Seattle Archdiocese Priest Assignments 2016

“They’re an interesting mix of personalities,” said Father Bryan Dolejsi, director of vocations, with “a diversity of different gifts and backgrounds.”

But they have some important things in common.

“All four of them have had very powerful experiences of the risen Christ,” Father Dolejsi said. “All four of them, their motivation is to really love God and love God’s people.”

And “all four of them have a heart of service — they want to really give of themselves for God’s people and help the church grow.”

The ordination Mass will be celebrated at 10 a.m. on Saturday, June 3, at St. James Cathedral. To see photos and video from the event, visit To learn more about vocations to the priesthood or religious life, visit

Chad Green. Photo: Stephen Brashear / At Cape Kiwanda in Pacific City, Oregon, in 2015. Photo: Courtesy Deacon Chad Green

Chad Stuart Green

Born: April 24, 1976, in Bellevue

Home parish: Baptized at St. Vincent de Paul, Federal Way; raised mostly at St. Theresa, Federal Way; as an adult, Blessed Sacrament, Seattle

Seminary: St. Patrick’s (Menlo Park, California), Theological College (Washington, D.C.) and Mount Angel (St. Benedict, Oregon)

Favorite field of study: I appreciated how all the fields are interconnected and build on one another. One particular topic that interests me is the relationship of theology to integral ecology, as presented in Pope Francis’ encyclical Laudato Si’.

Favorite saint: St. Andre Bessette. The rector of my residence hall at Notre Dame told us to “remember that a future saint used to stay here in this building.” That was Brother Andre Bessette, from Montreal, who stayed there several times when he visited his Holy Cross brothers in Indiana in the early 1900s. Living there for three years made me feel a bond with Brother Andre, and I began to learn more about his life.

Hobbies: Reading classic novels and watching and playing sports, especially soccer and tennis.

Appointment: Holy Family, Kirkland

Chad Green grew up the second of three kids in a Massgoing suburban family. After graduating from public high school, he spent two years at the University of Washington, then transferred to Notre Dame.

“Something about it just drew me,” he said. “Maybe Mary’s intercession or influence.” Being in a place where the faith was integrated into everyday life, where most of his friends were Catholic and Mass was celebrated in his dorm, was “a very powerful experience,” he said.

He studied civil engineering and sociology, then got a master’s in civil engineering at Stanford. Returning to Seattle in 2001, he was excited to be designing buildings downtown, but he struggled to find the kind of Catholic community he’d had in college. That changed when he joined the young adult choir at Blessed Sacrament Parish in Seattle, which became “a very tight group of friends.”

As his career and faith life blossomed, he hoped he’d meet someone and get married. But people kept asking him, “Oh, have you thought about priesthood?” As he got more involved at church, he became more open to the idea.

A turning point came in 2005 as he watched the TV coverage around the death of Pope John Paul II, especially the images of him as a young priest hiking and ministering to couples. “Something in my heart just said, ‘I wonder if I could be a priest like that.’”

After entering seminary in 2007, he withdrew twice, in 2011 and 2013, feeling “loneliness and confusion and lack of clarity.” But he was struck by God’s persistence in calling him back toward the priesthood.

“I thought that the loneliness was a sign that I was in the wrong place,” he said, but eventually he realized loneliness is part of every life. While on retreat in 2014, he came to understand that “God was with me in the loneliness, and then I didn’t feel alone in my loneliness anymore.”

Since returning to seminary in 2015, he’s felt at peace and eager to serve as a priest in the Archdiocese of Seattle. “Being a priest, you get to be in a lot of people’s lives in really special ways.”

Christopher Hoiland. Photo: Stephen Brashear / Playing goalie at Mount Angel in 2016. Photo: Conor Baer

Christopher Andrew Hoiland

Born: Feb. 14, 1986, in Kent

Home parish: Our Lady of Lourdes, Vancouver

Seminary: St. Patrick’s (Menlo Park, California) and Mount Angel (St. Benedict, Oregon)

Favorite field of study: Moral theology, because it helps us understand why the church teaches what she does, and it helps us navigate the many moral issues that our society deals with.

Favorite saint: Pope St. John Paul II, because of his joyful proclamation and living out of the Gospel. When one looks at him, one knows that they are looking at a holy man.

Hobbies: Hiking, backpacking, soccer, baseball, football and golf.

Appointment: St. Mary Magdalen, Everett

Faith wasn’t a huge part of Chris Hoiland’s childhood — he was more occupied with riding his bike and playing sports with his friends. “The faith was something that I did on Sundays, and that was about it,” he said.

When he got confirmed at 17, he stopped going to Mass. The summer after he graduated from high school, an older friend who was helping out with the parish youth group kept inviting him back. Hoiland told him, “I’m too old, I don’t do that anymore,” but eventually he gave in and went to an event.

“I felt a little awkward, but I couldn’t help feeling, when I left, like I wanted to go back the next week,” he said. “I knew there was something there. … There was this joy that they had that I hadn’t experienced in a while.”

He began attending regularly, then became a volunteer leader. “That’s where my conversion really happened,” he said. “Once I started to help out with that ministry, it gave me a peace, it gave me a direction, it gave me something to give myself to.”

One summer he was helping out at a Catholic camp in Oregon, and one of the chaplains asked if he’d thought about the priesthood. He hadn’t. “I always thought I would go to the University of Oregon and get a business degree and follow in my dad’s footsteps,” he said.

He prayed about the priesthood and initially concluded: “This is not for me. God’s not calling me.” But the idea kept coming back.

“Every once in a while I would get this feeling like: I think I really want to be a priest. And as much as I would try to hide from it, as much as I would try to run away from it, it never left me,” he said.

“I’d be praying one time and imagine myself as a priest up on the altar celebrating the Eucharist. I’d be praying one time and I’d think about how many opportunities priests have to minister to people and … how much good priests bring to the world, and I just felt like I wanted to be a part of that.”

After graduating from St. Martin’s University in 2011, he entered seminary, which has been a challenge, a blessing and “a wild ride,” he said.

“I’m beside myself that I’m going to be ordained a priest,” he said. “This is so much bigger than something I could ask for, and it’s going to be gifted to me, and it’s just incredible — being invited into so many people’s lives at such privileged moments.” 

Jeffrey Moore. Photo: Stephen Brashear / Playing an ancient Roman board game in Jerusalem in 2016. Photo: Deacon Andrew Marr

Jeffrey Hearron Moore

Born: July 18, 1988, in Lewisville, Texas

Home parish: St. Bernadette, Burien

Seminary: Mount Angel (St. Benedict, Oregon) and Mundelein (Mundelein, Illinois)

Favorite field of study: Canon law and church history. Canon law because my original field of study was engineering, which is very practical and concrete, and canon law takes the theology of the church and makes it very practical and concrete. Church history because there are so many lies about the history of the church that float around in society, and it is good to know the whole story.

Favorite saint: St. Francis de Sales. He is the most merciful and practical saint I have ever read. He helps people find God in their current situation.

Hobbies: Board games (Dominion, Seven Wonders, Power Grid, etc.) and video games (Civilization, Tomb Raider, etc.).

Appointment: Immaculate Conception, Mount Vernon; St. Charles, Burlington; St. Catherine Mission, Concrete; Sacred Heart, La Conner; Immaculate Heart of Mary, Sedro-Woolley

Growing up in Texas, Jeffrey Moore was baptized Presbyterian but went to church only occasionally. When he was 9, his parents divorced, and he moved to Seattle with his sister and Catholic mother. He started attending St. Bernadette School, enjoyed his religion classes, and decided it would be “very logical” to become Catholic, which he did in 1999.

While at Kennedy High School, he researched the reasons behind the church’s teachings, which gave him the conviction he needed to stay Catholic through college. A self-proclaimed “huge nerd” — he was Kennedy’s valedictorian and aced the SAT — he decided to attend Olin College, a tiny, super-selective engineering school outside of Boston.

His classmates there enjoyed debating hot-button issues, and Moore “spent a lot of time arguing for the faith,” he said. “In high school I was the smart kid; in college I was the Catholic kid.”

During his junior year, he attended a charismatic retreat and had a startlingly powerful experience of God’s presence. For the next six months, prayer came spontaneously, like talking with a friend. He even found himself “daydreaming about God during class, which was very odd.”

In the midst of that, “God put on my heart that I had been making excuses not to look at the priesthood,” he said. “I was very surprised, because I never thought that I would be called to the priesthood.”

He interpreted it as “a test of faith.” He figured he’d do his due diligence — talk to a vocations director, go on a discernment retreat — and then move on, probably toward law school.  

“The problem is that as I began to think about priesthood and open myself to that idea for the first time, it became attractive,” he said.

The summer before his senior year, sitting with his laptop on the floor of his apartment, he faced a moment of truth: register to take the LSAT, or email the vocations director in Seattle?

“I realized that if I didn’t go to seminary I would always wonder ‘what if,’ but if I didn’t go to law school and the priesthood thing worked out, I would never look back.”

Eight years later, he’s looking forward to the “thrill” of serving in parishes full time. “I’m so excited to finally just be with people and to do the work, to do the priestly work,” he said. “That’s going to be a huge blessing.”

Colin Parrish. Photo: Courtesy Deacon Colin Parrish / At the Mundelein boathouse in 2016. Photo: Rose Tomassi

Colin Stephens Parrish

Born: Jan. 7, 1985, in Seattle

Home parish: Blessed Sacrament, Seattle

Seminary: Bishop White (Spokane) and Mundelein (Mundelein, Illinois)

Favorite field of study: Theological anthropology. The study of what God has revealed about the human person really dovetails with my interests in philosophy. 

Favorite saint: St. Thérèse of Lisieux. She was an intense personality who had a great desire, and this, despite her romantic or syrupy language, is something that I am inspired by. 

Hobbies: Hiking, drawing, going to concerts, Wiffle ball. 

Appointment: St. Luke, Shoreline; Bishop Blanchet High School, Seattle

Colin Parrish grew up in a basically secular family, but his parents sent him to Catholic schools for the education. Attending school Masses and Stations of the Cross at St. Catherine of Siena in Seattle made a deep impression on him.

At O’Dea High School, he played varsity soccer for three years, then quit his senior year. “I was just really depressed and upset with my own life,” he said. “No one gave me a reason for living.”

The prevailing ethos of consumerism and the American Dream utterly failed to satisfy his desire for something deeper, and he was “seething with anger.”

“The hardcore punk scene was helpful,” he said, as a “stabilizing influence.”

He also entered RCIA that year. “There was this vague sense of a need for quote-unquote religion, whatever that means,” he said. “I was looking for an identity.”

He became Catholic at Easter 2003, “barely” graduated the next month, and left for the Navy.

Deployed in the Pacific on the USS Abraham Lincoln and despairing over the meaning of his life, he started talking with a Catholic priest onboard, Father Norbert Karava.

“I was just blown away by this guy … by how different he was and how lively he was,” he said. He came to realize “there was somebody else present, there was another love present” in this priest.

“And when I asked him about it, he goes, ‘Well, this is God, this is Jesus.’”

Parrish had “a really big conversion of heart,” and Father Karava started teaching him all the stuff he hadn’t paid attention to in RCIA. Eventually he asked if Parrish had ever thought about being a priest.

“And it just really clicked for me,” he said. “I just knew that this was the way that God wanted me to be happy.” He decided “to start orienting myself … toward the priesthood.”

After he got out of the Navy, in late 2008, he got connected with Communion and Liberation, a lay movement that meets at Blessed Sacrament Church in Seattle.

“They really helped me understand the depths of human desire, and that nothing in this life can really answer the human heart — that basically the human heart is … greater than the whole world, and so only God can answer the desire of the human heart.”

Parrish entered seminary in 2009. An important moment in his formation came in 2014, when he attended a summer spirituality program at the Institute for Priestly Formation in Nebraska, which taught him “how to pray deeply, how to really foster this relationship with Christ,” he said.

As a priest, he’s looking forward to celebrating Mass, preaching, teaching, hearing confessions and helping people discover that “Christ can make them alive.”

This story originally ran in Northwest Catholic's June 2017 print edition under the title "Hearts of service."

The secret files on the Rev. Michael Cody show how the Seattle Catholic Archdiocese moved him from parish to parish, even after knowing he was a sick and dangerous pedophile.

They described his “deviant behavior,” recorded his “abnormal attraction toward young girls,” even warned “he will either blow his brains out or cause a major scandal in the parish.”

In letter after letter, supervising priests, the auxiliary bishop, even a noted psychiatrist alerted Seattle Archbishop Thomas Connolly that the Rev. Michael Cody was a sick and dangerous pedophile who posed grave threats to children and others in the Western Washington parishes he served during the 1960s.

“It is my diagnosis that he is suffering from a form of sexual deviation (Pedophilia) …,” Dr. Albert Hurley wrote in a letter to Connolly in March 1962. “It is my recommendation that he be removed from parish work as soon as possible.”

But instead of notifying police or removing Cody from his duties, Connolly’s response largely was to move him to unsuspecting parishes. First, within Seattle. Then, to Auburn. And finally, to Skagit and Whatcom counties, where Cody oversaw four different churches and a school into the mid-1970s.

When it placed him in Skagit County, the archdiocese provided Cody an isolated home where the unsupervised priest regularly brought youngsters, records and interviews show. All the while, he continued to prey on children.

The disturbing details about the archdiocese’s facilitation of the priest’s pedophilia are documented in internal correspondence, performance reviews and other records contained within what’s known as Cody’s “secret file.”

Portions of his decades-old file surfaced publicly last year in case filings for a lawsuit brought against the archdiocese by a Sedro-Woolley woman who, as a teenager, was sexually abused by Cody for two years.

Based on a consultant’s review of such secret files, the Seattle Archdiocese in January published a list identifying 77 clergy members who lived or worked in Western Washington and are known or believed to have sexually abused children.

When publicizing the list, Seattle Archbishop Peter Sartain said in a statement he took the action “in the interest of further transparency and accountability,” but church officials offered no details about abuse incidents.

Since then, victims advocates, attorneys, even some prominent Catholics have called on Sartain to release the archdiocese’s secret files.

Archdiocese spokesman Greg Magnoni did not directly respond to questions about whether Sartain plans to disclose any files. In an email Friday, Magnoni said “we will continue to review our practices and protocols, including the published list, to determine if additional steps can be taken that will restore trust and promote healing.”

Secret archives on accused priests, which Roman Catholic Canon law directs bishops to keep under lock and key, can often detail a diocese’s wider, hidden complicity in clergy sexual abuse dating back decades, those familiar with such records say.

“These records illustrate a pattern of secrecy,” said Mary Dispenza, Northwest director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests, and herself a victim of clergy abuse. “Most bishops are still dragging their feet about releasing them because they’ll be embarrassed or ashamed, and past bishops might be implicated.”

Criminal investigations, lawsuits and legal settlements have forced public disclosure of large portions of confidential archives in “a couple dozen” of the more than 170 Catholic dioceses nationwide, said Terry McKiernan, president of the research group, which is dedicated to tracking clergy abuse.

Cody’s secret file demonstrates the Seattle Archdiocese enabled his abuse for years. As late as 1988, Seattle Archdiocese officials were still trying to assess whether the retired priest posed threats in another state.

Exactly how many children he victimized “would only be a guess,” a then-82-year-old Cody said during a 2013 deposition. In 1988, Cody told mental-health evaluators in Florida that over 20 years, he’d sexually abused 20 to 40 girls between 8 and 12 years old, and one boy.

At least 10 known and alleged victims have claimed in lawsuits in Washington that Cody abused them years after Connolly and others knew the priest was a pedophile. The archdiocese has settled one case and faces trial in five others.

The archdiocese’s hand in Cody’s misdeeds might still be secret if Jeri Hubbard hadn’t broken her silence.

“Second to God”

Hubbard was a troubled 16-year-old runaway when her parents entrusted her to the care of a charismatic pastor at the St. Charles Parish in Burlington, Skagit County, in 1968.

Cody, in turn, groomed the physically immature teen for a sexual relationship that lasted two years.

“At a time when I didn’t feel special, he befriended me and made me feel special,” Hubbard, 63, said during an interview last week. “Instinctively, I kind of knew it wasn’t right. But I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”

The oldest of 12 children, the teenage Hubbard found refuge from a chaotic family life by walking to church to visit the 37-year-old priest. Hubbard’s father, retired from the Navy and a devout Catholic, agreed to let his daughter live at Cody’s rectory on rural Peterson Road.

“Father Cody was a godsend to me,” Hubbard’s father recalled in a June 2014 deposition. “I felt that the priest was second to God.”

At the home they shared for about a year, Cody plied Hubbard with wine, and sex became routine.

“What he had convinced me of was that God had made him a man first before he made him a priest, and that men have needs,” Hubbard recalled.

When Hubbard later became uncomfortable with their relationship, Cody “told me that I was an incorrigible child, that nobody would believe me over him. He was their priest and that they would always believe him first.”

Ashamed and afraid people would blame her, Hubbard kept silent about Cody for more than four decades. She suffered deep emotional trauma, marked by alcoholism, anxiety attacks, flashbacks, nightmares and suicide attempts.

In 2012, a friend who witnessed Hubbard paralyzed by a panic attack during a 12-step meeting arranged a surprise consultation between Hubbard and Mount Vernon attorney John Murphy. Hubbard reluctantly told her story.

Attorneys Michael Pfau of Seattle and Rand Jack of Bellingham joined the team, and Hubbard sued. As the case progressed, Hubbard learned about a confidential file kept on Cody.

“I was pissed,” she said. “The church knew he was a pedophile years before he ever came to Burlington. And they let that happen.”

Letters of alarm

The contents of Cody’s file provided a damning narrative that made Hubbard’s case.

By early 1962, just a few years into Cody’s career, the records show he told a psychiatrist about his perverse urges.

Dr. Hurley later informed Archbishop Connolly in a March 19, 1962, letter that Cody had “molested at least eight girls 12 years of age or younger.”

“He has sexual impulses which he fights against consciously and is unable to control voluntarily,” Hurley wrote.

Ten days later, Cody’s supervising priest at the Holy Family Parish in Seattle also warned Connolly that Cody was “mentally and emotionally sick.” In his letter, the Rev. Ailbe McGrath used Latin to cloak descriptions of Cody’s deviancy, referencing a violation of Catholicism’s Sixth Commandment: “Thou Shall Not Commit Adultery.”

“His de sexto abnormalities (which I will not mention here) may cause a major scandal in this parish, and if discovered, may result in a penitentiary sentence at Walla Walla,” McGrath wrote.

Less than two months later, McGrath wrote Connolly again, “urgently requesting” Cody be removed from the parish.

“I do not want a murder, a suicide, or a de sexto crime of violence in this rectory or in this parish,” McGrath wrote in the May 14, 1962, letter. “… When I read in the daily papers of crimes of murder and rape, I begin to wonder if Father Cody is involved.”

Three days later, Connolly responded that Cody would be sent to the Institute of Living, a psychiatric hospital in Connecticut.

“Personally, I do not hold out any great hopes for his improvement or that he will ever reassume his priestly career,” Connolly wrote.

Cody had been at the hospital for 10 months when a psychiatrist recommended in March 1963 that upon the priest’s return to Seattle, Connolly assign him to a position away from parishioners due to his mental state.

But when Cody returned in May 1963, Connolly put him to work as an assistant pastor at St. James Cathedral, and his problems resurfaced.

“It is not that he is not trying,” Bishop Thomas Gill wrote to Connolly, then in Rome, in October 1963. “There are manifest signs of deterioration in his mental health.”

For the next four and a half years, Gill supervised Cody and wrote annual reports about his work to Connolly, describing the priest’s problems. “The man is sick,” Gill wrote in a 1965 report. “ … While of superior intellectual capacity, he suffers from emotional states that make him unusable as an assistant.”

In September 1967, the archdiocese reassigned Cody to the Holy Family Parish in Auburn. Within three months, its pastor complained to Connolly about Cody’s “undue familiarity with the sixth and seventh grade girls.”

“His deviant behavior is a danger to the good of souls,” the Rev. John Duffy wrote in the December 1967 letter. “Before the people become involved in this priestly problem I consider it prudent to bring this matter to your attention.”

Nothing in Cody’s file indicates the priest received further mental-health treatment, behavioral monitoring or restrictions on his access to children, the archdiocese’s chancellor acknowledged in a deposition last year.

Six months after Duffy’s letter, the archdiocese moved Cody again — this time to Skagit County, where he would have no on-site supervision whatsoever.

Full story under wraps

From 1968 to 1972, Cody served as pastor of churches in La Conner, Burlington and on the Swinomish Indian Reservation.

Shortly after his arrival in Skagit County, the archdiocese also purchased the isolated rectory where Cody would live — and where he repeatedly abused Hubbard.

Last May, shortly after Hubbard took the witness stand to detail Cody’s abuse, the archdiocese settled her case for $1.2?million.

Before the trial, the archdiocese admitted negligence for “intentionally or recklessly” inflicting severe emotional damages on Hubbard by putting Cody in a position to abuse her. The admission prevented the secret records describing the archdiocese’s role in Cody’s abuse from being seen by a jury.

“I don’t think they wanted the jury to hear the full story, so they had to admit they acted both negligently and outrageously in order to keep out evidence regarding their fault,” Pfau said in a statement posted to his law firm’s website following the settlement.

After Hubbard sued, six more women accused Cody of abusing them as children while the priest served in Skagit County, and three people, including one man, claimed Cody abused them as kids while he served as pastor of Assumption Parish and School in Bellingham from 1972 to 1975. In all, the archdiocese nowfacesfivelawsuitsover Cody.

In 1975, after Connolly retired, new Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen brought Cody back to Seattle for an “in residence” assignment at St. Margaret Parish. He also arranged for Cody to be evaluated. Cody took a disability retirement and left Seattle in 1979.

He eventually moved to Florida and in 1988 helped with ministry in the Orlando Diocese. But Hunthausen declined to recommend Cody to that diocese’s leaders, and he paid for Cody to take another psychological evaluation.

During the exam, Cody admitted to victimizing up to 41 children and that he still fantasized about having sex with minors. Evaluators recommended Cody “not be allowed unsupervised contact with children.”

In 1989, Cody petitioned for laicization — or removal from the priesthood. The Catholic Church officially defrocked him in 2005.

Cody moved to Nevada in the 1990s to live with a brother. He volunteered at a national park. When lawyers deposed Cody for Hubbard’s case in 2013, he was still living there. Cody died at the age of 84, sometime after Hubbard’s trial last year.

In January, Cody’s name appeared on the archdiocese’s list of clergy offenders.

Without disclosing his or other offenders’ secret files, Hubbard calls the list meaningless.

“People should know the truth about what the church has done,” she said. “If they have nothing more to hide, then why aren’t they showing us?”

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