This remembrance of The Very Rev. Antonio Checo is an edited collage, composed of thoughts from St. Mark’s parishioners and Father Spencer Reece.
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Our loved ones had sayings — phrases or maxims we might remember and repeat in moments of self-doubt, or surprise, or when we wake from bad dreams, wondering who could understand the strange landscape we just exited. Father Antonio Checo, who left us on April 1, 2020 due to Covid-19, had several pet phrases, “Checoisms,” which are reflective of his kind countenance, empathetic soul, and devotion to God and his parishioners: “He was a good man,” Father would say, “Let your tears come out,” and “At the end what matters is the relationship one has with God.”

Well, Father Antonio Checo was himself a good man, one who spent his life helping others. Born in Santiago, the Dominican Republic on May 6, 1952, he earned a bachelor’s degree in social work there before moving to New York City in 1982. He earned a master’s in social work from Fordham University and then put his experience to use by working for the New York Department of Social Services for 18 years as a caseworker, social worker, supervisor, and director of Foster Care and Preventative Services.

In 2001, Father Checo joined the Red Cross and worked for the 9/11 Recovery Program. While helping New York heal, he began his seminary studies at the General Theological Seminary in Manhattan, earning a Master’s Degree in 2006. In 2007, he was ordained a deacon, and then a priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island, serving in different capacities before he became a part-time priest in charge of St. Mark’s and then our fourth full-time rector.

Father Checo’s years of social work informed his ministry. And, he revived St. Mark’s. Our parishioner, Liz Brennan, feels that he “was St. Mark’s savior. He had been with us through some very dark days when the very existence of our parish was in question. He came among us as our Priest in Charge, not with any grand, complex plan of redemption. His philosophy was simple: to be hospitable, welcoming, and open to all.”

And indeed, St. Mark’s is a most diverse church. Many of our parishioners are immigrants from Africa, Central and South America, the West Indies, and the Philippines. Father Checo enlarged the church’s food pantry, emphasizing the foods of our parishioners’ cultures. He conducted two Sunday Services, one in English, one in Spanish. He tended to the sick and dying, settled arguments, and counseled on how to navigate through city bureaucracy. Father Checo was the “good man” who Liz Brennan remembers did the “dirty work,” both literally and metaphorically, whether that meant setting boundaries or “plunging a church toilet.”

But in the midst of all these large issues, Father Checo also understood the importance of small moments of beauty and connection. Jennifer Florez treasures the memory of the “Godly Play” sleepovers. “He would play games with the children, pray over them, and then the Moms would sleep on the floor of the Parish Hall with their kids in a big messy pile of sleeping bags and stuffed animals. Always respectful of the children, Father slept on the floor in his office. He was usually the first one awake the next morning, and we would find him making coffee and getting breakfast started in the kitchen. My kids and I miss him so very much!”

Like Jennifer and Liz, the parishioners of St. Mark’s have “let their tears come out” at his passing. But now we are also able to smile a bit, as our intricate and joyous memories of Father Checo still enrich our lives and guide our viewpoints. He was an unforgettable friend and mentor, and his deeds and words will stay with us, like a repeated phrase that we say again and again, something our mothers and fathers whispered or shouted, that becomes part of who we are.

“He was a good man.”

“Let your tears come out.”

“At the end, what matters is the relationship one has with God.”