Rev. Camacho ministers with love and soccer

07/09/2006 — Amidst the shrill debate on illegal immigration, the Rev. Jesus Camacho's voice is calm and conciliatory.

Twenty-five years ago this week, Camacho immigrated to Idaho from Mexico. Though obscure to most non-Catholic Anglos, he may be the most influential figure in Hispanic Idaho. His three-hour Saturday radio program, "Chatting with Father Jesœs," airs throughout southern Idaho.

"You don't know how powerful that is," said Sam Byrd, a more recognized Hispanic leader among Anglos. "There are very few ethnic leaders, but if there is a voice, he's that voice."

Camacho uses his clout to talk of love, respect and integration. Consider his role in April's pro-immigration march, which drew 5,000 people to the Statehouse on behalf of reforms including a path to citizenship for 12 million illegals.

Before the event, he urged marchers to carry U.S. flags, not the Mexican banner. When a large group climbed the Capitol steps, he took the microphone and asked them to return to the street and sidewalks, out of respect.

"They came down fast," said Erica Lima, a member of the Hispanic youth group at St. Mary's Church in Boise, where Camacho preaches. "Some people have closed minds, but Father Camacho says you can state your opinion without being aggressive or anything that has to do with violence. People respect him for that."

Camacho occupies the middle ground with President Bush and Idaho GOP Sen. Larry Craig, who support comprehensive reform that includes effective border control, a guest-worker program and earned citizenship.

"I am one of those immigrants who says this is a land of opportunity," Camacho said. "I have been able to grow and mature spiritually, educationally, professionally. I am very thankful for the opportunity."

"We all feel that way," said Dora Salinas of Nampa, who performs with her family trio at Masses and ceremonies with Camacho. "This is the United States. It's our flag. These people are here to find a life that they don't have over there."

Camacho came from "over there" July 7, 1981, to minister to Hispanic Catholics, who account for 71 percent of the church's U.S. growth in the last 40 years. He has served in Blackfoot, Homedale, Jerome and Boise, all the while appearing on radio. Since 1999, he has directed a prison ministry, overseeing 100 volunteers who serve 1,000 inmates statewide. He says Mass at seven prisons and jails and has a goal of making the sacraments — excepting marriage— available at every lockup.

Camacho's success is built on a lovely singing voice, training in communications, a deftness on the soccer pitch, and a warmth that transcends language. When he offered me communion last week, his face brightened with the light and quickness of a cactus flower.

The Radio Priest is special, said Monica Salinas, who sings with her folks as a member of "Trio Salinas," which played at a quinceanera Mass at St. Mary's last week.

"A lot of times priests speak in a monotone that makes me kind of zone out. But when Father Camacho speaks, even if you don't understand it in Spanish, you can still feel his voice. It comes from here," she said, lifting hands to her heart. "It's like when you're hurt and crying and your mother says, 'It's OK, baby.' It feels better."

Camacho uses every tool in his chest to minister. A brightly painted 4-foot statue of Mary stands in his office. "In our culture, we need to touch," said Camacho, who fulfills inmates' requests for rosaries, scapular medals, and holy cards. "It's a way to feel the presence of the beloved."

About 20 years ago, he was asked to sing by Lucio Prado, a mariachi bandleader and restaurateur who also appears on Saturday radio. "He mixed his voice with our voices very well," Prado said. "And at that time, he became a singer." Camacho writes songs; one was performed last week at the quinceanera for Andrea Murguia, who turned 15 on July 4.

"Not only is he a priest, he gives good advice, and he's helped me a lot," Murguia said. "I have him in my cell phone." As the father of a 14-year-old girl, let me assure you that is a high compliment to an adult.

Camacho learned English at a seminary in Oregon and jokes about his "Oregonian accent," thick with his native Jalisco. Since his assignment to Blackfoot in 1981, he's used soccer to reach out. He's played, coached and run clinics. Though 62, he dribbles and heads the ball like the star he was as a young man, and organizes pickup games at Veterans Park on Sunday mornings.

"To be a good soccer player, first you need to be a good dancer," he advises. A mix of priest, grandpa and teacher, Camacho also has taught survival Spanish and performed an exorcism at the former Aryan Nations in North Idaho ("Dispel the darkness and evil plans from this place").

The ugly fight over immigration has left a dark shadow over our nation of immigrants. Camacho commends men like Craig for taking a political risk to do right. Craig calls Camacho "one of the kindest and gentlest people I know. While other immigrants come to America looking for a better life, Father Camacho made a better life for others."

In the Gospel of Matthew, Christians are urged to welcome the stranger. Yes, there's bigotry in our past, but the run of our history has largely followed that guidance. Let us again open our hearts to newcomers who enrich our lives and make us a better people.