The Scrapbook
Sister Marita Rother created a work of love when she pieced together a massive scrapbook dedicated to the life and death of her brother, Father Stanley Rother 
By Laura Rigazzi
The Sooner Catholic 

 “In loving memory of my brother, Father Stanley Rother (Padre Franciso).”  This is the opening caption of a scrapbook made by Sister Marita Rother as a tribute to her brother’s life and martyrdom.  Its contents range from personal letters from Father Rother, as well as from his friends after his death to his family, to in-depth articles about his family history and the mission in Santiago Atitlán to national commentaries on the death of “an Oklahoma priest in Guatemala.”  In addition to large amounts of text, the pages are dotted with photographs of the mission, his family, and “his people,” the Tzutuhil. Viewed together, these elements create a more substantial portrait of Father Stanley Rother for those of us of us who did not know him.  

Sister Marita said she made the scrapbook to “keep things together.”  The sheer amount of articles published about Father Rother both before and after his death is overwhelming, and, according to both Sister and the pages of the scrapbook, so were the cards and letters of condolence, the messages and signatures a testament to the many people affected by his death.  Sister Marita began the scrapbook not long after his death, but it took over a year, working on it in her spare time, to compile.  She began with family mementos: pictures of Father Stan’s family, including one showing the priest blessing his parents, Franz and Gertrude, on their 40th anniversary. Other keepsakes include articles, an invitation, and commemorative items from his ordination and First Solemn Mass, and pictures of the chalice and vestments he received for those occasions.

After these rather private pages, there is an abrupt change of focus; the next pages feature perhaps the most popular photograph of Father Rother, holding the hand of a young Tzutuhil, with the headline “Stanley Rother: missionary and martyr.  1935-1981.”  This photo begins the portrait of Father Rother not only as a priest and a Rother, but as a man who died for the people he served.  The next article is titled “My people need me,” an allusion to his reason for going back to Guatemala after returning to Oklahoma because of his position on a death list, and further emphasizes his dedication and love for the Tzutuhil.  Photographs of the actual mission in Santiago Atitlán show an immense crowd of people at the funeral Mass for Father Rother at Santiago Apostól, his mission church.  The coffin carefully and beautifully crafted by the indigenous people for Apla’s, as they called him, was unfortunately too fragile to survive a trip to the United States, but is shown hoisted on their shoulders as they recessed from the church.  His heart and a jar of his blood, requested by the community there, was kept and buried under the church itself during a memorial Mass about a month following his death, which over 3, 000 people attended.

Sister Marita’s scrapbook then shows the mourning for Father Rother in Oklahoma, at his funeral Mass at Our Lady’s Cathedral.  Pressed flowers surround pictures of the grieving Rother family and Sister Marita’s poignant caption: “Until we meet again...”  She chronicles his return to Oklahoma, through articles, and includes one side of Father Stan that is not nearly as well-known: his funny side.  An interview with The Sooner Catholic in 1977 features two anecdotes.  One features a dog named Snowball who hated him, even coming into the church and snarling at him during Mass, and the other concerns an incident involving Mayan pantaloons, which cuff at the knee, and a few women’s reactions.  One noted his “nice, white legs” and the other saying “I’d sure like to have him for a husband,” to which Father Rother “spun around and shouted ‘Yes!’”  He said, “They were so embarrassed and we had a great laugh.”

The articles about Father Rother’s death and its repercussions were published both in local and national newspapers.  The response was overwhelming: groups rallied together, and more than 14,000 Oklahomans signed a petition to “exert full diplomatic pressure upon the government of Guatemala” for a more extensive investigation into Father Rother’s death.  Frankie Williams, a close friend to Father Rother, having spent her vacations at the mission, spoke in front of the Subcommittee on Inter-American Affairs and the Subcommittee on Human Rights and International Relations of the Committee on Foreign Affairs of the U.S. House of Representatives, “to protest the killing of [her] friend,” urging the U.S. to withhold all economic or military aid to Guatemala, which could only further the oppression of the people Father Rother died helping.  Numerous kidnappings had occurred since troops came to Santiago Atitlán. Frankie said she and Father Rother had witnessed the kidnapping of their friend, a catechist named Diego Quic, from the front porch of the rectory.  Many of his other friends spoke out in letters and articles.  A television news crew from Oklahoma City went to Guatemala and filmed “Death of a Priest,” a documentary about Father Rother and his mission.  The New York Times published one of Father Rother’s letters as “A Cry from Guatemala” to give the country an idea of the environment of fear in which the people were living.  Father Rother’s mission and death had caused a new awareness of the plight of the people of Guatemala.

The church year of 1982 was declared “The Year of the Martyrs,” by the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, celebrating the lives and deaths of Father Rother and four women martyred in El Salvador, Sisters Ita Ford, Maura Clarke, and Dorothy Kazel, and Ms. Jean Donovan.  A Martyr March was held on December 2, 1981, and drew visitors from three states to march from Holy Trinity in Okarche to the cemetery.   A pine branch was given to each member of the march, and the red ribbon with the slip of paper declaring the year of the martyrs tied around it is preserved in the scrapbook.

Sister Marita said that she herself benefited from making this scrapbook.  During the process, it helped her keep “in touch with reality,” but also gave her a new perspective.  She realized how other people saw Father Stan, and said, “Being my brother, I never thought of him that way, and came to appreciate my vocation, and that he was willing to give it all...He taught me the meaning of life, [that it is] not for ourselves, but for others.”