Photo By Master Sgt. Steph Sawyer | Capt. Peter Julia, a chaplain in the 142nd Wing, poses for a photo in the chapel of...... read more read more
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Portland, Ore.—It’s Christmas morning 2022. Father Peter Julia, having removed his shoes and socks, and rolled up his pant legs, wades barefoot through the pool of water that has accumulated on the floor of the chapel at Portland Air National Guard Base. A recent cold snap has caused a pipe to burst in the old building.
The chapel sits largely dormant in between drills and until this moment, no one had been aware of the leak. Father Peter only discovered it by chance, while popping in to collect the sacramental “host” (the communion bread) for an impromptu Christmas mass that he was giving in the alert facility on base.
Indeed, the mass itself had been unexpected, made possible only because Father Peter’s flight home to Texas had been cancelled due to bad weather. Among those in attendance would be Col. Todd Hofford, then Commander of the 142nd Wing, who was currently serving on the alert crew over the holiday.
Col. Hofford also happened to be the person responsible for Father Peter’s joining the Air National Guard. But then, that was just another in a long string of unlikely events that landed Father Peter in his current situation.
How Peter Julia Became Father Peter
Peter Julia was 32 years old when he “felt the call” to join the priesthood—a late age by conventional measure.
He was born to a Catholic household in Brooklyn, New York, and lived in Holmdel, New Jersey, for several years before his family settled in Southlake, Texas, where he spent his formative years. Later, he went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in health and fitness studies from Baylor University in Waco, Texas. It was there that Father Peter experienced a tragedy that he now regards as a key factor in his eventually joining the priesthood.
While at Baylor—when he was still just Peter, a young, lay college student—he met and fell in love with Kristin Day, a girl from one of his classes. They began a relationship, and, in time, they became engaged. Tragically, Kristin passed away from a severe medical illness while they were still in college.
He described it as a devasting event that permanently altered his understanding of life and his purpose in the world. “She literally died in my arms, in hospice with her family surrounding her,” he recalled.
Experiencing a loss of such magnitude forces things into perspective, he explained; it has the effect of trivializing all other concerns in life. But for him, with this trivialization also eventually came clarity, enlightenment.
“Of course, in that moment, you don’t see anything in the future. You’re very much blinded by the moment…it was kind of one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. Not too many 21-year-old men are confronted with mortality like that.”
“The curse in the short term is [the feeling that] ‘nothing means anything.’ Everything else seems silly and small compared to that tragic event. But then, at the same time, what it reveals is that everything is silly and small compared to the end of our lives and our transition to the afterlife,” said Julia. “To be with God in Heaven—that’s what comes next... everything that happens between this moment and the moment when we take our last breath is oriented toward that goal. I was blessed to be confronted with these ideas at a younger age than most, and it is definitely something that I draw upon now as a priest.”
After graduating from college, Father Peter relocated to Colorado and then eventually to Portland, Oregon. During that time, his work reflected a passion for fitness and the outdoors. He worked in the bicycle industry and as a professional rock-climbing instructor, a coach, and a nature guide. At one point, he got married and then subsequently divorced. He lived a life much like any other until entering the seminary at age 32.
Such is an unconventional background for a Catholic priest, he acknowledges. However, it is something that he is thankful for because he feels it not only humanizes him and legitimizes his counsel in the eyes of his parishioners, but it also affords him invaluable insight into the struggles that many of them face.
“When people find out my backstory, it’s somewhat helpful,” he says, “because it means that when somebody in the Air Force is in trouble, that they actually come talk to me… [Whereas, in other circumstances,] they might have said ‘What does Father Peter know about my struggles in marriage?’ I can say, chuckling, ‘Well, he actually knows a thing or two.’”
“So, there’s an insight and understanding there for me as a priest, and I don’t think I would have come to some of those conclusions without some of the pain or difficulties and suffering of my life,” said Julia.
The Path to Priesthood
The path to priesthood is a lengthy one that entails rigorous academic and spiritual training. For Father Peter, it began with two years of study in the pre-theology program at Mt. Angel Seminary, where he earned a post-graduate certificate in philosophy. After that, he spent three years studying at the Pontifical North American College in Vatican City, where he earned his Licentiate in Sacred Theology from the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome. After that, he was ordained a transitional deacon at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Two years later, and after a total of 8 years of study and training, Father Peter was officially ordained as a Catholic priest at the age of 39. He currently serves as the Director of Vocations for the Portland Archdiocese—a role whose duties are undoubtedly informed as much by his life experiences as by his ecclesiastical training.
In his role as Director of Vocations, Father Peter offers guidance to parishioners on choosing major life paths, whether it be marriage, the priesthood, a non-religious career, or something else. He describes this as helping others to “discern God’s call,” and he emphasizes that a vocation is not just a job, but a “calling”: “The term ‘vocation’ derives from the Latin vocare, meaning “‘to call,’” he reminds us. Whereas “job” connotes labor necessary to sustain oneself, a “calling” is grander in scope; it is about contributing to something beyond oneself.
How Father Peter Became Chaplain Julia
Military chaplains are described as those who “hear the call within the call;” that is, as those who have a desire to serve both God and country. For Father Peter, that secondary call first emerged early in his studies, while he was still attending Mt. Angel Seminary. One day, a military chaplain came to speak to his class on the great need for those willing to serve God in uniform. Father Peter was immediately intrigued, and for seven years, throughout most of his theological training, he held ambitions for becoming a military chaplain. However, his Church leadership remained reluctant to sign off on it, fearing the added commitment might detract from his important work with them.
Enter: Col. Todd Hofford.
One Sunday morning, Father Peter was delivering the homily during mass. His homilies tend to be light-hearted, anecdotal, and narrative-driven. This one involved the metaphor of a Swiss army knife. The theme was one of spiritual readiness expressed in the phrase: “Always be Prepared.” “Always be prepared to meet God,” Father Peter said, holding his knife aloft. Unbeknownst to him, among the congregation that day was Col. Todd Hofford and his wife. Upon hearing Father Peter’s words, and how remarkably they resonated with the military notion of readiness, Col. Hofford’s wife leaned over and whispered to her husband, “You need to tell this to the Airmen.” To which Col. Hofford responded, “No, he (pointing to Julia) needs to tell it to them.”
As soon as Col. Hofford witnessed Father Peter’s charismatic and inspirational speaking, he knew he wanted him to join the 142nd Wing. It wasn’t long before he approached Father Peter to become the chaplain for the wing. Father Peter recalled that Col. Hofford said, “I’ve been in the military for almost 30 years. I know what our Airmen need, and you’re what we’re looking for.”
Father Peter was enthusiastic but doubtful that his leadership at the archdiocese would approve it.
“I told Col. Hofford, ‘You had me at “hello,”’ he said. “I’ve actually been talking about doing this for years…but the way it works in my world is you have to convince my boss [the archbishop].”
So, Col. Hofford made a direct appeal to the archbishop. He, with the aid of 142nd Wing Chaplain, Maj. Bob Edwards, crafted a letter to the archbishop of the Portland Archdiocese entreating him to allow Father Peter to join the wing. In the letter, he reminded the archbishop that the unit had been without a Catholic chaplain for almost a decade. The last lines of his letter read: “Now is the time, the Holy Spirt is engaged. Father Peter is that man. This is a plea for your support.”
Father Peter recalled that when he read those last lines, he thought, “that’s how a fighter pilot writes a sentence.’ You know, it’s like this direct kind of attack that is challenging to gracefully dodge.”
“People might not know,” Father Peter explained, “but when you [a priest] say you want to be a chaplain, that’s like a staring contest between you and your bishop because they are so worried about losing you to the active duty military, that no bishops want to say yes to you joining any part of the military [even the Guard or Reserve].”
Despite this, Col. Hofford’s letter was effective. The archbishop acquiesced to Father Peter’s taking on the additional role. Father Peter was elated.
How Father Peter landed in the Soggy Chapel on Christmas Day
Fast forward several months later to Christmas Day, 2022. Father Peter is a newly sworn-in chaplain with the 142nd Wing. He is a drilling member but does not yet have a uniform. Hence, the “clerics” (the standard black priest uniform) he wears on base.
Father Peter should not have been in Portland at this time. He had made arrangements to fly home to Texas to spend the holidays with his family. However, harsh weather conditions resulted in his flight being cancelled. Thus, Father Peter found himself spending the holidays alone in Portland unexpectedly.
He had just settled back in when suddenly the phone rang. It was Lt. Col. John Middlemore, then 116th Air Control Squadron Commander. One of his Airmen had been gravely injured in an automobile accident, and he wanted to know if Father Peter was available to go be with him at the hospital. Father Peter said “of course.” It was by sheer chance that he was present in Portland and able to attend to the Airman.
Father Peter visited the Airman and prayed with him and his family. After he left, he again found himself alone on Christmas Day. Not wishing to sit idle, he called Col. Hofford and asked if he could come celebrate mass with the members serving on the alert crew (among whom was Col. Hofford, himself). Col. Hofford enthusiastically agreed.
Father Peter rushed over to base dressed in his clerics. Once he arrived at the alert barn, he discovered that, in his haste, he had forgotten the “host,” the communion wafers that are central to the mass ceremony. He remembered thinking it was an odd omission, uncharacteristic of him to forget such a crucial item. The base chapel had communion wafers on hand, so he quickly ran over there. That was when he discovered the pipes had burst. His random forgetfulness had turned out to be serendipitous because, he said, “It was Christmas break. Who knows the next time somebody would have walked into the chapel? It probably would have been at least two weeks until somebody had any reason to go in there.”
Now, inside the chapel, water is presently gushing forth like a geyser from somewhere behind the toilet. Father Peter sloshes over, braces himself against the ancient fiberboard wall (leaving a lasting impression), and fishes around for the shutoff valve.
“At this point, I am already soaked from head to toe. The water is gushing over my head. I start turning the water off, and I’m sure like a modern-day valve probably turns off after four or five turns, but this valve from 1941 takes significantly more turns.”
Eventually he manages to stem the flow to a rate about equal to that of a garden hose. The fire department will soon arrive to shut off the main and complete the job.
While awaiting them, Father Peter recalls some advice that he recently offered a group of young seminarians just at the outset of their ecclesiastical studies: “It’s a long journey and you will struggle and have doubts…but you will also sometimes have just these little epiphanic moments—what we call ‘God moments’—moments when you realize ‘I was made for this. I was born for this. This is exactly where I am supposed to be.’ So, learn to listen for those.”
Now, standing there, sopping wet in his priest uniform, Father Peter considers the long, personal journey that landed him alone in the flooded chapel of the Portland Air National Guard base on a frigid Christmas day. In the midst of what he characterized as “a moment of pure joy—a ‘God moment,’” he laughs and says: “Yes, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.”
| Date Taken: | 03.25.2025 |
| Date Posted: | 03.25.2025 12:49 |
| Story ID: | 493685 |
| Location: | PORTLAND AIR GUARD STATION, OREGON, US |
| Web Views: | 40 |
| Downloads: | 0 |
This work, On Priesthood and Plumbing: Father Peter Julia’s Journey to Service, by SrA Damien Weaver, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.
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