I keep a pantheon¹ of Saints in my back pocket to encourage me by means of their own particular weaknesses.

So when my beautiful friend Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda asked if I’d review her latest book, The Shepherd Who Didn’t Run, I jumped at the chance. Maria and I have been friends since I met her oldest son in college² and I’ve long admired her work and her deep joy in the Lord. Plus, I can’t get enough of modern martyr stories. And this one did not disappoint. Impeccably researched and written with a clarity that allows Father Stanley to shine through, this first published biography of Father Stanley Rother is the perfect introduction to a simple man called to greatness.

Fr. Stanley Rother was a down-home Oklahoma farm boy who failed out of seminary because he was better at manual labor than book learning. But he persevered, taking John Vianney as a model, and was ordained and sent to rural Oklahoma to serve. It wasn’t long before he answered the call to missionary work, heading to Guatemala where he would overcome his difficulty with languages, mastering Spanish and Tz’utujil, and earn the love of his people by working side by side with them.

But Latin America was a tumultuous place in the the 1980s and Fr. Stanley knew that the powers that be didn’t appreciate his solidarity with the people. It became clear that his life was on the line if he stayed where he was, but Fr. Stanley loved his people too much to abandon them. “At the first signs of danger, the shepherd can’t run,” he said time and again, echoing Jesus’ words in John 10.

Fr. Stanley did leave Guatemala for a few months when things were at their worst. Back in Oklahoma, everyone urged him not to go back to Guatemala. The book details his Gethsemane experience, interviewing friends and family members and excerpting from Fr. Stanley’s letters. But while he was clearly suffering, he was not conflicted. He had promised he would return and return he did, arriving back at his parish just in time for Easter. Three months later, he was found dead in his rectory. He had been tortured but had taken it in silence–he knew that crying out would endanger those around him.

This past summer, the Vatican declared Fr. Stanley a martyr, a step that speeds his canonization process considerably. For the people of Santiago Atitlán, however, no canonization is necessary. Despite his temper and his other human weaknesses, Fr. Stanley had been a powerful witness of God’s love among them. He had lived as a Saint and died as a Saint. And while they will rejoice when he is canonized, as I have no doubt he will be, nobody will be surprised at the Oklahoma farm boy turned Guatemalan martyr raised to the altars.

Fr. Stanley is a compelling figure, stern but animated by love of God and his people, but I must say that much about him didn’t resonate with me. After all, I’m basically the opposite of this taciturn country priest who was more comfortable with a spade than a textbook. So while I was quite impressed with how thorough the book was–imagine hearing from a Saint’s first grade teacher–Fr. Stanley was a little too ordinary for my liking. At first.

Until I realized that his ordinariness was exactly the point. The witness of his willing acceptance of torture and death is that much more beautiful because he’s a regular guy. He wasn’t a mystic, one foot already on the other side of the veil, or an activist, willing to sacrifice for the cause. He was a lover. And he knew that his people needed him. They needed to know that they mattered, to him and to the One he served. He made no secret of the fact that he didn’t want to die. But he wanted to live for his people more than he wanted to live, as he explained to his bishop: “My life is for my people. I am not scared.”

It’s this quiet determination that struck me. He went deliberately to his death because he loved those he would die for. Can I live with the same intentionality? Can I wash dishes and listen to sob stories and reply to emails with the same deliberate love? Can I be powerfully present in the ordinary? That’s what made Fr. Stanley able to live with extraordinary grace in the end: a determination to do the work of the day well.

If you’re from Oklahoma or you’re a farmer or you’ve struggled in school, Fr. Stanley’s your guy. If you wonder how to love the poor or face difficult mundane crosses, I think his witness will speak to you. If you live an ordinary life and long to be extraordinary, you’ll find that in Fr. Stanley. Grab a copy of this book, not just to support my friend Maria (who is amazing, so maybe for that reason, too) but because Fr. Stanley will remind you of the holiness of your everyday. He’ll show you how your life can transform the world around you. And he’ll probably be the first American-born man canonized, so it couldn’t hurt to join his fan club ahead of the rush.

If you want to keep up with Maria, you can follow her at her blog. I couldn’t find a picture of us together (though I have pictures of me with every one of her children and most of her grandchildren), so I’ll give you the official headshot instead. There, don’t you want to be her friend? Or at least buy her book? I thought so.

1. If you’ll excuse the implied heresy. [↩]
2. In case you listen to the podcast, he’s the one who saved the Eucharist from Satanists and then passed all the credit on to other people. [↩]

Author: Meg

I'm a Catholic, madly in love with the Lord, His Word, His Bride the Church, and especially His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist. I'm committed to the Church not because I was raised this way but because the Lord has drawn my heart and convicted my reason. After 2 degrees in theology and 5 years in the classroom, I quit my 9-5 to follow Christ more literally. Since May of 2012, I've been a hobo for Christ; I live out of my car and travel the country speaking to youth and adults, giving retreats, blogging, and trying to rock the world for Jesus. View all posts by Meg