Brother in Need
Kidney donation between seminarians is proof of faith in action
by Emily Stimpson
MOSAIC, Fall 2007

Adalberto Espinoza, left, is grateful for receiving a kidney from fellow seminarian Tim Renz, right.

May 16, 2007. Classes were completed. Finals finished. And Sacred Heart's seminarians were packing their bags, looking forward to visits home.

At least, most of them were. More than a few, however, had put off packing up and were instead sitting in a waiting room at William Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, Michigan.

While they waited, they prayed. They prayed for their fellow seminarian Adalberto Espinoza, who would receive a new kidney that day. And they prayed for another fellow seminarian, Timothy Renz, who would give Adalberto that kidney.

The journey that brought the young men to the waiting room began nine months earlier. Upon returning to Sacred Heart in August 2006, the seminarians learned that Adalberto, then a second-year theology student originally from Mexico, had battled dizziness and nausea all summer. A week before classes, he went into the hospital. The diagnosis was kidney failure.

Although seminary administrators knew Adalberto suffered from kidney disease—he told them even before applying—no one, least of all Adalberto, expected his kidneys to fail so soon. He would have to begin dialysis immediately, waiting months, possibly even years, for a kidney transplant. Suddenly, Adalberto's vocation to the priesthood seemed in jeopardy.

Aside from the practical obstacle of going through hours of dialysis each week—hours that were assigned, not chosen, and therefore likely to conflict with Adalberto's class schedule—there was also the question of his own strength. Would he have the energy to continue with the demanding academic program?

"I was very upset in the beginning," Adalberto recalls. "I kept going to God and saying 'I want to be a priest, but this kidney is not going to let me.'"

When he received his class schedule and his dialysis schedule, however, and no conflicts existed, Adalberto took it as a sign that God wanted him to keep going. Beginning in September, three days a week, for up to four hours at a time, he packed up his laptop and books, and headed off to the dialysis clinic. There, he divided his time between studying, praying and talking with the nurses, doctors and other patients.

"I felt like I was doing ministry," Adalberto says. "I'd pray and talk about theology. I came to believe very strongly that God put me in that place for a reason and that's where I was supposed to be."

Meanwhile, back at Sacred Heart, the word spread about Adalberto's condition. A number of students and faculty began asking what the requirements for donating a kidney were. Ten of those men, including one priest, eventually were tested to see if their kidneys were possible matches for Adalberto. One of those men was Tim Renz.

The idea of getting tested first occurred to Tim, then a second-year philosophy student from Jefferson, Wisconsin, one morning over breakfast with Adalberto.

"We'd gone out to eat after Mass and were talking about how he was doing," explains Tim. "I found out he needed a transplant and immediately I volunteered to get tested. I made the decision before I thought about it."

Three weeks later, Adalberto was sitting in the seminarian's lounge when Tim came rushing in. He had just heard from the hospital. He was a match.

"I was so full of joy to tell him, 'You're going to get a kidney,'" Tim remembers. "And a little bit anxious at the thought of getting cut open."

Adalberto's feelings were also mixed. He was thrilled to hear the news. But at the same time he was reluctant to accept the gift.

"I kept thinking, 'I don't deserve this,'" he says. "I thought I should wait for a kidney to come from the list. But then I realized God was talking to me through these people who'd been stepping forward to get tested, saying 'I want to do this for you.'

"When Tim came up as the match, I accepted the gift, but I was more worried about him not having a kidney for the rest of his life than I was excited about getting one."

Over the next several months, Adalberto and Tim went through batteries of tests and a seemingly endless series of meetings and appointments with doctors. Tim also broke the news to his parents, who, while not exactly thrilled with their son's decision, were nonetheless proud and supportive. Then, shortly after finishing up their finals for the semester, both packed their bags and checked in to Beaumont.

On the eve of the transplant, both men prayed the same prayers they had for the past several months. They prayed for each other, they prayed for strength, and they prayed that God would use their sufferings for the special intentions they'd made known to him, including Adalberto's mother, who was ill and couldn't make the trip, and Tim's brother, who possibly had cancer.

Before going in to surgery, Mass was celebrated and the men received the Anointing of the Sick. They also were surrounded by letters and cards from family and friends, and had certain knowledge that all those people, including their fellow seminarians, would pray for them throughout the long surgery. Right before the nurses separated the two for pre-op procedures, Adalberto hugged Tim and thanked him.

Three days later, they saw each other again when the hospital staff brought Tim down to Adalberto's room. The operation had been successful and both were recovering much faster than expected. Within weeks, they were not only out of the hospital, but working at their summer parish assignments.

Now, as the two men begin a new semester at Sacred Heart, they're more eager than ever to respond to God's call to the priesthood, both changed by sacrifice and suffering.

"This was a spiritual journey for me," says Adalberto. "I learned so much. Especially about compassion. You see things differently when you're the one in the bed, needing care. That's helped me understand better the kind of priest I want to be."

"Becoming a priest is giving myself completely to God," adds Tim. "And I've learned that means giving myself completely to his people. This was one concrete way I could do that."