A Priest from the Philippines who can Hold Mass in Four Languages
Shelby Herbert profiles Father Arlon Vergara who had many stops before arriving in Reno.
A Global Journey to Reno
Religious literature and icons line the shelves in Father Arlon Vergara’s office at St. Thérèse of the Little Flower; but also an assortment of well-kept plants and a San Francisco Giants hat.
The Parochial Vicar of Reno backs the Golden State Warriors and is a “Magic” Johnson fan. In his spare time, he enjoys walking around Virginia Lake. Once in a while, he gathers with seven other priests in the vicinity who are also from the Philippines to cook traditional foods. He misses the guava fruit of his home, as well as his siblings, who he hasn’t seen since the start of the pandemic.
“Yeah, it’s hard,” he said during a recent interview. “I usually go home annually — we actually get a month of vacation. But I hope — and pray — I can be back in the Philippines sometime this year.”
These are but a few peripheral details of his life. He’s ministered in three countries and three American states, has published two books, and speaks a multitude of languages. Hailing from the southern part of Manila, Father Arlon is approaching his fifth year at the Diocese of Reno, which follows his eleven years of missionary apostolate and pastoral service in South Korea. He holds mass in Latin, English, Spanish, and Korean.
Bringing Different Communities Together
“I don’t think it’s people’s intent to self-segregate [in different weekly services],” he says. “Maybe that’s how it was in the old days… Back in New York City, around the turn of the century, there was that kind of division among the immigrant communities. You’d see separate Catholic churches for Italian, Irish, and German worshippers — but I don’t think that’s the way it is now. I just think it brings people great comfort to hear mass in their mother tongue.”
Father Arlon experienced his own bout of culture shock before he arrived at his first American parish in Virginia many years ago:
“I’m an American citizen now, and I’m happy that I’m serving this country. I think the people are very good here… Although,” he laughs, “before I came over, I thought to myself: ‘Oh, the Americans! They are very liberal. They have little fear or respect or acceptance for a Supreme Being — or, you know, God.’ But since I started working as a priest here — after being assigned to three states — I’ve seen so many deeply good and spiritual people. And this has definitely changed my perspective.”
Father Arlon belongs to the Order of Saint Augustine (OSA), and upon my admission that not only am I not a Catholic, but I had never met a priest, and was — in fact — raised a Southern Baptist, remarks brightly (and diplomatically) that Martin Luther was another friar of the Augustinian order. He lists Mormons and Baptists among his dearest friends, and commends the Church of the Latter-Day Saints for its strong family values, as well as its commitment to good works and community service.
Shepherding His Parish Through The Pandemic
In addition to student reporters and his many counsel-seeking parishioners, he also meets with state legislators.
When I first spoke to him in late January, he was about to meet with Nevada Senator Catherine Cortez Masto — who is the first woman elected to represent Nevada in the Senate, as well as the first Latina elected to serve in the upper chamber — to discuss the unique challenges faced by immigrant communities in Nevada at this stage of the pandemic.
An anchor point of the local immigrant community, St. Thérèse of the Little Flower has hosted several medical support programs for undocumented people, including a discreet vaccine clinic with bilingual staff from Immunize Nevada and the University of Nevada School of Medicine who help promote equitable access to vaccines.
Father Arlon also regularly performs a ministry for the sick, for which different stages of the pandemic have brought about a number of difficult and often heartbreaking challenges.
“During the height of COVID, we received a lot of calls about people going to the hospital, but we couldn’t risk exposing people [to the virus],” he said. “So what we did is — the nurses and the pastoral department at Renown Hospital — they would connect us to the patients online. I would stay here, but the patients could see me, and then we would pray together. That was during the height of the pandemic, but now we can be [by their side] in our PPE and by observing the proper [medical] protocols.”
“I pray,” he says, stopping briefly before continuing. “I pray that this pandemic might have some kind of positive effect in the sense that people, after going through all this, come to understand that life is fragile. That life is so short. That God — who is so loving and merciful — could call us up at any time.”
