As I started to write this blog, my iTunes began to play
Bruce Cockburn’s “
Waiting for a Miracle,” one of my favorite Cockburn songs.
You rub your palm
on the grimy pane
in the hope that you can see
- when you're waiting…
You stand up proud
you pretend you're strong
in the hope that you can be
- when you're waiting…
like the ones who've cried
like the ones who've died
trying to set the angel in us free
while they're waiting for a miracle.
This week our pastor was away for the National Pastoral Congress
and left me with the celebrations of the feast of Saint Anthony of Padua.
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| Ravenna |
Here Saint Anthony is called upon as a great intercessor
with God, a miracle worker. Though I acknowledged that, I tried to give the people
an insight to Saint Anthony as one who responded to the call of God, imbued
with the wisdom of God, willing to go where God called him – beyond his native
Portugal to Africa, where he had to give up his dream of being a missionary
(and maybe even a martyr), to Italy where his boat was blown after leaving Africa,
to an obscure friary, to a life of mission in Italy and France, to his death at
36 in Padua. I also highlighted how he was called the Friend of the Poor.
To say that Saint Anthony is popular here is an understatement.
There are ten churches in our parish dedicated to this thirteenth century Franciscan
saint. I got to nine of them for Celebrations of the Word with Communion. I
missed one since they didn’t tell me. In one way they all melted into one grand
celebration.
We had one celebration late Tuesday afternoon in one of the
most remote villages. As I was leaving I was surprised – by first one little
girl sharing a candy with me and then another little boy following her example.
I was moved by their simple generosity.
Wednesday I expected just one celebration but got a call at
about 8:30 am that two communities were expecting me, beginning at 10. I suggested
to have the one celebration at 11 and the second at home. They agreed – thank God.
After the second I passed by the house to take y wash off the line. Then I went
to a mountainous village for another celebration. I left there as an intense
rainstorm started.
Thursday, the feast of Saint Anthony was a delightful
marathon. The first celebration was in Quebrada Grande, where there were lots
of fireworks.
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| Quebrada Grande |
Then, it was a short ride to San Antonio El Alto, where I arrived
shortly before the procession arrived at the church.
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| San Antojio El Alto |
When I got to the third village, they asked me if I was
going to another village. They were waiting for the priest. Somehow no one had
told them that the pastor was gone and that they had to arrange things with me.
I felt bad but there was no way I could get there.
The fourth celebration was almost an hour away from the
third village. San Antonio Dolores was waiting for me when I arrived. The
little church was packed. When we began I was struck by the participation of
the whole church in the hymns. I’m used to choirs drowning out the people with
acoustical guitars and drums. The electricity was out and so there were no
amplified guitars, but I doubt that this was the cause of the participation. The
church resounded with the people singing.
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| San Antonio, Dolores |
At the end of the celebration, we blessed Saint Anthony’s
Bread. I told them how the custom began with sharing bread with the poor. This
is the blessings I used – an adaptation of several friends shared with me.
Señor Jesucristo, verdadero Pan de Vida,
Te alabamos y te glorificamos por el don del pan, fruto de la tierra, trabajo
de manos humanas, fuente de alimentación de cada día.
Dígnate bendecir + este pan como
bendijiste los cinco panes en el desierto.
Enséñanos a compartir todos tus dones con los
pobres, los descartados, los hambrientos.
Haznos solidarios con el hambre de los
pobres para que, a ejemplo de san Antonio,
compartamos nuestro pan con los necesitados, imitando así tu generosidad.
Tú que vives y reinas por los
siglos de los siglos. Amén
Lord Jesus Christ, true Bread of Life, we praise and glorify
you for the gift of bread, fruit of the earth, work of human hands, source of everyday
nourishment. Please bless this bread as you blessed the five loaves in the desert.
Teach us to share all your gifts with the poor, the discarded, the hungry. Make
us be persons in solidarity with the hunger of the poor so that, as Saint Anthony
gave us an example, we may share our bread with those in need, imitating in
this ways your generosity. You who live and reign forever. Amen.
Then bread was shared.
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| Bread and coffee at San Antonio Dolores |
As the bread was shared I came across a boy I had seen in church.
He has some congenital problems that make walking very difficult. In addition,
when I talked with him, I noted that he has difficulty speaking. I asked him if
he wanted one of the breads. Yes. When I brought the bread, he was asking about
coffee. I got it and he was content. Shortly after a boy told me he wanted another
piece of bread. Rather than get it myself, I suggested that he go and get it –
and he did. A simple lesson in generosity. I passed the boy and he was smiling
as he was consuming the bread. That for me was one of the real joys of St.
Anthony’s feast.
After that celebration, I went to Dulce Nombre to the church
of San Antonio there for the last celebration. The congregation is more urban than
rural – and the music was well done by a children’s choir which sings every
Sunday.
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| San Antonio, Dulce Nombre |
The opening hymn was from the Salvadoran Misa Campesina, but
I was disappointed that they sang only one verse. The last two verses would have
been very appropriate.
Dios invita a todos los pobres
a esta mesa común por la fe,
donde no hay acaparadores
y a nadie le falta el conqué.
Dios nos manda a hacer de este mundo
una mesa donde haya igualdad,
trabajando y luchando juntos,
compartiendo la propiedad.
God invites all the poor
To those common table of faith
Where there are none who hoard,
And where no one lacks even more than basic food.
God commands is to make of this world
A table where there is equality,
Working and struggling together,
Sharing our property.
During the homily I used one of the two stories of Saint
Anthony I was using that day. The first was how Saint Anthony preached to the
fish when the people wouldn’t listen to him. (I used that one in a noisy church
early that day.) But here I used the other story.
Saint Anthony was at a funeral of a rich avaricious man. He
proceeded to tell the people that they couldn’t bury him in holy ground, in the
cemetery. He has no heart. The people brought in some physicians who opened his
chest and found no heart. Then the people went to the usurer’s home where they
found his heart in a chest of gold and silver. “Where your treasure is, there
is your heart,” Jesus had said. I asked
the people to examine themselves – “Where is your treasure?”
I felt a little uneasy. In the front bench was a coffee
grower and his wife. He has a lot of land. I wondered how he was taking it.
Well, at the greeting of peace, I decided to go down from the altar and greet
several people, including the grower. He gave me a big hug, thanking me for making
Saint Antony a little more alive for him. Wonder of wonders.
I got home – tired but grateful for the chance to celebrate
with so many people.
These days, especially when I am preaching or have a workshop,
I often pray when the alarm goes off that I can be a way that God opens the
people to recognize how they are loved by God. I don’t know if that happened those three days
– but I feel that God gave me so many little signs of his love.
In the midst of the pain, the injustice, the sorrow, and the social upheaval here, we are indeed waiting for a miracle. I return to Bruce Cockburn:
You rub your palm
on the grimy pane
in the hope that you can see
- when you're waiting...
like the ones who've cried
like the ones who've died
trying to set the angel in us free
while they're waiting for a miracle,
trying to set the
angel in us free…
There are miracles all around us, if we have open hearts.
May the angels within us be set free.
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In San Antonio Dolores
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