Meet Father Justin

Peace to you. I’m Rev. Dr. Justin Hurtado, OSB, STL, PhD. Priest. Psychologist. Holy troublemaker.
I live at the intersection of monastery stillness and city streets, candlelight and coffee, prayer and holy mischief. My vocation? To create spaces where people, of any faith or none, can catch their breath, lay down their burdens, and remember they are beloved.

Where I Come From

I’m from the Southwest United States and raised in the Bay Area, with roots that run deep into Mexican soil and branches that stretch toward California’s fog-draped skies. My formation wasn’t a straight line or a tidy answer. It was layered like the psalms: lament, praise, doubt, and fierce hope sung in Spanglish. Benedictine monks taught me how to listen for God in the hush between breaths. Wesleyan and Lutheran queer elders taught me how to dance in defiance and joy. Chronic illness taught me how to pray with my whole, unruly body, sometimes standing, sometimes seated, often rolling.

In 2017, I was ordained in the Old Catholic Church², a tradition ancient enough to honor the sacraments and rebellious enough to believe the Spirit is still whispering her way into new spaces.

But here’s the thing: not every priest runs a parish. I’m a Benedictine (that’s the “OSB” after my name). Instead of being assigned to a single congregation, my vows of stability, conversion, and obedience root me in a way of life. My altar isn’t fixed to one place; it appears in coffee shops, hospital rooms, and on Zoom calls across continents.

Think of it like this: diocesan priests are rooted in a parish. Religious priests are rooted in a people. For me, that means holding space as both a priest and a psychotherapist, wherever I’m needed.

Who I Work With

Who do I work with?
Short answer: Humans.
Long answer:

People untangling their messy, beautiful faith stories
Survivors of spiritual abuse are learning to trust their own souls again
Queer folks daring to believe they belong (because they do)
Disabled and chronically ill folks who need space for both grief and celebration
Seekers, skeptics, and the quietly curious
Anyone who’s ever been told they’re “too much” or “not enough” for God

Also? I love my dogs. So, if you want to talk about how your chihuahua has better theology than your old pastor, I’m here for it.

This isn’t a transaction. It’s sacred accompaniment, the kind of holy trouble that happens when you light a candle, pour coffee, and let your whole, messy self breathe.

My Vocation

I hold space for souls in all seasons, sometimes as a priest, sometimes as a psychologist, sometimes as both.

My calling isn’t about fixing, saving, or converting. It’s about showing up with an open heart, a listening ear, and enough sacred mischief to remind you that you’re not too much for God.

A Final Word

To me, theosis is less about arrival and more about presence. It’s the quiet, lifelong unfolding where we begin to see God not as far off but as the very heartbeat of our lives.

Some call it divinization. Some say enlightenment. I call it the holy trouble of daring to love and be loved so completely that nothing remains untouched by grace.¹

You don’t have to believe what I believe. You don’t have to clean up your life or your language. Just bring your whole, holy, gloriously complicated self. Pull up a chair. The Spirit’s already here.

Footnotes

¹ Theosis is an ancient Christian understanding of growing into union with God, not becoming God, but becoming fully alive in God’s love.

² The Old Catholic Church is an independent Catholic tradition with valid sacraments and apostolic succession, rooted in both ancient practice and contemporary inclusion.