By A.M. Kelley
Superior Catholic Herald
Tran survived hardships of postwar Vietnam
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ASHLAND -- Forgiveness can elude a sincere and hardy soul. Crushing wrongs may distort hope. And lesser blows may fester into resentment.
In spite of witnessing some of modern history's cruelest years, Br. Thinh Van Tran does not seem to languish in any of these no man's lands. He bypassed the road of bitterness and chose mercy.
How did he accomplish this?
Known as Br. "Teen" at Our Lady of the Lake Parish, the 33-year-old Franciscan sat down with the Catholic Herald in Ashland midway through his "supervising year"--his final year before making solemn vows--to talk about his life as a Vietnamese refugee, his transition to America and the remarkable companion with him on the long journey: his vocation.
"Forgiveness doesn't mean that you forget," he said.
Tran has a lot to remember. He was born in 1974, the fourth of the eight sons of his father, Tan Van Tran, and his mother, Tac Thi Nguyen, farmers in a small village in South Vietnam.
His birthday came one year before the end of the Vietnam War after American troops pulled out of the country on April 30, 1975, the date Saigon fell to the communists. The South had surrendered to the North Vietnamese after three decades of civil war ravaged the country.
Tran's father was a farmer but he was also a soldier in the South Vietnamese Army (the Republic of Vietnam). After the fall of Saigon, life was brutal for loyal citizens in the south. His father was imprisoned for a year, he said, and "the communists took everything from many families and Catholic communities: our belongings, our money, our land and our school. Many people, especially in the big city became homeless and were hungry all the time. We grew up in a situation not good for family life."
It was better that Tran's family lived in the country because they grew food. Still it was a very hard life. Everyone--even children--worked in the fields all day long.
Children of South Vietnamese soldiers were not allowed to attend public high schools, he said, unless, in some cases, substantial bribes could be paid.
"Some sent their children out of the country or paid secretly for education," he said. "My father didn't do that."
Catholic and Buddhist private schools and places of worship were closed.
"The government took them over," he said.
From 1975 until 1990 the tight controls remained in place. When Tran was of an age to attend high school they eased a bit but still his parents paid more--three times more--for his education.
"My parents had to work hard and pay for me to go to school," he said. "When I was a child I never paid attention to how hard they worked."
With maturity and hindsight, the injustices are clear.
"But the war created that type of country," he said.
Like any child he had dreams. What would he be when he grew up? A nurse? A tractor driver? A priest? He remembers his parents saying, "If you want bananas and chicken eggs, you have to study to become a priest."
Now it can be said that Tan Van Tran and Tac Thi Nguyen and their eight sons survived and all live in the United States. Through a network of Vietnamese immigrants, each claiming responsibility for another, the family split apart, and came back together in the United States, one at a time. The emigration of the entire family was spread out over 21 years.
Why did they come to the United States?
"For a better life. For a future with promise," Tran said.
Leaving Vietnam behind began in 1983 when his eldest brother found his way to Chicago. Three years later, employed and with savings, he sponsored another brother. In 1994 the two brothers had enough money to sponsor their parents. Tran remained in Vietnam and cared for his four younger brothers. Their father sponsored three of his sons in 1999, and then in 2001, two more, one of these was Tran, who brought along a treasure to Chicago--his dream to become a priest.
"My vocation was born in Vietnam," he said.
Not all Westerners fled the country after the fall of Saigon. Some journalists and missionaries stayed behind.
"When I was a child," Tran said, "my parents knew friars in (our) parish. I was influenced by that."
What he saw were men who served the poor.
He visited the Franciscan friary often for several years "to learn to pray and to learn the Franciscan way," he said.
They sent him into poor villages. He found the work meaningful.
"(It) helped me learn what was really important in life," he said.
Shortly after he joined the order he received the clearance to emigrate. The Franciscans in Vietnam contacted the Sacred Heart Province in St. Louis, Mo., and all encouraged him to continue his postulancy in the United States.
When Tran arrived in Chicago he was reunited with most of his family. (The eighth--the last son--arrived in 2004). The transition had been hardest for his father, Tran said. Learning new skills and a difficult language were real barriers, but he too found employment--in a plastics factory. But his father carried an additional burden: memories of the war and all that his family endured and lost.
"He has nightmares," Tran said. "He yells, screams really loud at night when he's sleeping." Tran stayed with his family for one year and then he went "back to the Franciscans."
He said he relinquished his obligation to help relatives still in Vietnam and could pursue his vocation because his brothers picked up the slack.
"I feel free to stay with the Franciscans," he said. "I'm grateful and blessed because my brothers can help with relatives. It's a burden for my brothers and my parents."
He is also grateful to the Franciscans and dreams of becoming a priest.
"I love this way of life," he said. "The friars gave me a chance to travel and learn."
He studied in Texas and last summer camped with youths in Alaska and then in August came to Ashland, a place of small town comforts.
"Here, you never get lost," he said. "I grew up that way in Vietnam."
He is serving the people of Ashland under supervision of Fr. Henry Willenborg, OFM.
There have been lots of lessons along the way.
"There are poor everywhere," he said. "The Franciscan way is to help people. Never forget the outcasts -- the people in the bottom of society."
He has never forgotten another Franciscan "way."
"How do we forgive?" he said. "To live by Jesus' example: mercy. If we live in resentment we are not happy."
© Superior Catholic Herald, 2008