
Meet the Men Who Just Became Catholic Priests in Virginia
At a time when the US Catholic Church is grappling with a severe shortage of priests, the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia, recently ordained 12 new priests – its second-largest class ever – in a joyful Mass at its cathedral.
Ahead of the ceremony, The Associated Press spent time with the men, who explained what drove them to choose a life of celibacy, obedience, and devotion. Here are four of their stories.
A rare kind of leader. As a teenager active in youth ministry, the Rev. Ricky Malebranche was often encouraged by adults to consider the priesthood. He assumed it was just what Catholics told religious young men.
At the end of college, he thought seriously about seminary. But it would take another nine years, he said, before God told him, 'I want you to be my priest.' By then, he had built a career as a high school counselor and coach. He owned a home and hoped to one day marry and have children. 'Oh no, you missed your chance, Jesus,' he thought.
After he finally decided to apply to seminary, he felt a profound sense of peace. He later enrolled at Mount St. Mary's, a Catholic institution in western Maryland, where the diocese sends some of its seminarians. The son of Haitian immigrants, Malebranche now joins a small group of Black American priests. Though rich in tradition, Black Catholics make up five percent of the US church and account for less than one percent of US priests.
'I am very cognizant of it every time I do anything in ministry that I represent a larger group than just me,' Malebranche said. 'I have this desire to not let them down,' he said. 'I want to be able to bring pride to a people who don't always see themselves represented.'
A military chaplain. Before he ever considered ordination, the Rev. Mike Sampson, without conscious thought, made the sign of the cross – a decidedly Catholic ritual. 'I looked up and laughed,' he recalled. Though raised Protestant, he took the moment as a prompt from God to explore Catholicism.
The California native practiced law while volunteering at his local parish in Arlington, Virginia. Six years after his conversion, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. 'Very proud' is how his mother, Diane Sampson, described feeling after her son's recent ordination. His call to the priesthood was initially difficult for the Protestant family.
'One of the things that I think even most Catholics are challenged by is the idea of celibacy and not getting married and not having kids and the family name not carrying on,' the Rev. Sampson said.
In three years, he will begin a five-year stint as a military chaplain with the US Navy. Fellow seminarians describe Sampson as a mentor. They say he is well-suited to the discipline of military life despite not serving in the armed forces before seminary when he was commissioned as a lieutenant.
For now, he will serve at a parish close to the office complex where he once worked and where he occasionally went to noon Mass. 'He is coming back,' he said, 'but in a very different way.'
A Peruvian connection. Pope Leo XIV, the first US-born pontiff, spent decades in Peru. In his first public appearance as pope, he addressed his former diocese in Spanish. 'I frankly couldn't believe it,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta. 'He greeted us in our language. It was just beautiful.'
Born in Lima, Peru, Tuesta immigrated to the US at age 10. His family settled in Paterson, New Jersey, a hub for the Peruvian diaspora. He attended Don Bosco, a nearby Catholic prep school. He was drawn to the priesthood from an early age, but as the firstborn son of immigrants, he felt he should support his family instead.
'Financially, we come from a very modest and humble background,' he said. 'And so you want to make it. You want to provide.' It was only after he earned a doctorate in mechanical engineering and was living in northern Virginia that he rediscovered his calling. By then, both of his parents had died. He has since heard from his mother's friends that she thought he might become a priest.
His ordination drew loved ones from all over the world to celebrate. The self-described introvert was hesitant to be the center of attention. 'We're not really there to celebrate me and my priesthood because it really isn't mine,' he said, noting it's shared among his brother priests and community. 'What we're really celebrating is everyone there – everyone who contributed to my discernment, to my vocation, to my faith, to my upbringing.'
An adventurous life. The Rev. Tim Banach is a thrill-seeker who enjoys the outdoors. With other seminarians and priests, he has hiked many mountain ranges and camped in the Badlands. The priestly life strikes him as an adventure too, where no day is the same. From weddings to funerals, priests serve thousands of people on their best and worst days.
'There are just these moments you get to share that can be overwhelming,' he said. 'But we're very privileged as well.'
A native of Corning, New York, Banach first considered the priesthood while an engineering student at the University of Virginia. After graduation, he lived a 'pretty normal life,' he said, working at a consulting job and going on some dates. 'But that question never really went away.'
The diocese eventually sent him to St. Charles Borromeo, a seminary near Philadelphia. He graduated in May. 'When I joined the seminary and met the kind of men that I could be serving alongside for the rest of my life, I was even more encouraged,' he said. 'Because they're exactly the type of guys that I want to be my brothers.'
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18 hours ago
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Meet the Men Who Just Became Catholic Priests in Virginia
At a time when the US Catholic Church is grappling with a severe shortage of priests, the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia, recently ordained 12 new priests – its second-largest class ever – in a joyful Mass at its cathedral. Ahead of the ceremony, The Associated Press spent time with the men, who explained what drove them to choose a life of celibacy, obedience, and devotion. Here are four of their stories. A rare kind of leader. As a teenager active in youth ministry, the Rev. Ricky Malebranche was often encouraged by adults to consider the priesthood. He assumed it was just what Catholics told religious young men. At the end of college, he thought seriously about seminary. But it would take another nine years, he said, before God told him, 'I want you to be my priest.' By then, he had built a career as a high school counselor and coach. He owned a home and hoped to one day marry and have children. 'Oh no, you missed your chance, Jesus,' he thought. After he finally decided to apply to seminary, he felt a profound sense of peace. He later enrolled at Mount St. Mary's, a Catholic institution in western Maryland, where the diocese sends some of its seminarians. The son of Haitian immigrants, Malebranche now joins a small group of Black American priests. Though rich in tradition, Black Catholics make up five percent of the US church and account for less than one percent of US priests. 'I am very cognizant of it every time I do anything in ministry that I represent a larger group than just me,' Malebranche said. 'I have this desire to not let them down,' he said. 'I want to be able to bring pride to a people who don't always see themselves represented.' A military chaplain. Before he ever considered ordination, the Rev. Mike Sampson, without conscious thought, made the sign of the cross – a decidedly Catholic ritual. 'I looked up and laughed,' he recalled. Though raised Protestant, he took the moment as a prompt from God to explore Catholicism. The California native practiced law while volunteering at his local parish in Arlington, Virginia. Six years after his conversion, he enrolled in seminary to become a priest. 'Very proud' is how his mother, Diane Sampson, described feeling after her son's recent ordination. His call to the priesthood was initially difficult for the Protestant family. 'One of the things that I think even most Catholics are challenged by is the idea of celibacy and not getting married and not having kids and the family name not carrying on,' the Rev. Sampson said. In three years, he will begin a five-year stint as a military chaplain with the US Navy. Fellow seminarians describe Sampson as a mentor. They say he is well-suited to the discipline of military life despite not serving in the armed forces before seminary when he was commissioned as a lieutenant. For now, he will serve at a parish close to the office complex where he once worked and where he occasionally went to noon Mass. 'He is coming back,' he said, 'but in a very different way.' A Peruvian connection. Pope Leo XIV, the first US-born pontiff, spent decades in Peru. In his first public appearance as pope, he addressed his former diocese in Spanish. 'I frankly couldn't believe it,' said the Rev. Alfredo Tuesta. 'He greeted us in our language. It was just beautiful.' Born in Lima, Peru, Tuesta immigrated to the US at age 10. His family settled in Paterson, New Jersey, a hub for the Peruvian diaspora. He attended Don Bosco, a nearby Catholic prep school. He was drawn to the priesthood from an early age, but as the firstborn son of immigrants, he felt he should support his family instead. 'Financially, we come from a very modest and humble background,' he said. 'And so you want to make it. You want to provide.' It was only after he earned a doctorate in mechanical engineering and was living in northern Virginia that he rediscovered his calling. By then, both of his parents had died. He has since heard from his mother's friends that she thought he might become a priest. His ordination drew loved ones from all over the world to celebrate. The self-described introvert was hesitant to be the center of attention. 'We're not really there to celebrate me and my priesthood because it really isn't mine,' he said, noting it's shared among his brother priests and community. 'What we're really celebrating is everyone there – everyone who contributed to my discernment, to my vocation, to my faith, to my upbringing.' An adventurous life. The Rev. Tim Banach is a thrill-seeker who enjoys the outdoors. With other seminarians and priests, he has hiked many mountain ranges and camped in the Badlands. The priestly life strikes him as an adventure too, where no day is the same. From weddings to funerals, priests serve thousands of people on their best and worst days. 'There are just these moments you get to share that can be overwhelming,' he said. 'But we're very privileged as well.' A native of Corning, New York, Banach first considered the priesthood while an engineering student at the University of Virginia. After graduation, he lived a 'pretty normal life,' he said, working at a consulting job and going on some dates. 'But that question never really went away.' The diocese eventually sent him to St. Charles Borromeo, a seminary near Philadelphia. He graduated in May. 'When I joined the seminary and met the kind of men that I could be serving alongside for the rest of my life, I was even more encouraged,' he said. 'Because they're exactly the type of guys that I want to be my brothers.'


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A Revolutionary War-era boat is being painstakingly rebuilt after centuries buried beneath Manhattan
Workers digging at Manhattan's World Trade Center site 15 years ago made an improbable discovery: sodden timbers from a boat built during the Revolutionary War that had been buried more than two centuries earlier. Now, over 600 pieces from the 50-foot (15-meter) vessel are being painstakingly put back together at the New York State Museum. After years on the water and centuries underground, the boat is becoming a museum exhibit. Arrayed like giant puzzle pieces on the museum floor, research assistants and volunteers recently spent weeks cleaning the timbers with picks and brushes before reconstruction could even begin. Though researchers believe the ship was a gunboat built in 1775 to defend Philadelphia, they still don't know all the places it traveled to or why it ended up apparently neglected along the Manhattan shore before ending up in a landfill around the 1790s. 'The public can come and contemplate the mysteries around this ship,' said Michael Lucas, the museum's curator of historical archaeology. 'Because, like anything from the past, we have pieces of information. We don't have the whole story.' From landfill to museum piece: The rebuilding caps years of rescue and preservation work that began in July 2010 when a section of the boat was found 22 feet (7 meters) below street level. Curved timbers from the hull were discovered by a crew working on an underground parking facility at the World Trade Center site near where the Twin Towers stood before the 9/11 attacks. The wood was muddy but well preserved after centuries in the oxygen-poor earth. A previously constructed slurry wall went right through the boat, though timbers comprising about 30 feet (9 meters) of its rear and middle sections were carefully recovered. Part of the bow was recovered the next summer on the other side of the subterranean wall. The timbers were shipped more than 1,400 miles (2,253 kilometers) to Texas A&M's Center for Maritime Archaeology and Conservation. Each of the 600 pieces underwent a three-dimensional scan and spent years in preservative fluids before being placed in a giant freeze-dryer to remove moisture. Then they were wrapped in more than a mile of foam and shipped to the state museum in Albany. While the museum is 130 miles (209 kilometers) up the Hudson River from lower Manhattan, it boasts enough space to display the ship. The reconstruction work is being done in an exhibition space so visitors can watch the weathered wooden skeleton slowly take the form of a partially reconstructed boat. Work is expected to finish around the end of the month, said Peter Fix, an associate research scientist at the Center for Maritime Archaeology and Conservation, who is overseeing the rebuilding. On a recent day, Lucas took time out to talk to passing museum visitors about the vessel and how it was found. Explaining the work taking place behind him, he told one group: 'Who would have thought in a million years someday this is going to be in a museum?' A nautical mystery remains: Researchers knew they found a boat under the streets of Manhattan. But what kind? Analysis of the timbers showed they came from trees cut down in the Philadelphia area in the early 1770s, pointing to the ship being built in a yard near the city. It was probably built hastily. The wood is knotty, and timbers were fastened with iron spikes. That allowed for faster construction, though the metal corrodes over time in seawater. Researchers now hypothesize the boat was built in Philadelphia in the summer of 1775, months after the first shots of the Revolutionary War were fired at Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts. Thirteen gunboats were built that summer to protect Philadelphia from potential hostile forces coming up the Delaware River. The gunboats featured cannons pointing from their bows and could carry 30 or more men. 'They were really pushing, pushing, pushing to get these boats out there to stop any British that might start coming up the Delaware,' Fix said. Historical records indicate at least one of those 13 gunboats was later taken by the British. And there is some evidence that the boat now being restored was used by the British, including a pewter button with '52' inscribed on it. That likely came from the uniform of a soldier with the British Army's 52nd Regiment of Foot, which was active in the war. It's also possible that the vessel headed south to the Caribbean, where the British redirected thousands of troops during the war. Its timbers show signs of damage from mollusks known as shipworms, which are native to warmer waters. Still, it's unclear how the boat ended up in Manhattan and why it apparently spent years partially in the water along shore. By the 1790s, it was out of commission and then covered over as part of a project to expand Manhattan farther out into the Hudson River. By that time, the mast and other parts of the Revolutionary War ship had apparently been stripped. 'It's an important piece of history,' Lucas said. 'It's also a nice artifact that you can really build a lot of stories around.'