Photo Courtesy St. Mary Mother of God Church

JACKSON—According to the National Kidney Registry, there are more than 90,000 people currently seeking a transplant donor. In the U.S. alone, 12 of them die every day. 

Father Jose Kochuparampil, the pastor at St. Mary, Mother of God Church in Jackson, was on that waitlist, until Nov. 20, 2025, when 38-year-old Noah Zell walked into his office and changed everything.    

Noah and wife, Rachael, along with their two daughters, Willow, 13, and Elora, 7, had a homemade card for their priest. The message on it was lifesaving, and began: “Dear Father Jose, I am humbled to offer my kidney to you, following Christ’s example of self-sacrifice.” 

Father Jose, who is rarely short of words, found only two at that moment.  

“I couldn’t believe what I was reading,” he said. “It took more than a minute to collect myself and speak. And, when I did, all I could say was, ‘Thank you.’” 

For six years Father Jose had only negative reports from his nephrologist, but now the news was good. 

The pastor self-administered nightly peritoneal dialysis for two years and three months following a confirmation of polycystic kidney disease. That in-home, self-administered treatment required sterile fluids to be electronically pumped into his abdomen, through a permanently placed port.  

The liquid then absorbed waste that an otherwise healthy kidney would filter from the bloodstream. The fluid was then pumped out of the abdomen and into a sterile storage bag for disposal. Before and after dialysis, everything had to be properly cleaned and sanitized to prevent an infection that could be deadly.  

“It is not easy,” said Father Jose. “And sleeping through all of it is impossible.”  

Many treatment patients grow increasingly depressed, especially understanding that the average transplant donation wait time is three to five years, but Father Jose said his faith never wavered.  

“I regularly prayed Psalm 23. The words gave me comfort,” he said. 

Father Jose knew better than to become impatient, having learned that even being placed on the transplant waitlist would be a long and somewhat complicated process–including months of tests and ultimately a medical board review to determine if his body was a qualified transplant candidate.  

That “thumbs up” came on Dec. 20, 2024, and the waiting began.  

Finding a donor 

A representative from the National Kidney Registry encouraged Father Jose to put various internet platforms to work in “spreading the word,” but he was hesitant.  

It was only after encouragement by parishioners who knew about his condition that the priest realized that donors were not likely to find him unless he took some initiative to find them.  

Atlanta’s 11 Alive journalist, Savannah Levins, volunteered to put her social media skills to work by applying a National Kidney Registry link to a posting that told the priest’s story. The page was posted on multiple platforms. It included a link that encouraged site-visitors to “click to learn more.”  

It worked.  

Within weeks of launching the campaign, thousands of people saw the postings. Hundreds clicked the link, and 26 began the donor registration process.  

Of the prospective donors, six were parishioners. There were several Knights of Columbus, who knew Father Jose through his service as the group’s state chaplain. Others may have come from the bulletin postings at diocesan parishes, who had taken a cue from an archdiocesan communique.  

One who stepped forward was Noah Zell, who along with wife, Rachael, had only months earlier received first holy Communion and confirmation via St. Mary’s OCIA program.  

Explaining how he initially heard about Father Jose’s situation, Noah said, “It was really by accident.” 

“I was looking at the posts on a friend’s Facebook when I saw a link to a web page for a Catholic who needed a kidney transplant,” explained Rachael. “I linked to it and saw that the priest was Father Jose. We couldn’t believe it.”  

The Zells regularly attend Mass and read the parish bulletin but never heard anything about their priest’s situation. 

“He just never said anything about it,” said Rachael. 

The family, and most parishioners, didn’t know about it, because their pastor resisted using his position or pulpit to promote his need.  

“After finding the posting,” Noah said, “I asked Rachael what she thought about my logging in just to see what it was all about.”  

“I had initial hesitation on all of it,” Rachael said, “mostly with ‘what if’ questions relating to the girls. But I prayed about it, and I finally agreed: ‘Let’s do it and see what happens.’” 

Noah and Rachael Zell show off a Superman shirt included in a gift package from St. Mary parishioners—two days after the surgery he underwent in December 2025 to give his kidney to the parish priest. Photo Courtesy of Zell Family

It was a long shot; the odds of two unrelated people being a perfect kidney match are roughly one in 100,000 (National Kidney Registry).  

So, Noah took a page from Father Jose’s playbook. The family would keep their decision quiet unless Noah’s kidney turned out to be an ideal match.  

With their choice made, the Zells had a family meeting to talk about what they were about to do and why. There were a few questions, but everyone was on board with the plan without a lot of conversation. 

Noah did remember one interesting conversation when explaining organ donation to his daughters.  

“No, God didn’t give us extra body parts, but he did give us the opportunity to share the parts that we have,” he told them. 

When asked, after the transplant, what she thought of her father’s decision, daughter Willow responded, “I think it was really cool what he did for Father Jose.”    

“Initially, things moved slowly, with administrative forms and a couple of interviews to ensure that I was not being coerced or pressured in any way to apply,” he said.  

“We thought that was kind of funny,” Noah said, “based on how quiet Father Jose had kept things.”  

From there Rachael says the process was like a “whirlwind.”  

Noah said that once the paperwork was out of the way, they immediately began a set of medical examinations that evaluated his overall health.  

“Most important to the doctors was my heart health and assurance of the absence of hypertension,” he said. “All was good there, so we then moved onto a lot of lab work designed to determine how effectively my kidneys were functioning—even injecting dyes into my bloodstream to see how well the kidneys filtered them out.” 

Over the course of the evaluation, blood was drawn and tested about 10 times.  

There were also tests to evaluate how well Noah’s internal tissue matched Father Jose’s. Those tests provided acceptance or rejection probability indicators.  

Many prospective donors were excluded for various reasons along the way, but not Noah. 

And in mid-November he received an email from the case worker at Piedmont. The medical evaluation team had met and made the final determination: Noah was green-lighted for the donation as soon as it could be planned.  

On Nov. 12, 2025, Father Jose received a call from a social worker at Piedmont Hospital.  

Father Jose remembers the conversation well, “She said, ‘Congratulations; we have a matching donor for you.’” He remembers the caller being very calm and discussing the next steps in the process. He learned that the procedure would take place in three weeks’ time.  

This was significant news in two major ways. First, it provided certainty that the kidney would be coming from a live donor. If it had been from a deceased donor, then the tenor of the phone call would have been strikingly different.  

The caller would have told the priest to grab his already-packed suitcase and get to the hospital as soon as physically possible—knowing that the organ’s condition would rapidly decline until successfully transplanted.  

Secondly, and having done his research, the 67-year-old Father Jose knew the Kidney Registry’s statistics: The average viability of a kidney from a deceased donor is 8-15 years, compared to 20-40 years for one from a living donor.  

The rush of emotions was almost overwhelming.  

He remembers having so many questions, but asking only one: “Can you tell me who the donor is?” 

The social worker said she could not. This information would remain confidential—unless the donor chose to personally contact the recipient. 

Things moved fast from there. There were a lot of details to attend to, including assurance that Noah’s employer would approve the necessary time off. His manager told him that they were supportive, a point illustrated by a significant donation to St. Mary by the company’s president and CEO—in recognition of Noah and his family.  

Transplant day 

Final plans were made, and on Dec. 5, both Noah and Father Jose were admitted as patients at Piedmont Atlanta.  

By that time, Noah says he had complete confidence in all things associated with the transplant. He said, he essentially made a deal with God to enter the evaluation process and embrace the outcome—whatever it would be. He said that once God “chose him” as the donor, he found immediate peace with it.  

After several hours of waiting in the pre-op area, he was told that doctors were ready for the laparoscopic removal of one of Noah’s healthy kidneys.  

The procedure and post-op lasted about six hours, and by 10 p.m. both Noah and Rachael were resting comfortably in his hospital room, with one priority left—a phone call to Willow and Elora who were staying with their grandmother. Willow answered on the first ring, and everyone was given assurance that all was well.  

For Father Jose, there was an 11 a.m. arrival time and a five-hour wait.  

At 3:45 p.m., a nurse came into the pre-op area and announced, “It’s time.” 

“I remember being nervous. But that anxiety disappeared just before I was rolled into the operating room, when one of the attending nurses knelt beside me and began praying for me. He then asked for a blessing from me. It was a powerful moment and one that gave me great peace,” Father Jose recalled.  

Father Jose Kochuparampil gives a thumbs up during his recovery from kidney transplant surgery. The priest, who had polycystic kidney disease, self-administered nightly peritoneal dialysis for more than two years leading up to the transplant. Photo Courtesy of St. Mary, Mother of God Church

“My next memory,” Father said, “was waking up in a recovery area and hearing that it was 8:45 p.m. A nurse told me that everything went well, for both me and Noah.” 

Hospital stays for both men were very brief. Noah was released the day after the transplant, and Father Jose checked out two days later.  

“I asked about the sort of home nursing care I would be receiving,” Father Jose recalls, “and the doctor told me that it would be unnecessary. He said, ‘you will be back to normal in no time.’” 

“No time” proved to be only a couple of days of bedrest and three months of isolated recovery. Parishioners made provisions for home-delivered meals throughout that time, and by the end of March, their pastor was as healthy as he had been in decades.  

Noah’s recovery time was not nearly as long, but there were adventures along the way, like when, after two days of recuperation, he decided that he ought to help with some household tasks by vacuuming, while Rachael was at the grocery store.  

“The only problem with that plan,” Rachael said, “was that the girls told on him.”  

Though he insisted that he was not in any real pain, “Nurse Rachael” ordered him back to bed, where he was unhappily, but comfortably stationed for the rest of the week.  

By week two, Noah was working remotely, and back to the office after only three weeks. By week six, he had settled into his pre-surgery routine, with only slight modifications to his diet. He says that, if anything, he feels better now than before the transplant, with a better eye on taking care of himself. He recently joined a gym and says he is more cognizant of what he eats, though he says that Burger King Whoppers are not going away anytime soon.   

“When I look back on all of it,” Noah said, “I’m not sure that it was even my decision. It was almost as if God told me that he had a plan, and that I had a role in it. All I did was say yes.”  

On April 6, Father Jose returned to the altar. At most weekday Masses, homilies are not preached, but on this day, spoken words seemed appropriate. 

The pastor stepped behind the ambo and adjusted the microphone. He looked down at his printed comments and began to speak. Emotions took the place of words. A memory was spoken, then a pause. Another few words, and another pause.  

He had prepared himself for the moment, with provisions to clear his eyes. The attending parishioners made no such preparations. The sanctuary was silent.  

When he finished speaking, Father Jose looked up from his notes and smiled broadly. It was as if to silently say, “I’m home.”