Turning seventy five

June 1, 1947, a Sunday, I came into this world – a few weeks late. I was expected in early May. This Wednesday I turn 75. It’s been quite a life.

Last Thursday I met in New York City with two friends who graduated with me from the University of Scranton in 1970 – fifty-two years ago. One just turned seventy-five and the other will next year. 

During my visit to the US, I also visited with a high school classmate as well as cousins, one of whom turns 75 at the end of July. One joy was seeing the grandkids of one cousin – seven of them, five under three years of age. I also stayed with a friend, now a priest, whom I met in Don Bosco summer camp, probably between fifth and sixth grades. Sad to say, I didn’t connect with anyone from grad school, since I have lost track of most of them. (One of my classmates at Boston College was elected abbot of St. Benedict’s Abbey in Newark, NJ, but I didn’t get to see him.) 

My life has been quite a journey – growing up in a blue-collar suburb of Philadelphia, spending six years in a Franciscan seminary and nine months in their novitiate, studying at the Jesuit University of Scranton and later at the Grad Faculty of the New School of Social Work in New York City. 

I taught in a Catholic high school in Indiana and worked in a home for kids with problems in Scranton, while occasionally teaching at the University. 

After doing disarmament work with the Vermont Ecumenical Council for 13 months, I returned to grad school, this time at Boston College.

Before I finished the dissertation (which I eventually did finish), I went to spend almost 24 years doing campus ministry and social ministry at St. Thomas Aquinas Church and Catholic Student Center in Ames, Iowa. I also had a chance to teach philosophy and religious studies at Iowa State University about once a year after 1990.

Then, in 2007, I came to Honduras. 

In 2016, at the urging of the bishop, I was ordained a permanent deacon, the first in our diocese and the third in Honduras. (There have been two more ordained after me,) All the other permanent deacons are in the archdiocese of Tegucigalpa, including a Salvadoran, ordained in San Francisco, who works in a poor and somewhat dangerous area on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa. 

What’s the meaning of all this?

A few months ago, I read an extraordinary book, Being Claimed by the Eucharist We Celebrate: a spiritual narrative for priests and deacons, that helps me understand where I am, how I got here, and also opens a way to the future. Fr. Scott Detisch, a priest and seminary professor in western Pennsylvania, wrote a book for deacons and priests on the Eucharist that I believe might serve all the faithful in the effort to understand who we are as followers of Jesus, the Christ, who took, blessed, broke, and shared His Body in the Eucharist. His reflections on brokenness are particularly poignant, but what struck me was a paragraph which helps me sum up my vocation;

When we look at ourselves, what allows a man, with an already established personality and ego-identity, to step forward to be ordained a deacon or priest, when all along he has been a broken human being, fraught with faults and failings? Has another story been writing his life? In a way, yes. It is nothing less than the narrative grace of the story of Jesus Christ. which is the transforming power of the Holy Spirit at work deep inside each person who professes faith in Jesus Christ and desires to serve him in the mission of the church. That narrative grace of the 3Holy Spirit, who so powerfully transformed the apostles, seeks to powerfully transform, through holy orders and the Eucharist, all ordained servant-leaders in the church. (p. 34)

Put aside for the moment the important questions of the role of women in the church. You may want to rephrase the quote to reflect your calling. 

But note the central question: 

What story has been writing my life? 

As I look back, Christ Jesus, the Word become flesh in the poor man from Nazareth, servant of God and servant of the poor, who initiated the Church of the Poor People of God, who has given himself completely, has been writing my life.

May I let Christ the Servant continue to write my life – for as many years as God gives me.

Updates: birthday, Corpus Christi, prison

As some of you may have noticed, I’m writing less on my blogs this year. Part may be due to the noonday devil (sloth), part may be due to busyness, and in part I may not want to burden readers with lots of little details.

By the way, sloth and busyness are not incompatible. But that’s an extended theological discussion.

Last Friday was my birthday. I got lots of greetings through Facebook, Messenger, e-mail, phone calls, and hugs. Two celebrations were especially moving.

I’ve been trying to find a time to invite the Dubuque Franciscan here to my house for a meal and time to share. Finally, we arranged a meal on May 31, the day before my birthday and a few days before the birthday of Erika, the Honduran member of their congregation.

It was a delightful visit – conversation and food galore. I made lentil soup (one of my specialties), baked whole wheat bread and cornbread, and made a bean salad. Nancy brought one of her incredible chocolate desserts. It was a great time.

After the meal, I left to get to Delicias, Concepción, to expose the Eucharist to initiate their Forty Hours of adoration.

My birthday was filled. In the morning I went to Dulce Nombre to speak with Padre German. Since it was the First Friday, a devotion to the Sacred heart which is very strong in the parish, there was Mass, where I served as a deacon and preached. During the prayer of the faithful, Padre German made a moving prayer for my parents, on my birthday. Then, at the end of Mass, there was the traditional birthday blessing and drenching with water.

In the afternoon I went to Oromilaca for the exposition of the Eucharist for their Forty Hours which began at 5 pm. I hurried back to Plan Grande where we initiated Forty Hours at 7 pm.

Saturday, I got up early to get to Delicias for a 6:30 am ending of the Forty Hours there with a Celebration of the Word with Communion. Before I left I stopped in at the church in Plan Grande to see four young people there for adoration.

I got to Delicias late, because I was confused (too little sleep?) and started out to Oromilaca. I got there at 6:45 am.

I had to hurry back to Dulce Nombre for a 9:00 am interview with a young couple getting married in a few months.

In the afternoon I ended up going to El Zapote to see the coffee association. I brought the device to measure humidity in coffee that I had gotten for them and we also talked about the upcoming shipment to Ames. I also stopped by the church where they too were celebrating the Forty Hours devotion.

Sunday, I went to Oromilaca for a 9:00 am Procession and Celebration of the Word with Communion. The church was filled and I carried the Eucharist in procession to two nearby altars.

At the second altar, as we started our prayer, kneeling in the road, I heard some people singing a hymn that I’ve often heard at Eucharistic adoration, “Dios está aquí” – “God is here.” I asked where the singing was coming from. From a group of evangelicals, I was told. I then invited the community gathered in front of the Eucharist to sing the same hymn. This suggestion probably confounded not only the evangelicals (when they heard the Catholics singing the same hymn) but also the Catholics, who are not accustomed to much openness to evangelicals.

After the Celebration, in which many received Communion, I left Oromilaca for Plan Grande, where we ended Forty Hours at 11 am.

Padre German came for Mass and procession in Plan Grande late in the afternoon. We started the procession but had to end it quickly because of a downpour. Mass proceeded, with the noise of the torrential rains on the tin roof of the church. There were sixteen first communicants – 14 children and three young people. A meal followed for those involved.

Monday, I stopped at the church and then went to Santa Rosa for a  few errands.

Tuesday, the parish visited the Santa Rosa prison. Thirty of us went to the prison. A group of women had started at 1:00 am to cook a meal – rice, beans, chicken and veggies – for the prisoners. And so we had to fit thirty people, 16 large water jugs of juice, and four large pans of food in three pickups! We got to the prison and after a number of delays – bureaucracy at its finest – we got in and served lunch. We ended up feeding about 840 male prisoners and the 39 women there.

The kitchen and the food distribution were well-staffed and so I went around and talked with people. Surprisingly, when I entered the prison I was immediately met by someone from one of the villages in the parish who is imprisoned there. Like many others, he has not yet been brought to trial and he’s been there probably close to a year!

I ended up talking with a number of people, including a few young men – one of them named Jesús. Now I can say that I met Jesus in prison. They talked about the conditions; because of overcrowding some men sleep on the floor, without mattresses.

After lunch, we had Mass which was well attended. My guess is over fifty of those incarcerated participated with another twenty or thirty looking on from a distance. After Communion was distributed to the men, I went and took Communion to the women prisoners who wanted to receive Communion.

We left shortly after in the midst of a major rainstorm and got back to Dulce Nombre about 3:30 pm.

Today, I had planned to go visit the sick in San Agustín, but speaking with the Communion minister there, she suggested that tomorrow would be better. So tomorrow I’m off to visit the sick in the morning and then go with Padre German to Granadillal for their feast day Mass in the afternoon. (It’s the feast of the Sacred Heart.)

                                                              

Saturday I have another pre-marriage interview as well as meeting with the Extraordinary ministers of Communion. Next Monday, there’s a meeting with the youth leaders in the parish.

On June 13, next Wednesday, we celebrate Saint Anthony of Padua, who is the patron of more than four communities in the parish. Padre German will have a load of Masses and I’ll accompany him for at least one of them, because I want to celebrate. June 13 this year is the anniversary of my arrival here in the diocese in 2007 – eleven years.

God is good.

Seventy years and celebrating

A seventieth birthday should probably be celebrated for seventy days or at least seventy hours. One person suggested that I celebrate the whole week.

I do know that I have had over 200 birthday greetings today via e-mail and Facebook - and phone calls. I lost track since some people made remarks on some of the photos I posted.

The birthday celebration actually started last Monday when I was with the men working on the parish coffee fields. Padre German was telling them that Thursday was my birthday and proceeded to pour water over my head several times. Bañando the person celebrating a birthday is not uncommon here – especially with Padre German!

I started Wednesday, getting up early to bake bread for my guests. I know that the six Franciscan Sisters of the Holy Family (the Dubuque Franciscans) usually take Wednesday off and so I invited them to an early birthday celebration.

Knowing they like bread I decided to go all out and bake cinnamon rolls. They were barely out of the oven when they arrived and so, putting on a pot of coffee, we enjoyed them. They were the best cinnamon rolls I have made here in Honduras (and maybe ever). We also had eggplant parmigiana (one of my classic dishes), bread, salad brought by the sisters, and an incredible chocolate dessert brought by Sister Nancy.

But the real joy was the company. We spoke of many things. We prayed. They sang. It was a time to lift the spirits. I am really blessed to know these sisters – and be an associate of their community. They are signs of God’s presence here in a particularly Franciscan way, fully committed to the poor.

After they left, I rested since I knew my birthday would be busy.

At about 8 am I begin helping folks here move chairs, tables, and more to the site of the Mass this morning. I also sent and picked up the young woman who has been largely bed-ridden who was going to receive her first communion. I nearly backed the car into a ditch, but the ingenuity of my Honduran neighbors saved the day.

We got to the site of the Mass and I got a chance to greet the couple who were getting married. I jokingly greeted them as novios, which could be translated as the engaged or even as boyfriend and girlfriend. Smiles ensued.

Before Mass started Padre German heard the confessions of the couple who were to be married and the young woman who would receive her first communion.

The small yard was filled with people – friends, neighbors, family, grand kids, kids – and a music group. It was a real community celebration of life and love.

Mass went on and Padre German gave a pointed homily. As he spoke with the couple, Paulino, the husband, became very responsive, at one point saying, very appropriately, “Love triumphs.”

Padre German also addressed the young woman whom he was going to anoint, asking her to see her illness as a way to share with Christ. (Note that this was not a way to diminish her suffering but to help her give it meaning.)

 After the homily, Padre German turned to me and said, “You’re doing the marriage!” Now that’s real delegation of responsibilities to the deacon. All went well and they were wed to the great joy of all those there. (I made no mistakes I know of.)

I did change one of the questions that the couple are asked. Instead of asking them if they were willing to accept children as a gift of their marriage, I amended it to note that they had accepted children.

As I see it, their sacramental marriage is really a confirmation of the “sacrament” that they have been living, of the sign of God’s love they have shared.

The Mass concluded after they had signed the parish’s wedding book, which is done publicly at the end of the Mass, before the blessing.

At the end of Mass in the parish, there is the custom to celebrate birthdays. The cumpleañeros come forward. Las mañanitas are sung; they are blessed and sprinkled with water and then they have to blow out their candles. Padre German, though, likes to bañar, pour lots of water, on the birthday parties – especially me. There were five of us - Wilmer, 13 years old, and three young women of various ages, and me.

After Mass, the food came out. The base communities of Plan Grande had come out in full force with tamales, rice, tortillas, and juice. It was a real celebration.

I took the young woman back to her home and then, after helping take things back to the church and taking a short break, I headed out to Dulce Nombre by the back route. A mistake.

First of all, I thought I had changed the condados, the locks for the four-wheel drive. So when I got stuck in the mud, I had to get out and change them. Mud abounded.

After that I had to get the car washed. I think something might be wrong and I’ll have to take it to a mechanic tomorrow since there is a wire hanging down from the engine.

Tomorrow, I also have to prepare for the Pentecost Vigil. I have to preach, though I do have some ideas already. I’ll also see about making sure the car is in working condition.

But then I’ll be off to Gracias to join the sisters in a celebration of Sister Nancy’s fifty years as a Sister of St. Francis of the Holy Family. I feel really blest to have known Nancy for about twenty-five years – from the time I met and worked with her in Suchitoto, El Salvador. She is partly responsible for me being here in Honduras. But most of all she is a great sign of the presence of God and of the Franciscan charism in the world of the poor and the young.

Then there’s the Pentecost Vigil – 6 pm, Saturday to 6 am, Sunday – to conclude my birthday celebrations – almost a week!