Blessed Stanley Rother, Week 6

Lent hasn’t let up this year—in the best way. As we head into Holy Week, one name keeps coming up around here: Blessed Stanley Rother.

He’s the most recently beatified American-born priest and martyr, and his story has really caught our attention. Not just because it’s our final saint of the Lenten series, but because there’s something about Blessed Stanley Rother that doesn’t let go of us. Maybe it’s his simplicity. Maybe it’s his quiet courage. Or maybe it’s because he reminds us that sanctity isn’t just found in cathedrals or cloisters—but in cornfields, kitchens, and the kind of daily faithfulness that doesn’t make headlines.

Stanley was a farm boy from Oklahoma. He wasn’t known for being a theological whiz or a great speaker. In fact, he failed out of seminary the first time around. (Latin wasn’t his strong suit.) But he tried again, and this time, he made it. He was ordained in 1963 and set out to be just a regular parish priest. No big dreams. Just faithful service.

And then he ended up in Guatemala.

When he first arrived in Santiago Atitlán, he couldn’t speak Spanish well. He definitely didn’t speak the Mayan dialect, Tz’utujil. And yet, over the years, he didn’t just learn it—he helped translate the entire New Testament into it. The same man who couldn’t pass Latin became the bridge between Scripture and a people who had never heard the Gospel in their own tongue.

Why?

Because he loved them.

As we prepared this reflection, one question kept echoing in our hearts: “When will you take ownership of your call to serve boldly?” It’s not just a question for priests or missionaries—it’s for all of us. Because service isn’t about location or status. It’s about love.

Take a deep breath with us. Let the distractions go. Breathe in God’s peace, and exhale whatever’s weighing you down. Ask Him, “Lord, where do You want us to serve You?” Then be brave enough to listen. Be willing enough to follow.

Stanley Rother didn’t wait for the perfect conditions. He didn’t wait to feel fully qualified. He just showed up. Day after day. He farmed. He visited. He baptized. He built a radio station. He married couples. He prayed with families. He learned the language of the people because he first learned the language of their hearts.

His service wasn’t loud. It wasn’t grand. But it was real.

And it cost him everything.

In the final years of his life, violence crept closer. Guatemala’s civil war was leaving behind a wake of desaparecidos—the disappeared. Stanley wrote home about his fears, the unrest, the targeting of priests. And still, he stayed. His name was on a death list. His bishop told him to come home. He did, for a time.

But then he said something simple. Something holy.

A shepherd cannot run at the first sign of danger.

So he returned.

And on July 28, 1981, just before dawn, intruders broke into the rectory. They struggled with him, tried to take him away. But he wouldn’t let his people wake to find their priest gone. So they killed him right there.

Blood on the floor. Heart in Guatemala.

Literally—his body was sent home to Oklahoma, but at the people’s request, his heart was buried in Santiago Atitlán.

His heart was always theirs anyway.

Today, we think about the small things—the seemingly unimpressive, unnoticed moments of our lives. Could they be the soil where holiness grows? Could smiling at a stranger, listening without interrupting, making dinner for our family, or picking up trash at the park be ways that we, too, serve?

Yes.

Because God doesn’t need grand. He just needs willing.

Blessed Stanley Rother reminds us that when love takes root, courage follows. That when service becomes our posture, martyrdom—literal or daily dying to self—becomes possible.

He reminds us that the most ordinary life, when lived with extraordinary love, becomes sacred ground.

His crest doesn’t carry Latin phrases or grand imagery. But his life—his yes—carries the Gospel. And in him, we see the face of Christ.

Thank You for the life and witness of Blessed Stanley Rother, a shepherd who laid down his life for his flock. In his courage, may we find the strength to say “yes” to Your call, even when it leads us to unfamiliar shores. May his example inspire us to live boldly in service to those in need, bridging cultures and sharing Your Word in every corner of the world. Amen

THANK YOU FOR JOINING US THIS LENT As we close this final reflection of our Lenten journey, we carry with us the saints we’ve studied—their yes, their faithful service, and their hearts made new on the Sacred Shores of Jesus' Sacred Heart.

Holy Week invites us to do the same: to walk with Jesus through the silence, the sorrow, and ultimately, the light.

As we enter into Holy Week and draw closer to Easter, we live in the anticipation of hope. What a joyous day it will be as we celebrate the resurrection and the new life it brings! May our hearts continue to be transformed, steadfast in faith, and ready to share the light of His love with the world.

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