Fr. Peter Linh Nguyen
There are people who enter our lives like rays of warm sunlight on cold winter days, and even long after they have departed, that light continues to warm and guide us. The Late Bishop Peter Nguyen Van Nho was precisely such an extraordinary individual—a shepherd whom thousands of people across the world still quietly call “Father,” filled with deep love and gratitude.
The Image of a Simple Father
Bishop Nho was not one for flowery speeches or ceremonial gestures, nor did he boast of his profound scholarship. Instead, those fortunate enough to have met Bishop Nho vividly recall the image of a man whose remarkable simplicity was almost astonishing. He spoke gently, like a father conversing with his children gathered around the family dinner table.
What was miraculous was that within those plain words lay profound wisdom, which his spiritual children would come to fully appreciate only years later. He would ask about the health of your banana garden, the condition of your cattle, or whether your work was going smoothly, using the same caring tone as when he inquired about your prayer life or spiritual journey.
This was what made him truly special—he understood that human beings cannot separate their material existence from their spiritual lives. A true shepherd must accompany his flock through every facet of life, from worries about food and clothing to the loftiest spiritual aspirations.
The Journey from Rome to His Homeland
The story of Bishop Nho begins with his years of study at the prestigious Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, where he completed his doctorate in theology. He then returned to his homeland with a humble heart, ready to dedicate himself to whatever work the diocese required.
He devoted many precious years to educational work, first serving as the Rector of the Minor Seminary and later of the Major Seminary of Sao Bien (Star of the Sea) in the Diocese of Nha Trang. This was not merely routine teaching; it was a unique mission of nurturing young souls destined to become the future shepherds of the Church.
During these formative years, he discovered his extraordinary gift: the ability to recognize the seeds of vocations in ordinary children and to nurture those seeds with boundless love and patience.
A Fateful Day in 1979
Then came 1979—a historical event that completely transformed Bishop Nho’s life while opening a new chapter filled with blessings for a small community. The government’s policy of nationalizing religious centers led to the confiscation of the Sao Bien Seminary in Nha Trang. In this challenging situation, Father Nho, as the Rector of the Major Seminary of Sao Bien, along with seven seminarians, was transferred to what seemed like an unfamiliar place: Ha Dua Parish.
At that time, Ha Dua Parish was merely a small community in Truong Thanh hamlet, Dien Thanh commune, Dien Khanh district. This area featured lush green rice fields, winding dirt roads, simple thatched-roof houses, and honest, gentle people living in harmony with the rhythm of nature.
Who could have imagined that the presence of a seminary Rector, equipped with resources and a dedicated team, would transform this modest village into a brilliant educational and spiritual center? This was not merely an arrangement dictated by circumstance but a plan of Divine Providence—a great blessing that the Ha Dua community would cherish in the years to come.
Piano Afternoons and Children’s Laughter
If you had visited Ha Dua Parish during the mornings or afternoons of the 1980s and 1990s, you would have heard the most wonderful sounds: the resonant music of the piano emanating from the church or rectory—sometimes melodious classical pieces, sometimes the clumsy notes from still-learning hands. There, you would have found Father Nho sitting quietly, his kind face displaying not a trace of annoyance.
That was Bishop Nho with his young students. He had asked the seminarians to teach music to the children, and the rectory doors were always wide open for those eager to learn. It didn’t matter whether a child played well or poorly; he loved and encouraged them all equally.
I was one of those fortunate students, blessed to learn under his guidance. I had no particular musical talent, but perhaps my eagerness to learn endeared me to him. He never showed any sign of weariness when hearing our practice sessions, whether morning or afternoon, in the church or rectory.
Moreover, he had a unique gift for opening children’s minds to knowledge. He lent us books and newspapers to read, even personally covering them with cement paper for protection. What he truly cared about was not whether we finished every book, but whether we developed the habit of reading to broaden our understanding.
The Black-and-White Television and Memorable Evenings
In the 1980s rural Vietnam, owning a television was nearly rare. The entire village of Ha Dua had just one black-and-white television set, located in the rectory. Every evening, as programs began broadcasting, a large crowd of children from the village would rush to the rectory.
Bishop Nho understood that allowing children to connect with the outside world through television was not merely for entertainment; it was also an educational opportunity, helping them expand their perspectives on the vast world beyond our small village.
Those evenings, the sound of the television mixed with the lively chatter and laughter of children, creating a warm atmosphere akin to an extended family gathering. In those moments, Bishop Nho was not a stern clergyman, but simply a father watching television with his children.
The Revolution of Grapes and Chinese Apples
But Bishop Nho’s concerns extended beyond education; he also worried about the economic well-being of the entire community. At that time, Ha Dua village relied on rice farming from a few small plots, leading to a life that was quite challenging and monotonous.
With a far-sighted vision and a spirit of bold reform, he initiated a small “revolution” in the village: a movement to grow grapes and produce grape wine. This was a completely novel idea for the local people, who had never imagined that their land could yield such crops.
Remarkably, his project was a spectacular success. Ha Dua grape wine was not only enjoyed within the village but also reached markets far beyond, even as far as Nha Trang. The people of Ha Dua had found a new and stable source of income in addition to rice cultivation.
However, when the grape vines began to suffer from fungal diseases and yields declined, he quickly adapted, turning to another crop: Chinese apples. This flexibility and adaptability enabled the community not only to avoid decline but to continue thriving.
The story of grapes and Chinese apples was not merely about economics; it illustrated a philosophy of life: never surrendering to difficulties, always seeking new solutions, and, most importantly, caring for the lives of those around us.
The Story of Budding Vocations
Among Bishop Nho’s many contributions in Ha Dua village, perhaps the most meaningful was his ability to discover and nurture budding priestly vocations. He possessed a special talent for recognizing children with potential to become shepherds, and more importantly, he knew how to cultivate those seeds with love and patience.
After spending some time in Ha Dua, he began to establish seminarian groups at various churches. The seminarian group of Ha Dua Parish alone already had several dozen members. However, the priestly vocations stemming from Bishop Nho have yielded priestly fruits for Ha Dua Parish: Father Nguyen Huu Thi, Father Nguyen Trung Hoa, myself, Father Phan Duc Quoc Khai, Father Tran Quoc Phong, Father Nguyen Xuan Thoai, and several other Fathers who later studied at the Major Seminary of Sao Bien.
I still vividly remember that fateful afternoon when I was thirteen years old. Bishop Nho called me over and posed a simple yet transformative question: “Do you intend to become a priest?” He then shared a story about the special connection between my father and himself.
“Your father and I were once seminarians together at Lang Song, Quy Nhon,” he said gently. “Your father was two classes ahead of me, but later he left the seminary and married your mother.” Then he added a sentence that remains etched in my memory: “If your father could not complete his calling to become a priest, then you should continue and fulfill that mission.”
In that moment, he planted the seed of vocation in my heart—a simple sharing of a story that allowed the Holy Spirit to work within me.
Journey Across the Ocean
In 1993, my family was granted refugee status by the U.S. government under the HO program, and we settled in Cincinnati, Ohio. My father, an officer in the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, had died in a reeducation camp, leaving us to start a new life in a foreign land.
For a young man of twenty-four, adapting to a new environment, language, and culture was challenging. The priestly vocation that Bishop Nho had planted in my heart began to waver amidst these overwhelming changes.
I went to college, entered the workforce, and attempted to integrate into American life like many other refugees. Yet, the seed that Father Nho had planted in me at thirteen continued to silently germinate, grow, and remind me of the mission he had entrusted to me.
Then, one day, something miraculous occurred. During a visit to his sister’s family in Chicago, Bishop Nho and Father Mai Hua made a special trip to Cincinnati to visit the former parishioners of Ha Dua. This meeting felt like a miracle, reigniting the flame of vocation within me once more.
His love and care transcended geographical distance and the passage of time. Despite the thousands of miles that separated us and the changes life had brought, he remained the spiritual father watching over and praying for each of his children.
In 2000, I finally decided to enter Mount Saint Mary Seminary in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati. After six years of study and formation, I was ordained a priest in 2006, completing the mission that Bishop Nho had entrusted to me when I was just a thirteen-year-old boy.
Love for Scripture and Golden Words
One afternoon, I will never forget, I stood somewhat aimlessly near Bishop Nho as he prayed in the Ha Dua rectory. Seeing me, he called me over and shared something simple yet powerful: “In my whole life, I have only loved Scripture; I read it and live by what God teaches.”
This seemingly straightforward statement became the guiding principle for my entire life. It not only reflected Bishop Nho’s philosophy but also inspired me to pursue biblical studies throughout my seminary education. Ultimately, I graduated with a Master’s degree in Biblical Theology, fulfilling the dream he had awakened in me as a child.
His influence did not end with me; many other priests, his spiritual children, achieved advanced degrees through his encouragement and guidance. A recent example is Father Landry in France, who completed his doctorate in Rome.
Golden Words of Advice
Bishop Nho was not only a gifted educator but also a wise man with profound life philosophies. One piece of advice from him that I still apply in all circumstances is: “In your life, do not complicate simple problems, and simplify complex problems.”
This statement holds a practical philosophy for living. In life, we often tend to overthink things that are inherently simple, making them unnecessarily complex. Conversely, with truly complex problems, we must find ways to analyze and simplify them to solve them effectively.
His episcopal motto—”Gentle and Humble”—also became the guiding principle for how I live and conduct myself. Throughout my years of priestly ministry, I have witnessed that God truly works most powerfully in those who possess gentle and humble hearts.
A Living Example That Endures
On May 21, 2003, Bishop Nho went to be with the Lord, but his influence continues to spread throughout the world. Each year on his memorial day, hundreds of priests—his spiritual children—offer Memorial Masses not only in Vietnam but in many places around the globe.
His tomb at the Mountain Church in Nha trang is a place where the faithful come to pray and seek intercession. Many have received graces through his intercession, and his tomb is often adorned with panels of gratitude and floral tributes.
As a priest serving an American and Mexican community in the United States, Bishop Nho remains a figure I turn to in times of difficulty. Having experienced numerous trials in life, he understands the challenges his spiritual children face. Time and again, I have felt his support when situations that seemed impossible to resolve were miraculously untangled.
An Immortal Legacy
Twenty-two years have passed since Bishop Nho departed this life, but what he left behind is not merely beautiful memories. It is a way of life, an educational philosophy, and especially a boundless love for humanity.
He demonstrated that true greatness does not lie in ostentation or grandeur, but in the ability to touch people’s hearts. From the children learning piano in the small church at Ha Dua to priests serving across five continents, all feel his love and care.
In today’s world, where positive role models and authentic leaders are scarce, the life and work of the Late Bishop Peter Nguyen Van Nho remain a treasured source of inspiration. He reminds us that to become someone who positively influences others, we do not need to perform great or famous deeds. Sometimes, just a timely word, a small but sincere action, or simply listening to and caring for others can change a life forever.
Though Bishop Nho has departed, what he planted continues to flourish and bear fruit. In the hearts of thousands of spiritual children around the world, he remains the kind and wise father, always ready to listen and share. Perhaps this is the most beautiful form of immortality a person can achieve: to live forever in the love and gratitude of those whose lives they have touched.
FR. LINH N. NGUYEN
Pastor Saint Rose of Lima Church
3600 Brinkman St.
Houston, TX 77018