Seminarian Juan Samaniego reflects on a recent mission trip that took him from the Seminary classroom, to the fields of a struggling desert community near Palm Springs. Amid freezing mornings, hard labor, and vibrant cultural traditions, Juan witnessed the resilience and faith of a people deeply devoted to God and Our Lady of Guadalupe. Through this eye-opening experience, he not only deepened his appreciation for the community’s strength but also found renewed clarity and purpose in his Priestly vocation. Father Hau Vu sat with Juan and asked him a couple questions to further discuss his experience:
Fr. Hau: Could you share more about that day? What were the details—when did it begin, what was the plan, and what was your experience?
Juan: Sure! So this took place last Monday, a couple of days after finals. We were preparing for a trip to Mexico with the Diocese of San Bernardino. Specifically, we went to a desert community near Palm Springs, though it’s a much poorer area compared to Palm Springs itself. The community is surrounded by fields growing fruits and vegetables.
The night before, we loaded toys onto a van for a community event, planning to give them away while we were there. We also packed our luggage, including extra clothes, because we knew we’d be working in the fields and getting dirty. Afterward, we planned to join the community for a posada (a traditional Advent celebration with Mass and a procession).
We left early Tuesday morning at 5:30 a.m. We were all a bit groggy and still recovering from finals, but that’s part of the mission. Javier drove the van, and the rest of us followed in another car. It was about a two-hour drive, and when we arrived, it was freezing—about 40 degrees. People often think of the desert as hot, but it gets really cold in the mornings.
When we arrived, Deacon Francisco and Father (I can’t remember his name right now) greeted us with coffee and a light breakfast. It was a nice touch, even though we had already eaten before leaving. That extra boost of energy helped because once we got to the fields, we started picking bell peppers. The locals call this work "pisca", which refers to harvesting fruits or vegetables.
We worked alongside the community for about three hours. At first, it was cold, but as the sun rose, we started to warm up. Even though the weather wasn’t too hot, we could feel the physical toll of the work. We brought long sleeves to protect ourselves from scratches while reaching into the bushes. It was exhausting, and I couldn’t imagine doing that every day. Most of the workers there were undocumented, and many didn’t speak English. They were working so hard—much harder than we were, even in just those few hours.
At lunchtime, we ate burritos with Deacon and Father, who joined us in the fields. During the break, we also sang songs of praise and worship in Spanish. Some of the workers sang along, while others just looked at us curiously, wondering what we were doing. It was a beautiful experience to pray and sing together.
After lunch, we visited the local church. The priest gave us a talk about the struggles of the community, including economic challenges and systemic injustices. Many of these people had been in the U.S. for over 20 years but were still stuck in low-paying jobs with little hope of advancement. The priest explained how these hardships affect the faith community. Many of the workers are from an indigenous tribe in northern Mexico, and some don’t even speak Spanish—only their native dialects and some English.
One thing that struck me was how much the community suffers. For example, we visited a neighborhood called “the 70s,” where the water system is contaminated with arsenic. They can’t drink or bathe in the water, so the government brings in gallons of water for them. It’s a constant struggle, yet their faith remains strong.
What impressed me most was their devotion, especially to Our Lady of Guadalupe. Despite the challenges they face, their faith is vibrant, and they’ve preserved their beautiful culture. After Mass, we watched a procession and dance rehearsal for the matachines (traditional dancers). The dancers wear wooden sandals that make a rhythmic sound as they move, and the women wear stunning, intricately designed dresses. It was inspiring to see how much effort they put into celebrating their faith.
I even found myself bobbing along to the rhythm, though I stayed in the background. Father Javier laughed at how much I was enjoying myself. It was a long day—we didn’t return to the seminary until 10:30 p.m.—but it was incredibly fulfilling.
Fr. Hau: How did this experience impact your vocation? Did it motivate or inspire you in any way?
Juan: Absolutely. Before the trip, one of the priests told me that these pastoral and missionary experiences are a true test of whether God is calling you to this vocation. Seminary life involves a lot of studying—philosophy, theology, and writing essays—but being with the people is what priesthood is really about.
This trip was a breath of fresh air. After the intensity of finals, I was reminded of why I was called to the seminary in the first place. Seeing the community’s thirst for God, their faith, and their resilience moved me deeply. Their devotion to Christ and Our Lady of Guadalupe was inspiring, but I also saw the need for more priests—holy priests who are willing to give themselves entirely to the people.
For me, this trip reinforced my calling. A priest’s role is to be a servant, to sacrifice everything for the spiritual well-being of the community. It’s not about personal gain; it’s about being Christ’s presence among the people.
I left the trip feeling more motivated than ever. It’s a reminder that the priesthood isn’t just a job—it’s a mission. God calls us to cooperate with Him, to be instruments of His grace. That’s what I hope to be, God willing, as a priest someday.
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