Father Beiting Appalachian Mission Center at PO Box 885, Louisa, KY 41230 US - 55 years of Ministry in Appalachia

Fr. Beiting Relaxes at Point of Hope Pot Luck

It was on a warm, sunny afternoon on the seventh day of October, 1950, that I found myself driving into the parking lot of St. Mark Church in Richmond. I was to report to Msgr. Oscar Poole, the pastor of the church. His parish of seven counties in Eastern Kentucky had been divided in half, and I was assigned to be the pastor of southern Madison, Garrard, Rockcastle, and Jackson Counties. He was to tell me about my new parish and its people. I was only 26 years of age and had been a priest for one year. I knew nothing of this Appalachian area. I knew no one there, and I didn’t know where to begin. Msgr. Poole was generous and kind. He took me through my four-county parish, which, incidentally, is the same size as the state of Rhode Island. He was very factual and told me about the property the new parish had. It consisted of an old, worn out house in Berea, which needed much repair work done before I could live in it or turn it into a chapel. There was no money at my discretion. At that time, my priestly salary was $41 a month. As the first priest to live in Berea and its four counties, it wasn't long before I felt I was unwanted by those outside the Catholic faith. Prejudice and misunderstanding was very much part of the religious climate of the time. I felt unqualified for the task. My youth and inexperience were serious handicaps. Yet, I had been taught in my Catholic schooling for many years that prayer and sacrifice could obtain God’s hearing and that his strength and power could bring all good things about. So, I began to pray and work. In reflecting on my 55 years of ministry, there are many people to thank. I have served under five bishops, and each of whom has been kind and patient enough with me to allow me to spend all these years of priestly service in Appalachia. To them, I shall ever be grateful. During these 55 years, I have received many awards and honors for work accomplished. The reason I write this is to tell everyone that the honors do not belong to me. I have only been a voice calling out in the wilderness. The help and resources to make good come about have come from countless others scattered throughout the United States. I think of volunteers and, especially, my family. In the 55 years, more than 65,000 of them have come as a result of my call. They have been the workhorses, the praying faithful that have made good grow where there was little good before. I write letters, pamphlets, and books. People read them and money and resources of all kinds come to enrich our poor land. Sometimes, I try to estimate how much they have contributed over this 55-year period. Surely it has been more than $2 billion. When I think of this and remember the $41 I started with, a sense of gratitude and appreciation fills my heart. What special people are the people of America! They have the heart of God and a soul full of love. Each morning, as I go to church to begin my day with prayer, I instantly remember the priests and religious who have done so much to make my 55-year-old pilgrimage a journey filled with blessings and accomplishments I little thought possible. Some of those priests and religious came from the Archdiocese of Louisville. I am so indebted to Fr. O’Brien, the pastor of St. Mildred in Somerset. He explained to me the imperative of mail to gain support. He set me on a path I follow to this day. Faculty and students from Bellarmine College, Sacred Heart Academy, and Trinity High School, to mention but a few, were among my earliest supporters. The Diocese of Covington was my own home until 1988. Priests and religious of all ages cared for me and inspired me in so many ways. I remember the day Msgr. Jeep O’Neil came to see me at St. Clare, in Berea. He brought me a statue of the Infant of Prague. “Pray to Lord Jesus with all your heart, and you will persevere.” For years, Bishop Ackerman sent me seminarians for the summer. They assisted me in so many ways. They traveled the mountain roads with me, as we preached outdoors, about the wonders of Christ and the beauty of his church. How could I ever be without gratitude for those wonderful fellow priests who were my associates during those challenging days of that pilgrimage? They were gifts from God that I shall not forget. While they were all dedicated individuals, there is no question that Fr. Terence Hoppenjans stands so tall and special in my memory. I owe so much to them all. Then there is the Archdiocese of Cincinnati. It was here that I spent the first six years of my seminary training. It was truly a time of enlightenment. I learned so much about my faith. I grew in admiration and love for our Blessed Mother. I learned of St. Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort and his true devotion to the Blessed Virgin. The Eucharist and holy hours became the foundation of my priestly life. My love for the missions was developed at St. Gregory and St. Mary of the West. My classmates were special people who, in God’s plan, allowed me to grow in brotherly love. As I begin my 56th year of service, I become evermore convinced of the wonderment of the Catholic Church. It could take a country boy from Kentucky and expose him to a loving family, a community of dedicated priests and religious, to open his eyes and heart to a world of love and service. It challenged him to dream the impossible dream and never lose heart. As his work began, it gave him a whole nation of dedicated Catholic people who would support him with prayer, sacrifice, and generosity of every kind. With this church and its magnificent members, many extraordinary things have taken place in Appalachia. This family of God is the real hero. I am so grateful that they have touched my life with love. Without them, the 55-year pilgrimage could never have taken place and, because of them, love has filled the 'hollers' of Appalachia. It will take men an eternity to thank them adequately. May God bless you in every way. Thank you, thank you.

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