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Of 'Father Bud,' Cardinal Mahony and a '96 sanctuary

UNION-TRIBUNE
March 9, 2006

Cardinal Roger Mahony's Ash Wednesday address in Los Angeles kindled a weathered memory:


A month short of 10 years ago, a rookie Border Patrol agent chased a suspected “illegal alien” (the acceptable term in those days) into St. Peter's Catholic Church in Fallbrook. The Latino man was arrested three feet from the altar.
It was a stunning violation of custom that generated headlines in the local press.

To the Rev. Edward “Bud” Kaicher, the overzealous agent had committed a sort of sacrilege against the church. A solemn social contract had been broken.

The belief is not far-fetched. The concept of sanctuary is as old as organized religion. Egyptian, Greek and Roman temples offered rights of asylum to fleeing criminals. Christian churches carried on the tradition.

The human psyche, it seems, requires sacred places, spaces of immunity where the state is not normally allowed to intrude.

In the United States, it's been the tradition to regard the church or temple as a sanctuary for all but violent felons, a criminal class that does not usually include undocumented workers.

In the blow-back over the Fallbrook assault, the Border Patrol's regional chief apologized and promised better training for his agents.

The time-honored separation between the church's mission to embrace the poor, no matter what their legal status, and the state's mission to round up criminals was reaffirmed.





Back in the spring of 1996, I drove up to Fallbrook to meet “Father Bud,” as his parishioners call him. The idealistic young priest told me how natural it was that Latino men congregated around his church every day.

“Churches in Mexico and Guatemala are the center of the town,” he told me. “The church is the center to the men's identities. So when they come to a foreign country, this is one place where they feel at home.”

Father Bud was acutely aware that some of these foreign workers had broken the nation's immigration laws. But examining papers wasn't in his job description.

“We don't check people's legal status when they come up for communion, nor should we when we offer soup or pass out clothing,” he said. “Our approach is that every single person is a son or daughter of God and we are going to treat them as such.”

In addition to spiritual consolation, the church offered access to bathrooms, food and basic medical and dental care. Some services were conducted in Spanish.

To my ear, you could hear Matthew's voice in Father Bud's: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me.”



Last week, Cardinal Mahony defiantly opposed a tough immigration bill now working its way through Congress. The legislation would, if taken to its logical extreme, criminalize anyone, including a priest, who offers material assistance to an illegal immigrant.

In Mahony's view, the proposed law would stab in the heart the church's universal offer of sanctuary to immigrants. Under this law, the police might as well raid churches during Mass and round up suspected illegals within sight of the altar.

Yesterday, I called Father Bud, whom I hadn't talked to in a decade.

Not too much has changed in his field of vision, he said. The carefully tended rose garden in front of the blue-domed church is still blooming. Latinos wanting work still flock to the church for material comfort and spiritual consolation.

Granted, public attitudes have grown harsher, he said. Since 9/11, tolerance has been strained. Many in Fallbrook equate the immigration of poor workers with a threat to national security, he said.

“Our parish is generous,” Father Bud said, but many of his parishioners “struggle between the gospel values and the laws of our country. I would be dishonest if I didn't say that.”

Nevertheless, the arms of his church remain wide open. Some services are still held in Spanish. The soup kitchen is serving the hungry. The mobile clinic is helping those in need.

“I agree with Cardinal Mahony's position 100 percent,” Father Bud told me. “He articulated the position of all thoughtful Catholics – and other Christians and non-Christians as well.”

Of course, no noble sentiment goes unpunished in this bipolar political climate.

Mahony's unflinching declaration of love for all immigrants, legal and illegal, has been attacked as a cynical diversion from the church's notorious sexual scandals. It's also been disparaged as self-interested because many of the nation's roughly 12 million illegal immigrants are Catholics.

In my view, Father Bud, who once watched in horror as an armed agent burst into his chapel, transcends vicious partisan politics. He has a profoundly personal view of the nation's failed immigration policy.

Every day, he sees the harrowing sacrifices workers endure to come to this alien land and earn money to send home. As does Mahony, Father Bud mourns the terrible toll on families divided for years by increasingly less porous borders.

“How do we address the human dimension of immigration?” Father Bud wondered aloud.

Well, it's a deity's job, but someone has to do it.

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Logan Jenkins can be reached at (760) 737-7555 or by e-mail at logan.jenkins@uniontrib.com.