The year at Dulce Nombre de Maria: challenges and signs of hope.

I began to write this post on January 28, the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas to thank the parish of St. Thomas Aquinas in Ames, Iowa, for their continued support of our parish, Dulce Nombre de María. The day before our pastor had told me to send them his profound thanks for all that they have shared with us. This post is an expanded version, with photos, of a letter I sent to St. Thomas Aquinas parish.

On the morning of January 28, at 7:05 am, I got a phone call from a communion minister in a nearby village. He greeted me on the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas and expressed his gratitude for STA’s support of the parish. He was going to the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament in the church in his village (which they do every Thursday for several hours) and told me that they would be praying for St. Thomas Aquinas Church during the day. I was moved by his call which showed me how much the people here appreciate the solidarity of St. Thomas.

That afternoon I went out to Mass in a remote village, getting there with no trouble. During the Mass, Padre German prayed for St. Thomas. Mass started late and rains began. The trip back home was hazardous; there were a few slippery hills where I wondered if I would get out. But I got home with no scrapes on me or the new truck; going over this narrow road by a landslide was one of the easier parts of the trip.

Today I want to take remembering the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas as an opportunity to review the past year. 

It has been a difficult year throughout the world and especially here. Honduras has been plagued in recent years by poverty, corruption, and a broken infrastructure, especially in the areas of health and education.

Then the pandemic hit. Honduras went on almost complete lockdown, which actually may have helped prevent the spread of the virus. But the medical system was overwhelmed and the efforts to bring in temporary hospitals and treatment equipment have been plagued by corruption and inefficiency.

For me, an introvert, this has been a time for reading, praying, and almost a retreat. I have also taken advantage of several on-line education programs, including a course on Intrafamiliar Abuse offered by CEPROME, which works on abuse prevention, especially in the church. CEPROME also provided a virtual study week on abuse for all the clergy of Honduras. Thank God for a fairly decent internet connection.

I also used the time for a lot of reading and a fair amount of baking bread. 

I am also blessed because a friend here in Plan Grande has a tomato project and even delivers the beef-steak sized tomatoes. This makes cooking and shopping much easier.

Our parish has not suffered from COVID-19 as much as the major metropolitan areas. There have been cases in several of the municipal centers and some villages – with several deaths. But the pandemic has disrupted life – and made life more difficult for many of the poorest.

During the pandemic, the pastor and I helped one municipality distribute supplies to the needy on two occasions. We went along to help assure that the aid was distributed to those most in need and was not used for political purposes (which is a great danger here, especially since elections are being held this year.)

In regard to pastoral work, we have tried to minister to the parish within the limits of the restrictions as well as in light of the need to adhere to health safeguards.

The pastor and a seminarian (ordained a deacon in December) went around to a number of places. I restricted my travels a bit more (now that I’m 73 years old), but found myself involved in pre-marriage interviews, baptisms, funerals, and more. I have presided at a good number of funerals, five here in Plan Grande. I also did pre-marriage interviews and helped in the baptismal preparation of three persons who were going to be married. There also have been a number of baptisms, not only of children but also of several adults preparing for baptism.

When the bishops conference released guidelines for public worship, I presided at Sunday morning Celebrations of the Word with Communion in the church here in Plan Grande and went out a bit more, though I adhered to travel restrictions which limited use of vehicles to certain days. When I got a safe-conduct pass, I went out a bit more and have visited a number of villages for Sunday morning celebrations.

I haven't traveled much outside of the department of Copán where I live, but the pastor and I did go to the ordination of three transitional deacons fore our diocese. 

Deacon Fernando's ordination in Dulce Nombre

Enroute to one ordination in Santa Bárbara we saw how Hurricane Iota devastated parts of that department, especially along the river Ulua.

In the midst of this, with the help of donations from St. Thomas as well as fund-raising efforts of parishioners, the parish was able to avoid laying off any of its few employees, notably the secretary and cooks. The parish was also able to continue the rehabilitation of the church in Dulce Nombre, mostly from donations of parishioners and the fund-raising efforts of some women in Dulce Nombre, selling pupusas, pasteles, and other food.

Thanks to a few other independent donations, the parish was also able to contract an artist to paint an impressive mural in the apse of the church. He will begin painting murals in the side chapels this month. 

This month the parish will start a major effort to prepare spaces in the parish center in Dulce Nombre for parish-wide meetings for formation of parish leaders, thanks to a very generous donation in the past.

The St. Thomas Aquinas parish support of the distance learning education program of Maestro en Casa has enabled many junior high and high school students to study, even during the pandemic. I remember visiting a home while we distributed provision and seeing a young man working on his homework. This year the scholarships will help about 160 young people to continue their education.

In the midst of all this, we had to attend to the parish coffee fields. We have had volunteers come out and do pruning and weeding. We have had several days when parishioners came out to harvest the coffee. A few weeks ago, more than 160 came out on a Monday and 60 more the next day and harvested more than 800 five gallon containers of coffee beans. 

As if the pandemic wasn’t enough, Honduras was buffeted by two hurricanes in October and November. Much of the devastation, especially from the first hurricane, affected the north coast, especially around the industrial center of the country in San Pedro Sula.

The parish was also affected somewhat by the first hurricane, Eta. Yet we experienced the brutal force of the second hurricane, Iota, with landslides, collapse of soils, and fallen trees. The ground was already saturated because of more rain than usual this year. The heavy rains and winds led to the isolation of many villages because of impassible roads and fallen bridges, some for almost two weeks. The rains, fallen trees, and mudslides also contributed to the breakdown of water systems in some areas as well as lack of access to electricity. Some roads are still hazardous when it rains.

But the worst damages from Hurricane Iota were to houses in several villages of the parish, as well as to the loss of farmland and coffee fields. More than 180 families in the parish were affected. Some have had to abandon their homes; others are living in hazardous areas where major storms could provoke more  landslides and destruction of houses.

At least one village will probably need to be relocated and some people in other areas will have to move to more secure places in or near their villages.

some of the destruction in San Marcos Pavas

Yet in the midst of this we have seen many persons respond to the needs of others, even though they are themselves poor. People have collected food stuffs, shared beans and corn with the parish to distribute, and even gone out to take provisions and clothing to villages. Migrants from here in the US and Spain have sent money to help respond to the needs of those affected by the hurricanes. We have also received aid from other parts of the diocese and even from some people in Tegucigalpa.

This coming year presents us with many challenges. How will we safely resume formation of pastoral workers in the villages? How will we help restructure the local faith communities, including a revival of base communities? How will we help communities that need to rebuild? How will we accompany the people as they deal with loss of houses and farmland, with seriously damaged water systems, with roads in terrible condition? How will we be present in the major health crisis of COVID-19, with hospitals overwhelmed.? How can we help assure that the vaccines, when they arrive, are distributed to those most in need and not used by politicians to garner votes in this year’s elections? How will we serve those people who are so desperate that they are thinking of migrating? 

We have received some financial assistance to help people rebuild, some from St. Thomas and some from my personal friends. 

We are doing some planning to work on restructuring the base communities in the parish as well as the work of the catechists. This coming week I’ll begin visiting catechists in the ten rural sectors of the parish.

We have work to do. But with the help of God, of the members of the parish, and of the generous friends of the parish, especially the parish of St. Thomas Aquinas in Ames, Iowa, we are encouraged in our efforts.

This year we also have the help of a seminarian, Melvin, in his year of pastoral practice as well as the transitional deacon, Fernando, for at least a few months - if not more.

On behalf of the parish, I want thank all whose who support us. We are grateful and I want to assure you that we pray for you.

May God continue to bless you. Let us pray for each other and support each other in loving solidarity.

The times are difficult but hopeful

Before the pandemic shut down our lives here in Honduras (and in the world at large), my calendar was full. There were training sessions with catechists, parish meetings and formation meetings for delegates of the Word and Communion ministers, Sunday visits to communities to bring the Eucharist, visits to the sick, working with the social ministry coordinators in the aldeas, doing the last interviews with couples getting married, accompanying the pastor to villages for weekday Masses as well as one Mass on Sundays. And more. 

 For the first few months, mostly because of the government travel restrictions, I stayed at home. I did go our several times for funerals, to attend to a sick person, or to get supplies on the days we were allowed to travel (about once every two weeks). I twice accompanied the local municipal workers handing out basic foods and supplies. 

When the restrictions were relaxed and there were protocols for church meetings, I began to preside at the Sunday Celebrations here in Plan Grande, where I live. When I had a safe conduct pass, I went out a bit more for parish ministry, but I didn’t go out on weekends because no one was supposed to travel on those days. When this changed, I began to go to one Mass each Sunday. 

Now there are fewer restrictions, but I still consider it important to be prudent and careful, not trying to fill up my schedule, but going out when needed. I am probably a bit more cautious than I might be – but I am 73 years old and I’m finding my energy is less than even a year ago. 

So what have I been doing? 

For my mental and spiritual health I have been reading, praying, getting to Mass every Sunday. I've taken advantage of several educational opportunities and I'm participating regularly with a small group studying the social teaching of the church (in English) and also with a community organized by Maryknoll reflecting each week on the Gospel (in Spanish). I’ve had Skype sessions with my spiritual director (and should schedule another soon.) I also have had the chance to be with the Dubuque Franciscan Sisters twice; in fact, I spent the evening of the feast of Saint Francis with them. 

In terms of pastoral ministry, I have, as mentioned above, served as deacon at Mass once each Sunday, usually at an afternoon Mass in San Agustín or one of the larger aldeas. Often the pastor has me preach. Several times I have gone out on Sunday mornings to preside at a Celebration of the Word in a community and bring them the Eucharist. Other Sundays, I preside here in the aldea where I live. 

I also served as deacon at the diocesan Chrism Mass at the end of September.

The weekend of October 3 and 4, the pastor took off – a well-deserved vacation. Since the fourth is the feast of St. Francis, the patron of three villages in the parish, as well as a Sunday, the seminarian with us and I had to cover seven celebrations. I covered three on the feast of St. Francis. What a joy to be able to preach on his feast day in communities that I know and cherish. 

I have also made occasional visits to communities to visit the sick, being careful for their health (and mine.) 

I am probably stricter than many in terms of safety and security measures. I also try to take a supply of masks for people when I go anywhere. After an initial error when I castigated someone harshly for not wearing a mask, I realized that if I am really concerned about the people I should not make demands that cannot be met, but rather I need to provide ways for people to respond. So I'm buying and giving out masks.

Catechesis has been curtailed since March but there have been several places where people were prepared for sacraments before the pandemic struck and so we’ve had a few celebrations of the sacraments in various places. 

In San Agustín there were five young people in the catechumenate who would have been baptized at the Easter Vigil. I met with them as well as with an adolescent in a nearby village to do the last Scrutiny and the final preparations for their baptism and first communion. The pastor was going to baptize them at a Mass on October 10 but couldn’t make it and so delegated me for their baptism. It was a time of great joy, which was enhanced by the desire of the young people to be baptized with lots of water! The five from San Agustín received their first communion the next day at Mass in San Agustín and the one from the village waited until Wednesday when the pastor celebrated Mass there. 

This year we’ve had a record number of couples preparing for the sacrament of Matrimony. The pastor has me do the final interview with the couple and two witnesses. Before we did them in Dulce Nombre but, because of the difficulties of travel from the villages, I have done most in the villages. 

It is great to see these couples serious about their faith lives. Some of them have been living together for a time and have children, but there are a number who have not. There also have been three who had not been baptized. I did a special session with them (to supplement what they had received in their villages) and baptized them. There are also couples in two villages who have not followed up. Some of this is due to the difficulties imposed by the curfews and the closure of government offices. (In Honduras, couples have to be married civilly before they can receive the sacrament of matrimony.) But I’m hoping that we can facilitate their marriages in the next few months. 

A few times I have helped respond to the physical needs of people in the parish. The parish car to take the sick to clinics or hospitals in Santa Rosa (between 45 and 90 minutes) or San Pedro Sula (3 hours away) has been busy, taking two or more trips a week. We have a very attentive driver and so I don’t need to worry about this aspect. 

I have taken supplies once to a family at the suggestion of someone in the aldea, but often the people are finding ways to help others. A family lost their home in a landslide (but escaped safely); the local community has responded and they are constructing a new house in a safer place. 

There have been at least two very serious cases of medical need of two children for medical procedures. The costs are beyond the capability of the families – one was for close to $1000. The people often have been able to get some support from the municipal authorities as well as from the local village church community; thanks to a parish Solidarity Fund, we have been able to provide what was lacking and the children have been attended to. 

 Violence continues in the villages, often due to alcohol or substance abuse or mental illness. I don’t know all the cases and I am almost sure that there has been an increase of domestic violence and sexual abuse. 

We have attended to the needs of one extended family. A woman was brutally killed and left the family with various degrees of trauma. I went and talked with them and then arranged to bring two psychologists from the diocesan office of Caritas to meet with them. The situation worsened with the sudden death of the mother of the woman who was killed. Four adults, three adolescents, and five children have been affected. The psychologists have been able to meet three times with the adults and one of the adolescents. They also met briefly with some of the children. This has been good for the people involved, though some follow up will be needed. 

But this is only the tip of the iceberg of the trauma caused by violence and domestic abuse. We really need to find ways to support people as well as to work for the prevention of violence and abuse. We really need psychological attention at least once a week in the parish as well as formation in dealing with conflict and violence and the prevention of domestic violence and sexual abuse.

Work continues in the parish center with the re-modeling of the center to make it a better place for our many meetings for formation of pastoral workers. Thanks to a donation from someone at St. Thomas Aquinas, we are able to continue this work. 

There has also been continuing work on repairing and repainting the church, much of this financed by fund-raising activities in the parish, including the sale of food on Sunday evenings. This was going strong before the pandemic struck, but in the past few weeks the sale of food continues, but mostly as "carry-out". 

There is one other project, which I wrote about recently – murals for the apse of the church. An artist has been working for almost four weeks and the work is astounding. At the center of the apse will be an image of Mary, based on a Russian icon. 

Beside here will be a few houses and scenes from daily life to show how Mary is with the people and was rooted in the daily life of the poor where she lived. 

We also plan to have four images in the area below the apse. In the center we will have images of two Latin American saints – Saint Rose of Lima (the patroness of our diocese) and Saint Oscar Romero (the martyred archbishop of San Salvador). On the left, we plan an image of the pastor who built the church in Dulce Nombre, Padre Juan Genarro, an Italian missionary. On the left, we plan an image of Saint Lawrence, the martyred deacon who served the poor. The pastor wants this because we are the first parish in our diocese with a permanent deacon (me). I have received offers of assistance from three persons in the US whom I know – without asking for help. 

In the meantime, we need to think about how we can slowly expand our ministry in the parish. It will need to be done carefully, with concern for health. I think that our ministry must be more personal and relational, not focused on large events with lots of people. The pastor and I have spoken about a different way of doing mission – having pastoral work reach out to people where they live, visiting them in their homes. I also think we need to find ways to encourage a spirituality within the families, where the parents have a role in the religious formation of their children. Even catechesis may need to be re-thought – not gathering lots of children together in one place, but having smaller groupings of children in neighborhoods. (This seems to be happening in at least one village.) In addition, this may be an opportune time to renew the base communities, some of which had become large (30 people or more) and were more like celebrations than meetings of a community which could share faith and concerns about daily life. I hope we can promote smaller communities of four or five families.

Thus, we go forward, in the midst of many difficulties, but with hope – and with the determination to be signs of life and love.

Staying home here in Honduras

For the last thirteen years, I’ve visited Iowa in the fall as a way to keep up connections between our parish and the parish of St. Thomas Aquinas in Ames and as a way to reconnect with friends. This year I’m staying home, here in Honduras. 

COVID-19 has changed our lives throughout the world. What do I see? These reflections are anecdotal, but you can find various sources that may help corroborate my observations.

COVID 19 

 Even as the country is opening up there continue to be hundreds of persons identified as COVID-19 positive every day and there have been more than 2500 deaths. 

Most of the cases are in the major cities, the north coast, and in certain municipalities. A friend told me that there is a special cemetery for COVID deaths in La Entrada, with about thirty interred there. La Entrada is a crossroads for transportation and so it has been more in peril than some other large towns.

There have been a number of cases in towns and villages in the parish, though it hasn’t affected Plan Grande where I live. I have heard of two who died with possible complications of COVID, as well as cases of people quarantined and even one young person has been intubated. This is not only in two municipal centers but also in some villages. 

A major problem, as I see it, is the failure of people to take even simple precautions here in the countryside. It’s troubling. I can understand why members of a family don’t wear masks, but I am troubled by the gatherings of people in towns for church services or other events with little concern for preventive measures, such a mask and distancing. 

Another problem, that I’ve mentioned before, is that people don’t want to let others know that they have been tested positive, for fear of being stigmatized. Thus, the number of cases may be undercounted. 

Yet, in the face of this, I have seen photos and reports of political meetings with little concern for health and safety. This may get more problematic as Honduras approaches the internal elections next March to choose the candidates for next November’s elections. (The internal elections are like the party primaries in the US.)

A few weeks ago, I came into Plan Grande and saw a large number of cars parked on the road. I stopped and asked a young man who is my godchild. He told me that is was a political meeting and added that many were without masks. Sure enough. I passed the patio of the house where the meeting was being held. There were more than sixty people there, seated close to each other in rows, with very few masks. Even the political authorities are not taking this seriously. (I wonder where they learned that.)  

Violence 

 There have been a number of cases of violence in the parish in the past two months. 

I am helping bring psychological help from our diocesan Caritas office to one extended family affected by a brutal death of a young woman. 

In at least one case, alcohol abuse seems to have had a role in the killings. Depression, mental illnesses, and drug and alcohol abuse are ills that are not being addressed. I wonder if we really need more regular psychological assistance to people in the countryside. 

In addition, I am sure that there is continuing domestic violence though this is hard to document since there is so often a veil of silence around domestic violence and intra-familiar abuse. 

Rains

We are in the rainy season, which begins in May and goes until early February. 

I feel as if there has been more rain this year than earlier. It also has been very hot during the days and the rains have been heavy. I have heard of several landslides, including at least one that destroyed a home (but, thanks be to God, the family escaped and the community is working together to help them.) 

Partly as a result of the rains and partly as the result of continuing maintenance the roads in our parish are worse than I have seen in three or more years. No wonder that I have had major repairs on the pick-up.

Harvests

The corn harvest is upon us. It seems to be pretty good which is a blessing. If there is sufficient corn, the people will at least have tortillas.

For a few months, the parish has been helping distribute corn and beans from the reserves in the parish. The custom here is for the parish to accept donations of corn and beans, especially for our parish training programs. Since there have been no major meetings in the parish since March, there is sufficient corn and beans to share with those in need.

The coffee harvest season is beginning. I have seen pickers out in a few fields, picking the first ripe berries, most of which are not very good. Later the fields will be ripe with higher quality berries. This will continue until February. A concern is whether there will be sufficient coffee-pickers, due to the corona virus. In our area a number of large coffee growers bring in Guatemalans to pick in their plantations. I wonder if this will be possible this year.

I'll be going down to the parish coffee field this week to take a few photos.

Pastoral life 

I’ll address these issues in a later post.

Update on the parish of Dulce Nombre

Honduras has been on a curfew and lock down since March 16. It has gone through various phases – at first only once a week; then, once every two weeks; now, once every ten days (depending on the last number of your official ID).

Schools are closed, although in some places teachers come out once a week with tasks for the kids. This has created major challenges since most people don’t have internet access. Even having students do work at home can be a challenge, since there are many parents who have had limited formal education. A neighbor has been doing school work with some kids and I am delighted to hear her having the kids work on their letters.

Some older young people have limited access to smart phones and a very few have tablets or computers. One I saw a young man working on his high school classes at home. I think he was in one of the Maestro en Casa schools that St. Thomas has helped fund.

There has been no public transportation nor even taxi service in the cities and towns until very recently; now there is very limited public transport (between the major cities). Transport by private vehicle is limited. Until two weeks ago, there was to be no circulation of cars on Saturdays and Sundays and only once every two weeks depending on your ID number.

This, of course, has affected pastoral work in the parish. People cannot get out.

The government has put major limits on public assemblies and so, for several months, it was not permitted to have public Masses or Celebrations of the Word. Some people still did have them, though I think this was imprudent, especially since there was little adherence to health safety protocols. Except for a few funeral services I did not go out.

I did go out twice with the local government efforts to bring some basic foodstuffs to the communities.

The parish has assisted some families that still have needs for food and basic supplies. Also, the parish has been distributing corn and beans to families in need. (For years people have donated corn and beans to the parish to help in feeding people who come for parish formation activities, as well as for those in need. Since there are no parish meetings, there are moe basic grains available for those in need.

In June the bishops’ conference put out protocols for public Masses and so I began to participate in the Sunday Celebrations of the Word here in Plan Grande, partly because they were trying to practice some safety measures. Soon, I found out that though use of masks was mandated by the government (and the church), some people didn’t have masks, even though the government claims to have distributed several million masks. I decided to purchase several hundred masks to have available for folks.

Masses in the main church in Dulce Nombre have sometimes been broadcast over Facebook. In other communities, some people have sought out Masses on the television from one or two Catholic stations. The pastor has gone out to several communities on Sundays for Mass.

Protocols on the door of the main church in Dulce Nombre.

Religious formation has been restricted because of the difficulties of observing basic safety measures, especially with kids. However, we are beginning to open up the possibility of receiving the sacraments for those who had almost completed the formation. This particularly is affecting a good number of couples (20 or more) who had been in the middle of their pre-marriage classes. I originally had more than six interviews of couples scheduled for the first week of the curfew. They have, been postponed.

I have met with catechists in one major town where there are six catechumens who were preparing for baptism at the Easter Vigil. I hope to be able to meet with other catechists to see what we can do. I also started a Facebook group for catechists to try to do a little formation on line.

One of my concerns is that we need to provide materials and assistance for families. I’m planning to prepare a book on the Rosary to promote praying the Rosary in families, especially in the month of October.

In July I got letters from three of the local mayors to ease travelling around. Then I got a safe-conduct pass from the government, in my role as a member of the clergy. I then began to go out to several communities for the last pre-marriage interviews as well as for some formation on baptism or communion for those who had not received these sacraments. I also have gone out twice for baptisms.

I also assisted at the wedding of five couples in a distant village.

Several times I have gone out to visit people in difficult situations. Twice I arranged to deliver medicine. Several times I’ve visited the sick. And then there are the funerals. Friday, the pastor asked me to go to a funeral of a two month old infant; it was very difficult since the mother was severely traumatized.

I’ve also gone out a few times just to listen to some people who need accompaniment. In one case I arranged for a phone visit of the troubled person with a psychologist from the diocesan Caritas office. Yesterday I went out and talked to members of a family who have experienced a traumatic killing of a woman. I will be trying to talk with some folks to see what can be done to get them some professional help. The need for professional psychological help is becoming ever more apparent. We need to think of what can be done to provide places where people can be listened to and begin a process of healing.

The health situation continues to be problematic. The Honduran health system was extremely poor before the pandemic, but it has been stretched to its limits. Even the Secretariat of Health speaks about a broken system. This is exacerbated by ineptitude and inefficiency on the part of the government and the failure to pass on reliable information. The number of tests is limited and there seems to be some problems (including the disappearance of some thousands of tests.) And then there is the corruption. Millions of dollars of aid have supposedly been given to Honduras; field hospitals and respirators have supposedly been purchased, but some of them have not been delivered, others are not the right equipment or are defective; the prices paid have been extremely high in some cases, which leads many of us to suspect that there is wide-spread corruption. It has gotten so bad that people have taken to writing on the streets: “Where’s the money? We demand it.”

The pandemic has mostly affected the large cities and the north coast. The drastic measures have perhaps slowed the spread to other areas, though there are a good number of cases in the department of Copan where I lived, especially in the cities of La Entrada, Copán Ruinas, Cucuyagua, and Santa Rosa de Copán. There are cases in the main town of the parish, Dulce Nombre de Copán, as well as in one aldea.

But many people don’t seem to see that this is a serious problem, going about without masks. A further problem is the stigmatization of those who are COVID-19 positive. To avoid this, some people have hidden the fact that family members have tested positive.

In the midst of this the pastor has had people working on the church grounds in Dulce Nombre, repainting the church, repairing some structures, and more. We hope to have a muralist paint the apse of the church when he can get here from Tegucigalpa.

Where so de go from here? We're still trying to find our way.

I’ll try to write more on this in a week or two.

In the meantime, let us keep each other in prayer.

Recognizing our vulnerability

A few weeks ago a priest I know put a meme on his Facebook page – Situación post-Pandemia: “volveremos... y seremos más fuertes” The situation after the pandemic: “We will come back – and we will be stronger.” I commented, “Mejor - volveremos más conscientes de nuestra vulnerabilidad”. Better – we will come back, but more conscious of our vulnerability.”

The pandemic, the racism, the derecho in the Mid-West, and more are, I believe, signs of a spiritual crisis.

First of all, we are afraid of our vulnerability. We are afraid that we are not in control. We are afraid because we feel powerless.

This year, even before the pandemic, I was thinking about my vulnerability. I don’t like to think about it. Like some people, I like to think that I’ve got everything under control.

Last year a Guatemalan who was here with his family working in a nearby community began to drop by. His family had lots of needs, including an infant who was sick. I helped as I could. One evening early in January he visited me and told me about his situation. He was planning to go back to Guatemala for medical care for his infant son.. I gave him some Quetzales I had and a few Lempiras.

The next day I wrote this in my diary:

“During Mass, I recognized that I felt powerless in this situation. That is not bad; in fact, it might be the best and most spiritually healthy response. I cannot solve the problem – but I can be with those in desperate straits, commending them and me to God. In my weakness, God can work.”

About two weeks later, on a Thursday morning, someone broke into the sisters’ convent in Dulce Nombre, stole a ciborium, and scattered the consecrated hosts on the ground. I led a prayer in the morning and then, since there was no priest available, I led a Celebration of the Word with Communion in the evening. In my homily I reflected on the vulnerability of Christ in the Eucharist. Nothing is more vulnerable than a small piece of bread, even when this bread is the Body of Christ. And Jesus is God made flesh, God made vulnerable, even unto death.

In the midst of all this I was going through some personal difficulties. I was feeling isolated. I felt that decisions were being made that affected me and no one spoke to me about them. I faced situations where I was not in control.

At the end of the month, the day after I met on Skype with my spiritual director, I came home to a truck load of sand blocking the way to my house. I was frustrated; another case of people doing things that affect others and not saying anything. I remembered what my director had just told me: when you feel frustrated at the injustice you perceive or the lack of consultation, remember the poor – how they suffer and are treated. My vulnerability and lack of control is nothing compared to what the poor suffer every day.

A few days later, at the beginning of March, I was in a meeting where someone in authority spoke for more than an hour and a half, pure stream of consciousness. I recalled what my director had said. I recognized that what I’m experiencing is almost nothing in comparison with what the people suffer. I felt deep compassion with the people in the aldeas.  The oppressive, demeaning approach, the neglect I feel from some authorities is nothing compared to what the poor suffer. As I wrote in my journal, “I’m learning from identifying with the poor.”

This has sustained me and helped me to live in the isolation of the quarantine.

In the midst of vulnerability, I believe, as I wrote on Easter Monday:

We are experiencing the insecurity which the poor suffer all the time.
How will we respond?
How do we respond?
How do the poor respond? – resignation, resentment, organization, solidarity.
Will we isolate ourselves and try to live as secure, separated atoms, or will we build the community of solidarity?

Wearing a mask reminds us that we are vulnerable. I believe that many who refuse to wear masks may be motivated by the fear of looking vulnerable. Isn’t it paradoxical that some of those who refuse to wear masks, which they say reflect fear, carry not only pistols but more powerful weapons. What are they afraid of?

And when people come out in peaceful demonstrations, demanding justice, why do governments respond with massive displays of tear gas and violent force?

A few days ago, some people, fed up with the corruption in the abuse of money meant to aid in the pandemic, came out at night and painted a major highway in Tegucigalpa with the slogan: “¿Dónde está el dinero?” – Where’s the money?

The government reacted. They tried to cover up the slogan and then they tried to blot it out using burnt motor oil. That didn’t work. And people came out and repainted the slogan – in broad daylight.

The seemingly powerful are afraid of their vulnerability.

I wonder if some of those who came out against the Black Lives Matter demonstrations act because they are afraid of their powerlessness, which is not due to any black mobilization but to a government and economy that don’t care for the poor, not matter what race. Pitting the poor against the poor is often a tactic of the powers that be.

(Note, I am speaking about the people who came out to denounce the racism, not any organization.)

Just this week a derecho, a storm with intense winds, devastated Iowa and other parts of the Mid-West. Buildings collapsed, trees fell. Some people have been without electricity for more than three days.

 We are afraid of our vulnerability.

We are afraid that we will be like the poor.

We forget that God’s strength is made perfect in weakness. (Cf. 2 Corinthians 12: 8-10.} And the words of the psalmist make no sense to us: “The helpless entrust themselves to you, for You are the helper of orphans.” (Cf. Psalm 10: 14.)

We have a spiritual crisis – we don’t want to remember that we are human, incomplete, vulnerable. We want to be like gods.

Beware. Beware of thinking that we can go back to the way things were before. Beware of thinking we can come out of this “stronger.”

I fear that if we are not aware of our vulnerability, we are in for some serious problems – personally, socially, and politically.

If we think we can get out of this alone, we are gravely mistaken. 

I learned this just this week. The connection to my battery melted and I was stuck. But someone came out, found a new connector and helped me get the car started - and refused any money! We need more people like this man.

Above all, what we need is solidarity, recognizing that we are in this together. 

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Thanks to two friends inIowa who gave me permission to use their Facebook pictures.

Getting into good trouble – looking good on wood

Soon after the death of John Lewis, the civil rights leader and US congressman, I came across this tweet of his from June 2018:

"Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble."

I agree completely and I may have said something similar to some people I know and love. If we truly try to follow Christ and serve our sisters and brothers, we’ll get into trouble. One of my favorite quotes of Fr. Dan Berrigan, SJ, is, “If you want to follow Jesus, you had better look good on wood.”

When I look at my ministry here in Honduras, it’s pretty safe. I’m not likely to have too many problems. After all, the mayor lives up the road from me, I am privileged as a member of the Catholic clergy, I am a US citizen, I am careful in what I say.

In some ways, I’m glad I’m here. I think that if I were living in the US today I might find myself in some very difficult situations. How can an advocate of nonviolence, a devotee of Dorothy Day and Martin Luther King, not get into trouble? How can one who looks to the witness of people against the Nazis, like Franz Jägerstätter and Alfred Delp, SJ, not speak up and act in the face of injustice, racism, and the militarization of a country?

(By the way, if you get a chance, watch A Hidden Life, a nearly three hour film on Blessed Franz Jägerstätter.)

But I’m here in Honduras and I’m reluctant to speak out too boldly against policies of the

US or Honduran government unless I’m ready to put my life on the line.

I’m not sure what I need to do in the long run, but now, facing the poverty of the people brought on by oppressive policies, facing the desperation of some in the light of the pandemic and the effects of the shut-down, perhaps the most important thing I can do is to be here, accompanying the people. After all, Dan Berrigan once said, “Don’t just do something. Stand there.”

And so I’m trying to stand here, in the midst of a pandemic, in the midst of a quarantine and a shut down that affects the people especially the poor.

Most people can go out in their vehicles, or go to banks, grocery stores, restaurants, and even pharmacies only once every two weeks, depending on the last number of our identity cards. No one is supposed to circulate on Saturdays and Sundays.

A few weeks ago I got letters from three of the mayors in our parish asking police and military authorities to let me pass by when I am travelling for pastoral activities. Two weeks ago, unsolicited, I got a salvo conducto that the Honduran Catholic Church had sought for the clergy. I can go out from Monday to Friday for pastoral work in the five departments of our diocese.

Most of the people I know do not have this and probably cannot obtain a salvo conducto. It is thus very difficult for most people to get medicine or take people to clinics without running through hoops.

I try not to abuse this and have gone out in the past few weeks for pastoral work, mostly dealing with young couples seeking to be married who had begun their pre-marriage formation before the quarantine began in March. There are six couples in one village, about an hour from my house by car. Some have not received their First Communion and two have not been baptized. So I went out this Wednesday to spend about two hours with them, helping them prepare for the sacraments. It was, for me, a very good experience, even though not all came. The challenge is to help people understand their faith in terms that make sense to them and their lives.

I also went out to one community to do an interview. There was some confusion on the time and so I got there late – after the couple called me. But it was good. As I left one of the witnesses at the interview asked me to pray for her father who was ill; among the problems was that he hadn’t been able to sleep for five nights! I told him I’d pray and also promised to go, visit him, and bring him communion, if he wanted.

She called me and asked me to come out Monday. I was most happy to go, even though I had to leave home at 7:00 am to get there. I visited the man who was ill, who has been a delegate of the Word for decades. I shared Communion with him and with some of his family. Someone told me that the husband of a couple I’d visited several times was ill and so we went there.

The roads to get to the house were terrible. After visiting and then sharing Communion with the couple, I went out and saw a cat sitting in the window of my car – hitching a ride, I joked.

 On the return trip I went too far over to the left  on the one lane "road" and got stuck in the mud. Even with four-wheel drive I couldn’t get out. Someone came along and tried digging out the tires a bit; when that didn’t work someone put rocks under the front tires and finally we got out. The lesson is: don’t go too far to the right or the left on a muddy road. I probably should think about getting chains.

Next week I’ll be going to another community for pre-marriage interviews. Since the road to the community where the couple lives is inaccessible even with four-wheel drive, we’ll meet in a neighboring village.

There are probably about twelve or thirteen more couples whom I need to interview with their witnesses. This year we have had an abundance of people seeking the sacrament of matrimony. This gives me great joy.

I began a new initiative for catechists this Sunday. I’ve noted that some of the catechists have Facebook accounts. I decided to set up a Facebook group for them, posting several days a week on topics that might help them. I’ll see how this goes – and try to make sure that I am faithful in this. My idea is to do something on a Sunday reading on Sunday. Something about Jesus on Monday. Wednesday I’ll post an image of Christ or the saints, trying to use art that might stretch their imagination. Fridays, I’ll have something on prayers. The other days I’m thinking about specific topics on themes for religious education as well as lives of the saints.

Last Wednesday, Fernando, the seminarian in the parish these past few months received the ministry of acolyte. The bishop came, as well as some of Fernando’s family. It was good to assist at Mass as well as visit with the bishop at a meal.

I have also been reading a lot – including a few mystery novels. I read Henri Nouwen’s Clowning in Rome for the first time and found it very helpful for my personal growth and my understanding of ministry.

I have also been active on several conferences.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, there were four mornings on COVID and corruption in Honduras. The quality of the presentations was mixed, though two of them have helped me to being thinking about how I might better respond to what is happening and prepare for the future.

I also participated in two Zoom sessions with the sisters and associates of the Dubuque Franciscans. They are having a chapter in November but are seeking input and involving associates in the process. There was one on English on last Tuesday and one in Spanish last Saturday. It was great to connect with the sisters as well as with the other Central American associates. Being connected with these sisters has been somewhat of a lifeline for me. They are an inspiration, especially the sisters here in Honduras. I regularly talk with one or two of them which is good for me in many ways.

I also spoke via Zoom to a student of a good friend of mine, Erlin Johnny, who has an English institute in Santa Rosa. The topic was conflict and I used some of the materials I had used for workshops in Spanish. It was a bit strange trying to do this in English!

I have also been participating in a weekly discussion of Catholic social teaching with a group of folks in Alabama. It’s been good to re-read some of the early documents.

And I've been cooking. I made the best eggplant parmesan I've ever made. I shared a bit with the pastor who found it good. I've also made potato salad and tabouleh. And I have lots of fresh tomatoes from a farmer neighbor.

August is upon us. August 10 is the feast of the deacon, Saint Lawrence. I hope to write something on the diaconate for the first ten days of the month. If you have any suggestions of themes, let me know

If you have gotten this far, thanks. I’ll write more later.

God bless – and wash your hands.

Let us pray for each other.

And take time to thank God for the beauty that is all around us. It may give us the strength to take up the cross and struggle for life and justice.

... even as the rain clouds come in.