A popular Father at Sacred Heart

“We’ve been priests for four years. Nothing has burned down– it’s a good day,” laughs Father Thè Hoàng of Waseca’s Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Hoàng celebrated his anniversary on June 8. Having been with the Sacred Heart parish for two years, the religious leader reflects on what has gotten him to this point, and what it means to be in Waseca. 

Born and raised in nearby Owatonna, Hoàng participated in an array of sports during school, but always remembered that faith was a central value in his family. His parents had immigrated from Vietnam in the early 1970s.

“My parents have seen a lot,” he says. His mother was a nurse: His father did pretty much everything as the eldest child of a very large family. 

Working to get money to support his family, Hoàng’s father landed a job with the South Vietnamese Navy.  That got him connected with a U.S. program which allows priests to sponsor families to come live in the United States. So Hoàng’s parents found themselves in Owatonna, sponsored by a local priest.

“Mental health is not talked about much,” Hoàng said in relation to his Vietnamese community. “So [my parents] found ways to recover and recoup from those traumatic experiences.” Hoàng says his parents did that through faith, and went on to teach their two sons that life is short, so matters of spirit should be given priority.

Growing up, Hoàng loved studying English, art, music, language, and all of the “right brain” activities. When he considered future career options, he declared he wanted to be a priest–but mostly because his brother had said the same. 

Hoàng laughs at the way things eventually turned out. He is a priest; his brother is happily married and works at crunching numbers. 

Other circumstances also led Hoàng into the priesthood. He attended a Catholic school throughout his elementary and middle school years. In sixth grade, he and his classmates began taking part in “adoration,” a time of silent prayer and meditation.

One of his teachers saw a potential in him that he did not yet see in himself. “She asked me the haunting question- ‘What do you want to do for the rest of your life?’”

In a tone that implies he remembers the moment vividly, Hoàng’s soft voice claims, “I don’t know, I’m a fourth grader.”

But the question got Hoàng thinking. He remembers speculating, “If I were to do this job, how happy would I be?” Prior to the life-changing question, Hoàng had pictured himself becoming a teacher, with priesthood as a second choice. Hoàng had kept his desire to teach “hush hush” as he put it, because it was unheard of for a young guy to want to be a teacher. At least in Owatonna at the time, teaching was mainly for the ladies. 

But Hoàng’s elementary teacher was supportive. He remembers her saying that there would come a day when family life would be different–different from what he had grown up with and from what his younger self thought of as “typical.” Hoàng remembers her telling him that boys of the future would need a father figure.

In sixth grade, Hoàng’s hopes of becoming a teacher were strengthened when he encountered his first male teacher. Having acquired proof that his dream was possible, he held on to it, his philosophy becoming, “It can be done; I’ll do it.” 

In high school, Hoàng’s desire to teach grew. He saw what he regarded as a problem: teachers were more accepting and supportive of students who were smart and seemed academically inclined. They were less open to “hands-on, blue collar, technical college” students. “They really looked down on those kids,” he remembers. To help make up for that perceived gap, Hoàng found himself gravitating towards those kids, supporting and mentoring them through school. He remembers telling them, “You go do your work. I’ll mentor you so you can have enough grace to pass.” Hoàng was acting on his belief that a good teacher should be impartial and, regardless of what background students came from, the playing field should be even. Good teaching, he believed, comes from the heart.

“I wanted to teach because I wanted to make a dang difference,” Hoàng said. 

Two tragic deaths of friends brought difficulties, reducing the central position that faith had always held for him. He wrestled with the age-old question of why bad things happen to good people. When his classmates confronted him, asking how he could believe in a god who allows tragedies, he had no answer.  

During that time of crisis, the priest of his own church was a supportive role model to him, so he started going back to his faith. His priest encouraged him to try the seminary, so he did. 

Hoàng remembers being excited to fill out the application, but pausing when it came to signing his name.

“Do I know what this entails?”

“Can I live a life of not being married?”

All of these questions chipped away at his confidence. “It took forever to sign my name,” he said. But Hoàng’s priest encouraged him to give the seminary at least one year, and so he did.

Even though he had decided to go, he was still bothered by the idea of losing out on someday becoming a parent. However, soon after he arrived it was explained to him that a good priest shows what it means to be a father. 

Hoàng found it a great comfort to know that–in a very important way–every seminary student and priest was destined to become a father. It’s “sacrificing fatherhood to live a supernatural, spiritual fatherhood,” he explained. 

So Hoàng started his seminary career with the desire to teach and become the best father that he could be. One year turned to seven, and he graduated, first, from St. Mary’s University after four years with a bachelor’s degree in philosophy and Spanish and, later, from the Sacred Heart Seminary in Detroit with a degree in theology. He became a deacon, then was later ordained as a priest. 

Every year, Hoàng says he asks God the same question: “God, will you still take me?” And every year, God answers back, “Yes.”

After finishing his education, Hoàng was placed in Pax Christi in Rochester, where he served two parishes for two years, moving briskly from one event to the next. Here in Waseca, “I don’t have to run as much,” he says, chuckling. Small town Waseca has taught him that he doesn’t have to go fast anymore. Thè says that this allows him to focus on tasks more tightly, leading to higher quality.  For example, Hoàng and his friend, colleague, and fellow graduate, Father Brian Mulligan in Janesville, have been running their podcast “The Practical Rambling Fathers” to talk about and teach what they themselves learned in the seminary. 

Hoàng summarizes where he stands, now, on some of the questions which were once a source of conflict for him.  “I really care for the community. I take my priesthood seriously and I love all my spiritual children.”