Thanksgiving, death, baptisms – and Advent

This year, for the first time since I came to Honduras in 2007 I went to a Thanksgiving dinner. I was invited by Amigos de Jesús, which cares for and educates more than 100 Honduran children and adolescents, and a few young adults.

Their roots are with a priest from suburban Philadelphia and they have volunteers from the US in their program. A bilingual school also has volunteers from several countries. I got to know their co-director a few years ago and she invited me to speak with the volunteers, which I have done a few times. They also came to my home a few times for a meal and discussion. Their chaplain, a young Argentinian priest, is a good friend.

The meal was splendid – turkey which, as a vegetarian, I did not eat, sweet potatoes which I devoured, numerous side dishes, and splendid desserts. I brought two loaves of home-baked bread.

I stayed overnight at Amigos and headed home on Friday. I got a call asking me to preside at a funeral at 7 pm that night, but they rescheduled it since I don’t like to drive at night. I’m glad they did since the place was in a remote area with a slippery hill that I managed to climb in four-wheel drive. Henrique had died suddenly at 85 years of age, leaving his wife of more than sixty years, as well as numerous children, grandchildren, and great grand-children. He also had a few siblings still alive.

The Celebration of the Word with Communion was held in the family home, where the coffin occupied the main room. During the celebration the widow was there right at my side by the improvised altar. This faithful woman, who regularly walks up the hill for the Sunday celebrations, seem to me to be at peace.  Somehow – by the grace of God – I was able to say a few words of comfort and hope. It is a real blessing to be able to preside at funerals.

Saturday I had baptisms of five young children in another village. The children were quite attentive and not one cried! Several of the parents really seemed attentive during the baptism and Celebration of the Word with Communion.

I had another celebration in the evening and so I rushed off. I wish that I had stayed a little to visit the sick, since of the persons I had visited several times died the next morning. This is a sad reminder of my need to be more attentive and willing to spend more times visiting the sick.

The evening celebration, to begin Advent, was quite a miss-up. The town is used to a Mass on Saturday evenings and someone called the pastor, asking if there was Mass. I usually do a Celebration of the Word with Communion on Sundays when the pastor is out of town, but somehow the message got mixed up. But, we finally had the celebration.

Sunday morning I got up early and got to a community where the pastor usually has a 7:00 am Mass every Sunday. We celebrated the Word and I distributed Communion, There, many went to communion. I also saw a young couple I know with their six-month old daughter, a really charmer who readily let me hold her in my arms.

After that Mass I went to the church of San Antonio in Dulce Nombre, expecting to celebrate the rite of entry into the catechumenate with one young woman from Dulce Nombre. She was there but there were also five other young people from two other communities. Despite the lack of communication, it went well.

After the Celebration I started my road trip to Tegucigalpa where I’ll give four days of presentations for a certificate program with the Honduran Conference on Religious. I’ll be leading them in an investigation of how the reality affects the formation process of women and men religious. This is exciting, but it’s been quite a lot of work. I spent most of last week preparing. I pray that I’ll be able to help them in their endeavors to form new religious here in Honduras and Central America.

I stopped at Gracias to see the Dubuque Franciscan sisters for a bit (and to leave some stuff there for an ordination I’ll be attending Saturday.) Now I’m in Siguatepeque, relaxing a bit before I head out early tomorrow morning. I decided to do the trip in two parts, since it’s more than six hours driving from home to Tegucigalpa.

Such is my life here – full at times, but with moments when I can sit back, especially in the morning, and savor the beauty, the joy, and the presence of God in the midst of poverty and injustice.

It helps that during my preparation I read Walter Brueggemann’s The Prophetic Imagination, for the third time (at least). It’s a book I heartily recommend.