New deacons’ call includes special service to poor and Indigenous: Archbishop Miller 

Vancouver’s seven new permanent deacons were given specific instructions to show Jesus’ love for First Nations people before a packed ordination ceremony at Holy Rosary Cathedral.

“Make every effort to unite yourselves with the marginalized, and all men and women of goodwill, in working towards building what we most desperately need: a more just, fraternal and peaceful society,” Archbishop J. Michael Miller told the seven men at the June 1 ceremony, the first ordination of permanent deacons since 2021. 

“In our particular situation, where the pain caused the residential school system is still acute, I’m counting on you to play a vital role in working towards the healing and reconciliation so needed between Indigenous and non–Indigenous Peoples in our Church and in our country.”

The Archbishop emphasized that a deacon’s job is one of service “modelled on that of Jesus Christ.”

“Dear brothers about to be ordained,” he said, “be amazed and grateful for what the Lord is enabling you to do as a way to serve Him.”

Surrounded by nearly 700 friends and family members, Andre Coronado from Our Lady of Mercy in Burnaby, Don Guilles from St. Joseph’s in Langley, Moses Koh from Immaculate Conception in Delta, Tim Kostamo from Christ the Redeemer in West Vancouver, Marc O’Loughlin from Calgary, Rolly Sanares from St. Paul’s in Richmond, and Zak Santiago from Holy Rosary Cathedral became permanent deacons.

“In your journey to this day, you have been aided and accompanied by the encouragement of family and friends,” said the Archbishop. “The journey hasn’t been easy, but most of you undertook this challenge as a couple and found in your formation not only preparation for diaconal ministry but, I hope, also mutual enrichment for the continued living of your first and primary vocation, that of marriage.”

“This, then, has been a team effort, a family affair, and it will continue to be so, requiring still more generosity and sacrifice.”

Permanent deacons baptize, preside at marriages and funerals, visit the sick and dying, conduct prayer services, and act in many other roles.

“All that you do must be for the greater glory of God,” Archbishop Miller said. Taking on this challenge is a tall order.

“You’re being called to be ‘sacramental signs’ in the Church, sacramental signs that point to Christ the first deacon, that point to Christ the servant,” said the Archbishop.

“You can do it, but only if your service — in whatever concrete form it takes — begins at the altar, at the Eucharist, where you are nourished so as to bring Christ’s love to the world. Pope Francis has said, quite wisely, ‘When you serve at the table of the Eucharist, there you will find the presence of Jesus, who gives himself to you, so that you can give yourselves to others.’”

“More than ever, in what is called our post–modern world, the Church has a unique service to render to that world; that is, the service of truth. The Word of God is meant to disturb the false peace of many consciences.”

“Before our beautiful but broken world, the Word of God, dear brothers, is always to be proclaimed without compromise, without accommodation, without hesitation, without fear, and without calling attention to yourself if it is to bear the abundant fruit that the Lord wishes.”

Zak Santiago: ‘some of my friends think I am drinking the kool–aid’ by being religious 

When you think about the permanent diaconate, it’s easy to picture a successful, middle–aged man devoted to his wife and grown children, answering God’s call to find new purpose later in life.

That isn’t Zak Santiago — at least not the married part. 

The newly ordained deacon’s professional bio says it all. Santiago is a “modern day renaissance man, a Golden Gloves–winning boxer, popular nightclub and radio D.J., a classically trained musician, a flamenco and ballet dancer, a stuntman — and a talented actor.”

But that isn’t the whole story. Whether as a television actor or opening for mega-stars like the late Prince or rapper Ludacris, God has always been a source of comfort and connection for Santiago. “My faith always found me a home,” he told The B.C. Catholic. No matter what, “I was always in a Catholic church,” he said.

As one of six children born to immigrant parents, Santiago travelled across Canada as a child, following his father’s work for the federal government. Because of this, community and belonging are dear to him.

From a young age, his devout mother instilled in him that “God’s message of the kingdom is that we are all children of God,” he said. “My faith flourished on the idea of being a child of God.” She is also the source of his artistic ambitions. “I was in ballet and played classical piano,” he said. But most notably, his mother enrolled him in Ukrainian dance at the community center.

He says this was his first taste of real belonging. Regardless of his ethnic background, the other dancers embraced him. “As a mixed–race kid, I struggled to fit in,” he said. The classes showed him what a real sense of welcome and belonging could be, and ever since, he has felt a connection between art and community.

Unfortunately, tragedy dogged his steps as a young man. He was a boxer, and in his own words, he learned to “throw hands” on the street. A few rough scraps and the deaths of some close friends, including the love of his life — a devout woman who always told him God had great plans for him — made him reconsider the road he was travelling.

A few options presented themselves, and he spent time discerning holy orders, but ultimately, he didn’t feel God’s call. Instead, he found an acting agent and devoted himself to studying the thespian arts.

His DJ career began much more serendipitously. One night, while working as a nightclub promoter, he looked at the opening musicians he had hired, and it occurred to him that maybe he could do better. He got a loan, bought some turntables, and discovered he was a natural.

It hasn’t always been easy to integrate his faith with his work. “I work in worlds [Hollywood and nightclubs] where God’s voice doesn’t always get to,” he admits. “In some of the places I live and work, God’s voice gets drowned out by a lot of nonsense.”

“It’s important to be a humble representative of Christ in those places,” he said. Still, it’s a tricky balance and often becomes something of a “professional martyrdom.”

“I have lost work for being an affirming Christian — you know, wearing a crucifix, reposting something Pope Francis has said,” said Santiago. 

“I know it has cost me relationships in the film world — some of my friends think I am drinking the kool–aid” by being religious, he said. “You can see the lines being drawn.” 

Still, the call to witness is important to him, and when working as a DJ, he sometimes blends snippets of praise music into the mix and wears a lot of clothing with Christian messages. It’s often enough to start a conversation.

He is grateful for the other Catholics he has encountered while acting. Working with people like Mark Wahlberg or Harry Potter director Chris Columbus helps remind him that even in places with reputations for godlessness, Christian fellowship is still present.

His agent is also very proud of his upcoming ordination.

Surprisingly, Santiago says, “Hollywood spaces are more open to faith than nightclubs.” He believes actors are built differently. Because the work takes them away from home and family, they often have more time to talk, and Santiago says the work attracts unique people.

Actors have a unique job, he says. “If you are going sell something, even a child knows when something is fake — especially in dramatic moments.”

“It’s all about the word,” he said after quoting the opening to the Gospel of John. Much like a disciple, an actor needs to “bring the words to life” and connect with people.

“Acting can be dangerous and difficult,” said Santiago. “Those are real tears — your whole goal and training is to make that real.” Some actors get lost in the role (Heath Ledger’s death after playing the role of The Joker in The Dark Knight comes to mind) but it also opens the door for deep and spiritual experiences.

Regardless of rejection, he doesn’t shy away from speaking about his faith and regularly invites friends to Mass. Sometimes, they say no, but when they say yes, Santiago says the experience leaves an impression.

When Santiago eventually decided to discern becoming a deacon, he threw himself into the process with all the abandon of an actor preparing for a big role. Even before committing to the diaconate, he received a master’s degree in theological studies from St. Mark’s College at the University of British Columbia and is currently completing a master’s in pastoral studies. He works as a pastoral care worker at Vancouver General Hospital and has been active in the archdiocese’s prison ministry for many years.

While it is not unusual for a man in his 40s to consider a vocation as a deacon, they are usually married with a family. Santiago is not, and this made discernment more complicated.

Initially, when the Archdiocese opened its permanent diaconate program in 2011, he passed because it would require that he stay single. “I have nieces, nephews and godchildren — I like children, and I didn’t know if God wanted me to get married,” he said. The choice to remain unmarried was never intentional, but after losing his betrothed as a young man, he was never engaged again.

“After she was killed, I was never engaged,” he said. “I would talk to girls and date. I have had amazing girlfriends, always in a respectful way, with the opportunity to marry — but it was never out of pressure or need — only love.”

As he’s gotten older, his perspective has continued to evolve.

“I find Christ in all the people I work with — in the hospitals, in the prisons, in the clubs, on set — and in my family and friends; there is abundance. I am not solely looking for one single person to share my love.”

“I never feel alone,” he said. “I just trust God so much — I am just so sure of his love. I never need someone there. And I am never lacking for where to put my love — because I have him and his children.”

Santiago is most looking forward to preaching and continuing in the various ministries he is already committed to. Maybe he will get a PhD, he said, but ultimately, he is like all his brother deacons, who, when asked what they want to do after ordination, happily respond they will follow their bishop and the desires of the Holy Spirit.

Deacon Tim Kostamo: He received a simple piece of advice: “Just take a course.” 

God uses all things for good, even the dreaded midlife crisis. So says newly ordained permanent deacon, Dr. Tim Kostamo. “I had a restlessness in my heart,” he told The B.C. Catholic. “I had a midlife crisis.”

“I think God designed men to have a midlife crisis,” he said. “Everything becomes routine. Your work is established and routine. Your kids are growing up. God puts the restlessness in our hearts, but many men misinterpret that restlessness.”

“It’s a signal to you that there is a new call in your life.”

He remembers listening to an audiobook in which a reputable Texan lawyer was jailed under a false accusation of fraud. The man told his daughter that despite losing his reputation, money, and family, the thing he most regretted losing in prison was his diaconal ministry.

Kostamo was shocked. “I thought that’s insane,” he said. “What is this diaconate that is so important to him that he would regret losing it this much?”

This was the first time Kostamo considered the diaconate, but when he felt God’s call, he took the question to Msgr. Gregory Smith, his pastor and then–director of the archdiocese’s Permanent Diaconate office.

They were driving up to the Life Restoration Men’s Retreat when Kostamo asked Msgr. Smith about the ministry. “He’s been my confessor for 16 years, he knows me well,” said Kostamo.

After affirming he believed Kostamo’s gifts would suit the diaconate, Msgr. Smith gave him a simple piece of advice: “Just take a course.”

This was five years ago, and ironically, without COVID lockdowns, he might never have taken the advice.

Kostamo was busy balancing his family, his wife, and four children with his full–time work as a surgeon. “There was no way I could have driven out to UBC after a full day of work,” he said. But because of COVID, all the diaconal courses at St. Mark’s were moved to Zoom. He took one course and then another, and soon he applied for the program.

Perhaps it was a poetic flourish by God, but Kostamo’s late application to the program was accepted on his birthday, June 9, which he shares with the feast day of St. Ephram the Syrian, one of only three deacon saints celebrated in the Roman Calendar.

Almost immediately, challenges sprung up in his life. The coursework was arduous and put a strain on his family, and a close family member became very sick.

He remembers driving his kids to sports and other activities with theology lectures playing on the car stereo. “In the battle of darkness and light, the darkness pushed in,” he said. “But I am here, somewhat miraculously!”

He says he was surprised by the joy of the brotherhood he found with the other diaconate candidates.

“That was a real gift to me, they are just fantastic guys,” said Kostamo. “It’s very interesting to see how different their giftings are, but how well we meshed as group — I would do anything for these guys.”

When asked what he is most excited about, he says, “There is nothing that I am not excited about, is maybe the best way to answer that question!”

“I am excited to pray with people and to baptize,” he said. Because he’s a convert, he was “never an altar server, so being at the altar has been a great joy.”

But most of all, perhaps, he is excited to preach — it’s in his blood. Two of his great–grandfathers were preachers in Finland; his father was a missionary, and he remembers composing sermons in his head as a teenager. When he became a doctor, he put aside those impulses, but now that he is being ordained, Kostamo is delighted to find a purpose for that part of his life.

Ultimately, this journey has been a struggle and a joy for Kostamo, and he hopes that other middle–aged men will also consider the vocation. His message is simple. “If you are going through a period of restlessness in your life, bring that to the altar and say, ‘God, direct me,’” he said.

“Instead of putting it into leisure or hobbies (or a Lamborghini), ask where God wants you to put that energy. That is the most awesome spot.”

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