STURGIS, South Dakota — The sign above the double doors to St. Francis of Assisi’s sanctuary seems timeless, as appropriate during Sturgis’ Wild West days just as they are today.
“PLEASE CHECK YOUR GUNS, GUM, HATS, AND CELL PHONES … UNLESS YOU ARE MEDICAL OR EMERGENCY PERSONNEL.”
Behind the doors, rough-and-tumble-looking bikers in faded jean vests and wind-worn leather jackets knelt at their pews during Catholic Mass on Sunday. They got up to receive Communion, then sat back down to sing hymns.
Even at the 84th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, Sundays are for the spiritual.
All across the small South Dakota town, riders gathered for services while hellraisers slept off their Saturday nights. At 8:30 a.m., the streets of Sturgis were dead, but the churches were alive.
For The Faithful
Across from St. Francis of Assisi, members of the Messengers of Hope riding group with the Christian Motorcyclists Association held a prayer for its volunteers.
Grace Lutheran Church put on a breakfast for rallygoers.
One mile to the west, Lifespring Wesleyan Church beamed out a sermon on David and Goliath to online viewers. The church, which gathers in-person on most Sundays, chose to hold streaming-only services during the rally .
That’s because many Sturgis residents, including churchgoers, hightail it out of town in late July and early August so they don’t have to deal with all the traffic and noise that comes with their town of 7,200 swelling to half a million people during the 10-day motorcycle revival.
“Our regulars get away,” the Rev. Timothy Castor of St. Francis of Assisi said. “They flee.”
Even so, the pews were nearly full Sunday. But that didn’t surprise Castor, who has served in Sturgis for 10 years. Bikers have regularly attended Mass as long as he has been there.
Some, he said, are lapsed Catholics who, for whatever reason, decide that the Sturgis rally is the time and place for them to return to the faith fold.
“I hear some very profound confessions of people being back after years and years,” Castor said, declining to elaborate on the specifics of those confessions due to his solemn vow to protect confidentiality.
Badlands To The Bone
Do new riders attend because they feel convicted after days of debauchery, which can include bikini contests and ShotSkis of liquor? Do the Badlands turn them good?
Castor said he doesn’t know. He leaves the how’s and why’s to the Holy Spirit.
In general, he said he’s found most of his summertime congregants to be kindhearted, devout and respectful people of faith.
“I really love this community,” he said. “There’s a stereotype, but they’re really fine people.”
They are men like Horacio Vela, 72, of south Texas.
He said he has attended mass in Sturgis nearly every Sunday the last 33 times he has attended the motorcycle rally.
“Almost every year,” he said.
Standing well over 6-feet, Vela is a retired U.S. Border Patrol officer with an imposing frame. But when asked why he attends church during his vacations to Sturgis, his eyes welled up and he broke down with tears as he conveyed his gratefulness to God.
Tucked in his 2017 Harley-Davidson Ultra’s glovebox was a brown-beaded rosary he doesn’t ride without.
“Everywhere I go the Lord is with me,” he said. “Right now, I’m riding alone, but I know Christ Savior is always with me.”
Lowell Foos, a 74-year-old in a black leather Harley-Davidson riding jacket, said he attends the mass out of habit.
“I just do it every Sunday at home,” said Foos, who is from Kansas. “That, and my wife would chew my ass out if I didn’t go.”
Horacio Vela stands near his Harley-Davidson after Catholic Mass on Sunday. Vela carries a rosary with him as he rides. (Justin George, Cowboy State Daily) 
The sign above the sanctuary at St. Francis of Assisi in Sturgis. (Justin George, Cowboy State Daily) The sign above the sanctuary at St. Francis of Assisi in Sturgis. (Justin George, Cowboy State Daily)
Blessing Of The Bikes
Following the service, the Rev. Castor stood at the door and greeted everyone as they exited. It was time for the blessing of the bikes, something he has done for years.
Riders retrieved their motorcycles and pulled them up to the front of the church, where they lined them up in a row.
Clothed in a splendid green vestment with gold accents, Castor walked to the edge of the curb, where everyone crowded around.
Church bells rang as he opened a Bible and gave a short message from the Book of Acts about the Apostle Philip being divinely sent out to a road so he could approach the chariot of a traveling Ethiopian eunuch, who was having trouble understanding the scriptures. The meeting led to the man’s understanding of the Gospel.
Castor chose the passage because a ride led the Ethiopian to the Lord, symbolic of the bikers journey on Sunday.
“May the almighty God bless these motorcycles and their riders in the name of the father, the son and the holy spirit,” Castor said as he concluded.
He then grabbed an aspergillum and a pail of holy water and sprinkled drops on the parked bikes and the riders standing nearby.
“OK, God bless you,” he told them. “You still have to drive safely.”
He joked that the holy protection only went so far.
“Have a good time,” he said. “Behave everybody.”
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Justin George can be reached at justin@cowboystatedaily.com.
