He was born in Okarche, Oklahoma in 1935.
His parents, Franz and Gertrude Rother, were farmers. They gave their son an ordinary, unremarkable name: Stanley.
But Stanley Rother’s life would be anything but ordinary or unremarkable. On this particular weekend, I want to share his story — a story of a good shepherd of our own time.
After Stanley graduated high school, he heard the call to become a priest. He went to seminary in Texas. Life on the farm hadn’t prepared him for life in the seminary, and he had a difficult time. Studying theology and learning Latin were not quite the same as plowing fields or mending fences. He failed several courses. His superiors urged him to quit. They didn’t think he was cut out for the priesthood. But he persisted — and eventually he was ordained.
A few years later, Father Stanley heard another call. He went to Guatemala to serve as a missionary.
There, his upbringing on a farm served him well.
Father Stanley said Mass—and built a school.
He heard confessions—and repaired trucks.
He anointed the sick and dying—and worked the fields.
The people loved him. Stanley, a man who couldn’t learn Latin, mastered their local language, Mayan. Since there’s no Mayan equivalent for “Stanley,” they called him by his baptismal name, Francis. To them, he was Padre Francesco — or in the local tribal language, Padre A’plas.
In the 1970s, Guatemala became embroiled in a brutal and bloody civil war. Priests became targets. At the urging of his superiors in U.S., Father Stanley left the country, and went back to Oklahoma. But in 1981, he wanted to return to the people he loved. And so he did. He stayed for several months, despite the risks and threats. He would not abandon the people who had come to depend on him.
He understood his calling in a profound way.
As he later wrote to his family, echoing the Gospel we just heard: “A shepherd doesn’t run at the first sign of danger.”
But on July 28, 1981, danger came for him. Three men broke into his rectory, planning to kidnap him. Father Stanley fought back, but after a few moments of struggle, he was shot twice in the head.
Father Stanley Rother was 46 years old. He was one of 10 priests murdered that year in Guatemala.
A few days later, his body was returned to Oklahoma for burial.
At the request of his parishioners, his heart was buried in Guatemala, at his parish church, close to the people he loved.
In 2016, 35 years after Father Stanley Rother’s murder, Pope Francis declared him officially a martyr of the faith — the first martyr born in the United States and the first U.S. priest to be declared a martyr.
Shortly after that, investigators in Guatemala were stunned to find that Stanley Rother’s heart was incorrupt. It looked the same as the day he died.
In 2017, he was beatified.
As we heard in John’s Gospel: “A good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”
This weekend, the 4th Sunday of Easter, is commonly called “Good Shepherd Sunday.” Every year this week, we hear one of the readings about Jesus the Good Shepherd. Because of that, the church has also marked this Sunday as the World Day of Prayer for Vocations — particularly vocations to the priesthood. We need more holy shepherds — men like Stanley Rother.
I would wager that each of us is here, in some way, because of a priest. Someone who baptized us, confirmed us, gave us First Communion.
Maybe a priest anointed you before surgery or held the hand of your mother as she lay dying. Maybe he heard your confession and offered you mercy at a moment when you didn’t think mercy was possible.
Maybe he brought you Christ in the incomparable gift of the Eucharist.
As we reflect this weekend on Jesus the Good Shepherd who gave his life for us, give thanks to Almighty God for all the shepherds who have given so much of their lives for us.
Remember all those priests who have given up so much so that they can give us Jesus. Men like the Vocationist Fathers who serve this community, Father Mathew and Father Ferdinand.
Remember the priests whose names we will never know, who witness to God’s love in our world.
Remember the selflessness of Father Stanley Rother, Padre A’plas.
And pray for vocations.
Not long ago, the bishop of Oklahoma City spoke of one of the great lessons of Stanley Rother’s life: Holy men and women, he said, can come from ordinary places.
From Nazareth. Or Okarche. Or Apopka.
Every day, the most important prayer we can offer for vocations is with our lives — for each of us to live out our own vocation, the one we received at baptism, to be children of God and brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ.
We need to be examples to inspire others and, just maybe, light a spark.
So, to quote a familiar phrase: Be all that you can be.
Be witnesses to the Resurrection we celebrated just three weeks ago.
Be heralds of hope in a world too often clouded by despair.
We can’t all be shepherds. But we can be farmers — planting seeds of faith.
We can be laborers in the vineyard — harvesting what those seeds produce and sharing them with the world: fruits of mercy and justice, of patience, generosity, and love.
And we can be warriors, prayer warriors — praying daily for vocations to the priesthood, diaconate and religious life.
Be all that and be assured: we are not alone. As we pray for shepherds to walk with us on our journey, remember that Christ the Good Shepherd is with us. May we always have faith in that.
And in our need, may his blessed missionary intercede on our behalf.
Blessed Stanley Rother, pray for us.
Amen.
