The Life of a Missionary Priest in Mexico



Father Ted is the son of the Rio Grande Valley; from Alamo, Texas, just a few miles north of the "Great River," the Rio Grande. Born three years into the great depression, he was the fifth child of eleven and first born son. During the depression, his parents lost everything, including the family farm and home. His early years were a mixture of attending school and working on a farm. His family rarely if ever missed a day of kneeling down and saying the rosary together. During Ted's early years, God protected him and his siblings from rattlesnakes, rats, car accidents and even a gila monster.


Ted went to St. Anthony's Apostolic School in San Antonio, a minor seminary for teenage boys considering the priesthood. While he had a tough time with Latin, he made All-City in football. As Ted prepared for ordination, his brother, Mike, took his first vows and prepared to enter the scholasticate for seven years. Father Ted was ordained in 1959 and was assigned to Holy Family Parish in Corpus Christi. Three years later, he volunteered for the missions to Mexico and was assigned to the mission of Tehuantepec in the state of Oaxaca, Mexico. Tehuantepec is an isthmus, 120 miles wide, in the southernmost part of Mexico. The area was a remote, isolated and mountainous region inhabited by a variety of indigenous tribes, traversed mostly on horseback or on foot.


When Father Ted arrived in Tehuantepec, the Second Vatican Council had already brought changes to other parts of the world, but they were just starting in this part of Mexico. Spanish had replaced Latin, and this seemed difficult for many to accept. Many times, it was easier for the people to learn than it was for the priests. The church the Oblates received in 1958 had been abandoned since the Mexican Revolution in 1910. Some priests had been driven off, but God in His divine mercy had kept the faith alive among so many of the people. Except for the Pan-American Highway, this very large diocese had very few roads. Most of the travel was either on foot or horseback or by mule or donkey. The climate was extremely hot in the lowlands and very cool in the mountains. Typically, a trip from the lowlands into the high mountains would take about two days on horseback. Many villages and small pueblos were along the way in the lowlands; some were villages of 100 people or so, while others had 1,000 to 2,000 people. All were farmers, but those living close to the Pacific were fisherman as well.


Priests in the 1950s and 1960s couldn't visit the pueblos often. When they did visit, everything was done in one to three days - Masses, baptisms, sick calls and some Communions - with hardly any instructions. They would return again perhaps in six months, or maybe in a year. In 1972, Father Ted built a small clinic with six rooms and a bath. Besides caring for sick from all the pueblos, the priests delivered hundreds and hundreds of babies, many of whom are now in their forties. They helped string electrical wires and improve the roads. Around 1985, the government built a small, narrow paved road.


There were many duties to occupy a missionary's days - Mass, confessions, baptisms, marriages and visits to the sick. Meetings and time are important to catechists, and difficulties are always present. In days past, all this could take two days. The sick needed medication, and there were babies to be delivered, all without electric lights. Candles or lanterns were the only light. The dirt floor is covered at times with paper. The mothers in labor are very patient; they suffer, but do not show much pain. Life has been very difficult for them. Ladies prepared flowers for church and for Mass each day. Though strapped themselves, neighbors planted for the poorest and sickest. These acts of charity prompted Father Ted to reflect on his own life. The Lord speaks in many ways. These were the days of calm and peace.


But that was about to change. Trouble was brewing, though it didn't happen all at once. It was gradual. In the early 1980s, drug cartels began moving their operations from northern Mexico to the remote mountain valleys in the state of Oaxaca. There was quite a temptation for the people to cooperate with the drug lords since money and food were scarce. The Indians had little idea of the harm being done in other places by the drug trafficking. Even "Mexico" was a distant place for them. They were the ones who took all the risks in growing poppies and marijuana. Visitors from outside our pueblos began coming to visit, mostly at night. Daily flights of small planes came over the area. At night, the lights would go out. Trucks that had not been in the area before were now coming. Machine guns were being introduced in the area, packed in boxes and moved by dollies. Father Ted asked some men what the guns were for, but they didn't answer. It was clear they were up to no good. Problems began. There were murders. At first, many people didn't know why the poppies were being grown, but it soon became evident what was happening and why the planes were in the area. This was the new drug smuggling route. Marijuana can be grown anywhere, but poppies need a cool climate. The mountain climate in Tehuantepec is perfect for growing poppies for heroin.


In February 1982, while on a daytrip in the truck, Father Ted encountered groups of people who told of being shot at and threatened. His first thought was, Don't get involved with this dangerous situation. He knew that some families had been burned alive in their houses. Father Ted asked his companion on the trip, Father Joe, to hear his confession, and he prayed: "Have mercy on me, O Lord, and forgive me all my sins. Forgive me all the times I have been inconsiderate to others. Forgive me for my sins in my past life". Father Ted commended himself to God and our Blessed Lady, Mary. The priests continued on their trip toward trouble. Fear enveloped them. They knew people were hiding in houses and would not come out because of fear. Father Ted and Father Joe drove to the house where they had heard that shots had previously been fired. As Father Ted walked to the door, a man stepped halfway outside, calling, Padre, Padre - pronto, pronto ("Father, Father - Hurry! Hurry!"). Shots rang out, hitting the man as we ducked inside. Inside lay two teenage boys who had been shot and were bleeding, one in the face and the other in the chest. The mother and five young children were all screaming for help. Father Ted was terrified and didn't know what to do. The mother and children were hanging on to him and screaming, "They are going to kill us! They are going to burn us!" It was hard to believe this was really happening. Father Ted knew that if he went outside, he would likely be shot. But, there was no choice. He got away from those holding on to him and went out the door. On trembling knees that could hardly stand, Father Ted went to the driver's side, from which the shots had been fired, keeping his hands in the air. He couldn't see the shooters, who were behind nearby rocks. Father Ted called out to them, "In the name of God and the Blessed Virgin, I am the priest and I wish you no harm. There are people inside who are bleeding. In God's name, don't shoot. In God's name, don't shoot." The pickup had to be turned around. Climbing inside the vehicle, Father Ted tried to start the engine, but it was dead. He thought... "This could not be happening". With God's grace the priests were able to load the injured man and boys into the back of the truck. As Father Joe drove to town, Father Ted tried to help the injured but the man died before we could get there.


Deaths and drugs continued. Families were warned not to interfere with the planting of marijuana and the poppies for heroin in their fields. At night and alone, people would come to share with Father Ted what was happening. The newly elected man in charge of looking after one of the poppie fields would come to see him at night. The man revealed to Father Ted that he had told some drug lords they could not plant any drugs on the lands belonging to the pueblo and planned to report them to authorities. Shortly after this, several men took this man away, where he was tortured and murdered. His wife, seven months pregnant, went to tell Father Ted what had happened. Out of fear, not many people went to get the dead man's body. Two months later, Father Ted delivered her baby, her thirteenth. This mother had all these children to care for and now her husband had been murdered.


People were afraid to travel and to go out after dark. The hauling of truckloads of drugs was a daily event. Every day, planes were flying in with guns and leaving with drugs. Frequent murders of innocent people continued. In one case, a man with a wife and five children were being sought by the drug cartel. One afternoon, the children were left alone at home when six vicious killers, all armed with machine guns, went to the house looking for the man. Not finding him, they shot the children with their machine guns. Four were riddled with bullets. Only the baby, sleeping in a chicken basket in the corner, escaped their notice and survived.


Father Ted began keeping a list of those who were murdered. Families told him of the names and dates of the murders - and also, many times, the names of those responsible. He began keeping a list of all this information with places, names and dates. When the list grew to 150 incidents, Father Ted gave it to the proper authorities in Mexico City. He was scared, but he also remembered who had sent him there. He knew there was danger ahead; the only question was where and when it would strike. It didn't take long to find out.


In March 1987, while on a routine day trip alone on the Pan-American Highway, Father Ted heard what sounded like the truck exploding. Then, as pieces of upholstery fell from above his head, he realized that someone had fired at him from the other side of the road. The smell the gunpowder was overpowering. When he later stopped to examine the truck, Father Ted found twelve bullet holes in the roof, just above his head. He continued driving on to Oaxaca where he phoned his provincial who told him to catch a flight to Mexico City. That night, he didn't sleep. He kept hearing the shots over and over again in his mind. Arriving in Mexico City, he went to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe and went to confession. Then he sat down and pondered the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Father Ted had no idea how long he spent looking at it. He cried, and said to her, "Mary, my Mother, please tell me what to do. I must know." Inside, he heard, "Don't be afraid. Go back to the pueblos. I am your Mother."


Father Ted spent six more years in Quiechapa serving the people. Murders were still frequent, and heroin was still being grown. So many people had been killed that the priests had asked the killers' families to turn in their weapons. Father Ted had collected about twelve automatic rifles and pistols. The arms had one thing in common: all had been used to murder others. He wondered "What were we to do with all these weapons?" The congregation built a large fire in the yard of the church and gathered around. "As a protest against these murders, I have invited you to destroy the guns with the sledge hammers and then to burn the pieces in the fire," Father Ted told the congregation. "They will kill no one again."


The generosity and courage of these simple people was amazing. One day, Father Ted heard the church bells ringing. It must have been around 3 p.m. - a strange time to be ringing the bells, but it was signaling an emergency. A murderer was angry at Father Ted for having spoken out against the killings and the violence. On the high side of the pueblo, many women had gathered to stop the killer as he walked toward the church with his rifle. The women stopped him and sent word to Father Ted not to leave his home until the killer was gone. Perhaps the man had been drinking or was on drugs. In any event, he left and did no harm to anyone. Those brave ladies remained until the killer left.


Father Ted finally had to leave Mexico in 2007 when his health deteriorated and was forced to retire. He is recovering from a stroke and now lives at the Oblate Madonna Residence in San Antonio, Texas. He has thankful to God for the years he was able to serve the poor and abandoned and for each servant he met on his journey through life.