It’s a long drive from the heart of the Diocese of Raleigh to the tidewater region of Eastern North Carolina. That is where three Glenmary missions are, in Bertie, Washington, and Martin counties. On a Sunday afternoon, after celebrating Mass in two of those counties, there is one more stop for two Glenmary priests. An hour’s drive farther, in from the Atlantic coast, Catholics at Mattamuskeet Seafood plant are waiting for the priests to arrive. Glenmary Fathers Richard Toboso and José Carlos Miguel López are on the way.
“We are sharing with people on the periphery,” Father Richard explains. “These people have no parish.” And the distance? “With great joy in the heart, it is not very far.” That’s the missioner spirit that drives these men.
Faraway spots, both geographic and societal, are today’s challenge from Pope Francis. “The Church is called to come out of herself and go to the peripheries,” he told the cardinals who elected him. And Mattamuskeet is far away. There are no gas stations on the way; drivers of the three cars heading out there are cautioned to fill up before they go—and to watch out for black bears. (Father José Carlos once hit one!)
They arrive at the simple spot, between Lake Mattamuskeet and the Atlantic Ocean, a few miles from a harbor lined with shrimpers’ docks. Not too many miles out across Pamlico Sound are the tourist-rich Outer Banks, but you might as well be in another world. Behind the plant, this side of the soy fields, there is an open carport shelter amid a group of well-worn mobile homes and a few chicken coops. That’s where Mass will be this afternoon.
The cars pull up near the shelter and the priests, along with a handful of parishioners who came along, get out and start setting up for Mass, under the shelter. “They’re here!” the word goes door-to-door. A car horn sounds. Women, men, and a few children gather under the carport, maybe 30 all-told. Maria Cerino Garcia is the key organizer, as she is for most things here. “We don’t have family nearby, just coworkers,” she explains. Then, speaking of the pandemic, she adds, “and in this very difficult time we are living, it’s all the more important to have God close to us.”
It is difficult, fast-paced work. The crab meat will be sold at stores in the eastern U.S.
Maria, originally from the state of Tabasco, Mexico, has been working at Mattamuskeet Seafood for 30 years. And she personally recruits coworkers from Tabasco to apply for work visas and come to the plant for crab season.
They work the crabs, carefully and rapidly, picking meat out of crab after crab from constantly refreshed pile after pile, then discarding the shells into 32-gallon trash cans that are emptied all day long. One false move and a finger is cut. Only a skilled worker can move fast. They work for $9.22 per hour, plus piece-rate: faster work means more income. They’re paid only when there are crabs; a slow season means less pay for spending months far from home and family. It’s difficult work for a modest income.
The result of their work is packages of crab meat, crab cakes and oysters sold in grocery stores across the eastern United States. The workers head back to Mexico each November. Some stay through oyster season, then, too, return home. A handful are permanent residents of the U.S., and live nearby.
People of Faith
“We come from a firm, Catholic religion. Wherever we are, it’s important for us to have a celebration. It’s an encounter with Christ when we are at Mass,” says Maria. But there are no parishes nearby.
Many years ago, there were priests in Nags Head, across Pamlico Sound, who would make the drive every few months to celebrate Mass, maybe four times a year, recalls Maria. There were religious sisters stationed about an hour in the other direction, at Plymouth, who would come to bring some clothing and personal supplies. It was one of them who told then-Glenmary pastoral associate Julian Crespo about the need in Mattamuskeet.
Glenmary Father José Carlos Miguel López is able to speak to the migrant workers in their native Spanish.
Six years ago, Julian coordinated with Glenmary priests, first Father Mike Kerin, then Father Aaron Wessman, to start making the two-hour trip from Windsor, in Bertie County. They would come every few months.
Then, more recently, Fathers Richard and José Carlos established a residence in Washington County, in Plymouth, an hour from Mattamuskeet. Maria proudly explains, “We now have the blessing of God that Father José is working with Father Ricardo in Plymouth, they already scheduled us twice a month.” That typically is on the first and fourth Tuesdays; and sometimes on a Sunday, like today, the Feast of the Assumption.
‘The Lord Be With You’
Despite the humble setting, people dress up for this festive Mass. Rosario Velásquez brought his guitar, and an amplifier and speakers that are typically used to play upbeat music in the quick-paced processing plant. A few folding tables are covered with a linen for a makeshift altar; an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe finds its place nearby. Folding chairs are lined up in neat rows, and, as the people gather, and Rosario tunes his guitar, Fathers Richard and José Carlos vest. Soon, Rosario and a few singers kick off the opening song and it’s the Mass all Catholics know so well.
Father Richard is the principal celebrant at this simple Mass, but today Father José Carlos preaches the homily. He is from Mexico, and can speak to the heart of the people, in their own tongue.
He speaks of the Virgin Mary, and of the day’s Gospel announcing her joy and openness as she proclaimed the Magnificat: “My spirit rejoices in God, my savior…he has lifted up the lowly…he has filled the hungry with good things….”
Mission parishioner Arlene Purugganan Carroll has collected materials and funds from fellow parishioners, gone to the store, and prepared bags of food and toiletries for the workers’ families.
It is in the joyous spirit of the Magnificat that St. Joan of Arc parishioners share their own gifts. Fathers Richard and José Carlos announce in their mission parishes when they will be coming to Mattamuskeet, and parishioners generously donate food, clothing, personal items. This week Arlene Purugganan Carroll has taken the donations, added her own, and purchased goods.Then she sorted them into care packages for the workers. “I heard about this and had to help,” she says.
Today she will bring eight bags, each with some food and personal supplies, and distribute them after Mass. “I put in canned goods, toothpaste, a bar of soap—whatever they like! They like apple cider vinegar, and honey.” She includes those in her bags, too. “What you do for others, you do for Christ.”
The generosity of these missioner priests and their parishioners does not go unnoticed. Following each Mass, the celebration continues with a festive meal under the simple shelter. Maria and her coworkers prepare delicious homemade dishes of their homeland: gorditas, tacos dorados, pollo en mole (delicious chicken in mole sauce). It is the “widow’s mite,” that Jesus spoke of, a biblical offering from their own poverty. Sometimes the pilgrims who have driven so far stay well into the evening to share in this social time. It is a sign of respect, of dignity, to celebrate together.
That is the key here: getting directly into the lives of these humble people, says Father José Carlos: “Sometimes, over there [at the plant], there’s a strong aroma of the shells of the crabs that they throw. They live there because they don’t have an option. Pope Francis says that we have to ‘smell like the sheep.’ That’s kind of what we try to do. We have to go and look at the sheep where they are. That is our mission. It doesn’t matter how far we drive and how late at night we come back. In the end you feel, ‘OK. I did something beautiful today.’”
Story by John Feister. Omar Cabrera contributed to this story, with Spanish-language interviews and translations.
This story first appeared in the Winter 2021 edition of Glenmary Challenge magazine.