A late update.
In our parish we begin the celebrations of Holy Week with a parish Stations of the Cross in Dulce Nombre on the Friday before Palm Sunday. We walk through the streets of Dulce Nombre, stopping at fourteen stations, followed by Mass in the main church to celebrate La Virgen Dolorosa, Our Mother of Sorrows.
Migration, mostly to the US, has devastated some parts of the parish. People pay coyotes, often an exaggerated sum of money, to get them to the US. This leaves some villages with few men. In many places, this also wreaks havoc on families.
Violence continues to devastate the parish. There have been cases this year of murders. In addition, there is the hidden violence of domestic violence and abuse (sexual and psychological). The abuse of alcohol and the use of drugs continues to plague some communities.
Alcoholism has long been a problem. More recently, selling and use of drugs has become a problem. We remember these and other concerns, recalling how Jesus shares our sufferings and our concerns.
Palm Sunday was cold and rainy. I had a cold but still went to the Procession and Mass in Dulce Nombre. I preached, but I didn’t walk in the procession. Instead, I rode in the car with the sound system since I felt a cold coming on.
Tuesday, I went to a rural village to visit the sick and for a Celebration of the Word with Communion.
Thursday was busy. First of all there was the Chrism Mass in Santa Rosa de Copán. It was good to be there – and also to see a few friends.
After the Mass (and coffee with a friend, Padre Pato), I went to a Celebration of the Word with Communion and Washing of the Feet in Concepción, at 3 pm.
At 5pm I was in La Colonia San José Obrero for another Celebration of the Word with Communion and Washing of the Feet. They had arranged twelve chairs on one side of the church for the twelve men whose feet were to be washed. I didn’t say anything beforehand, though in the Holy Week planning sessions I’d emphasized that they should include men and women, young and old. But, after I washed the feet of the twelve men, I asked if there were any women whose feet I could wash. Four women agreed.
At 7 pm, I was in the main church for the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. As our pastor, Padre German, washed the feet of twelve persons, I found myself accompanying him and drying the feet with a towel. We hadn’t arranged that, but it just seemed natural for this deacon.
Good Friday, I went to two remote villages. In the morning I went to El Higon, a small hamlet whose delegate died a few years ago. They had planned to go to a nearby village but were glad to be able to do the Stations in their small village. The people had arranged the stations on the road with small bouquets of flowers. It simple, but a moving sign of the people’s faith and devotion.
In the afternoon, I went to Mar Azul for the Service of the Passion and the Veneration of the Cross.
Holy Saturday is a day of rest – remembering and awaiting the resurrection. For many years, this has been a day to prepare for the Easter Vigil – by baking bread and cinnamon rolls.
The Vigil began at about 6 pm and entered about midnight. After the blessing of the fire and the Paschal Candle, we walked to the new auditorium for the Celebration of the Word, the Baptism of 29 catechumens, and the Celebration of the Eucharist. We heard all the readings and the responses to the readings were sung.
The Baptisms were held in the entrance to the auditorium. One young woman, an aspirant to the community of religious in Dulce Nombre, whispered to me, “What joy!” You could see it in the faces of many of the baptized as the paster doused them with the baptismal water.
I got home and couldn’t sleep until about 1 am.
I got up a little later than usual, but I arrived in time for a Celebration of the Word with Communion in a distant village.
After the Celebration I planned on going to La Entrada to have Eatser lunch with the Dubuque Franciscan sisters, bearing cinnamon rolls and fresh-baked whole wheat bread.
The people told me that there was a back way to get to the main highway to La Entrada. I had traveled it once with the pastor, but I managed to get lost. I knew I was lost when I saw the road plunge to a ravine with fifteen-inch rocks. I turned around and started back when I came across a few people who told me how to get to the highway. They even offered to send their son as a guide. I declined the offer, but when I got to one point, I felt myself lost again. Fortunately, there were some people in a nearby stream who showed me the way out. It was an adventure.
I arrived in time for a great visit with the three sisters and a great meal. I got home and was glad to be able to relax.
Monday morning I had two pre-marriage interviews. I did take some time off to stay at home (and wash clothes and clean the house.) Such was my Holy Week.
On the first Sunday after Easter I ended up taking four seminarians from the diocese to the seminary in Tegucigalpa – six hours away. After early morning Mass in Concepción, where the pastor had me preach, we headed out. The four are in the first year of seminary formation, which is set aside to help prepare the candidates for their studies. The public school system here is so deficient that a year is set aside to help the new seminarians learn study skills and more. Some don’t need it as much as others, but it just underlines the poor educational system here.
At the seminary, I had two chances to talk with the thirty or so first year seminarians about the permanent diaconate. There are only six deacons in the whole country. Four were ordained for the archdiocese of Tegucigalpa (and at least three of them are academics). I was ordained for the diocese of Santa Rosa de Copán. Another deacon, José Peñate, came with his family as a missionary and has been in the Tegucigalpa area for about seven years (working in a very poor area.)
While I was preparing to speak to the seminarians, I began to realize that for me the accompaniment of the poor is a critical aspect of being a deacon. I really need to make an examen of life every week, asking myself when was the last time I was in the home of a poor person. When it’s been a while, I need to reform my life and get out and visit.
I stayed in Tegucigalpa until Tuesday. I even had a chance to meet Deacon José before I left.
The trip home was longer than the trip to Tegucigalpa. I stopped in Siguatepeque to purchase a few things – and had a double dip ice cream cone from the Mennonite Store. Just before Intibucá I stopped at a roadside stand where I bought strawberries as well as a bunch of asparagus.
I had never encountered asparagus in Honduras until I passed the same stand about four years ago. I usually stop at this stand to buy strawberries and other fruits and vegetables, but finding asparagus there was a real surprise. The woman was there with her three kids – one a few months old. The oldest (about 11) helped with my order of strawberries. I ended up talking with the woman and two of her kids. She was proud that the two older boys were in school and that the first grader loved school and was learning very easily. She was proud that he was so smart. As I drove, I asked myself, “why did I take time to talk with the mother and her kids?” My first thought was because I want to give them a sense of being important and worth listening to. But then I told myself, “You do it because you love them.”
I also stopped at a café near Yaramanguila where we had stopped on the way to Teguc. The owner had purchased some asparagus for me, and I stopped to get it. She gave me five bunches – as a gift.
I ended up sharing two bunches with US Protestant missionaries in Santa Rosa whom I know. (I tried calling the sisters in Gracias, but no one answered.) I love asparagus but couldn’t eat that much. I had received a gift and so I too had to share. I got home after 5 pm, but I didn’t collapse until I had prepared and eaten rice and asparagus.
That’s a summary of the last few weeks.
In all this I thank God – and the people who are so good to me.
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