Political Padre: Raymundo Chávez Vázquez and Illegal Immigration

The children of this generation eventually found a place in the cultural fabric of the Brazos Valley. Some opened up Tex-Mex restaurants. Others worked as unskilled laborers at Texas A&M. Church member Eddie Rodriguez opened up a body shop on one of the town's main drags. He was baptized at Santa Teresa in the 1940s and help knock down an old building to make way for the new church just blocks from his business. Victoria Martinez grew up across the street from the church in a family of 17 brothers and sisters. She counts her family as "among the first Hispanic settlers" in the region. She now lives a comfortable life operating a bed-and-breakfast in College Station.

When a new sanctuary was dedicated in 1979, the church received a congratulatory letter in Spanish and English from Phil Gramm, who was then a newly elected Democratic congressman and former economics professor at A&M.

None of this success came easily. Armando Alonzo, a historian at Texas A&M who studies Mexican immigration to Texas, says that the first immigrants to the Brazos Valley in the 1920s worked as sharecroppers and were "treated like peons." Hispanic children went to segregated schools where they were punished for speaking Spanish. Hispanic workers at Texas A&M — custodians, food service and construction workers — needed a special "certification of identification" to be on campus. The certificate stated that "no householder, department, contractor or individual will employ any Negro or Mexican in any capacity whatsoever on the college campus unless they have this certificate."

As the second generation of Mexican immigrants improved its status, it also improved the church, erecting new buildings and buying up land in the old barrio. As these families became more Americanized, English became the predominant language of the church elders. Many of them now proudly boast of their deep roots in Brazos County.

García Alonzo — herself a Mexican-American from the Rio Grande Valley — has struggled with many of her brethren over the changes at Santa Teresa. "The longtime Hispanics felt marginalized by Father Raymundo at first," she says. "The church has been around since the 1940s and these people feel as American as apple pie. Some have been around for four generations and feel like they own the church."

Many of the old-timers have left Santa Teresa for other parishes. Bryan's Catholic churches were originally organized along national or ethnic lines. Santa Teresa is the town's only traditionally Hispanic church, but many of the Tejanos now attend the traditionally Italian church, St. Anthony's, or the Polish and Czech church, St. Joseph's. Gloria Quintero estimates that some 300 people have left the church because of Father Raymundo.

Some of the people who have left the church declined to comment on the record about why they left. Many families are split, with some members continuing to stick it out. Off the record, they cite a perceived hostility on the part of Father Raymundo toward Hispanics who've lost their Spanish. Others, like Quintero, have stayed but made it clear that they want to see changes.

One of the main objections to Father Raymundo stems from his activism on immigration. García Alonzo helped start a branch of the Catholic Church's Justice for Immigrants Campaign at Santa Teresa shortly after the priest arrived. The campaign works for comprehensive immigration reform, emphasizing the legalization of undocumented workers already here. Father Raymundo admits it's not a popular position and the campaign has caused him some problems. "People think it's politics," he says. "It's not politics. It's social justice — the application of the word of God to the problems of the people."

But people like Quintero don't understand the priest's activism. "If they don't like the way things are running here, maybe they should go back to Mexico," she says. "Mexico wouldn't change its laws for us."

Like many other parishioners, García Alonzo wasn't too involved in the church before Father Raymundo arrived. She says that she and her husband went to the church on and off through the years, but it wasn't their home parish.

Like other parishioners, she was disgusted by the behavior of the previous priest, Victor Robles. His demeanor towards immigrants was condescending. "He would raise his voice at the immigrants like they were little children," she says.

By all accounts, Robles ran the church as if it were his own personal fiefdom. The oldest — and perhaps most powerful — church group at Santa Teresa is a group of Hispanic ladies known as the Guadalupanas. The Guadalupanas do charity work and sell religious artifacts. They also wield power behind the scenes. There are three women named Mary in the Guadalupanas, and each one of them has a story to tell about Father Robles. Each one claims he mistreated them and stole money from the church when he thought they weren't looking.