HONDURAN CAMPESINOS, RETIRED FRANCISCAN SISTERS, CLARENCE JORDAN, AND THE PALM SUNDAY MULE

Tomorrow is the feast of Christ the King, but I’ve had the Gospel story of Jesus entering Jerusalem on my mind.

Palm Sunday 2015

Part of my ministry in the parish is training of catechists.

A few years ago, I did each training session in each of the four zones of the parish. Five years ago, I did the first of the sessions in the mountain village of Delicias Concepción. An account of that experience can also be found here.

Because many catechists and pastoral workers have been taught scripture in very limited ways, I often try different ways of reading and praying scripture. They are used to looking for moral guidance in the readings or doctrinal affirmations or literal accounts.

Often I try the imaginative contemplative reading in the style of Saint Ignatius of Loyola. I read the passage one or more times, leaving time for quiet. I urge the catechists to try to put themselves in the narrative and pay attention to their senses – what they hear, see, small, taste, feel physically as well as how they feel emotionally. Then, after some time of quiet, I ask them to share with one or two others. Afterwards I invite several to share their experience.

That day I used the Palm Sunday accounts, reading the Gospel three times (each time from a different evangelist).

When I asked some to share, one young man noted that he had been afraid for Jesus. Jesus was going to sit on a mule that had never been mounted before. As a campesino, he knew what usually happens: the animal bolts and the person ends up on the ground. But when this did not happen to Jesus, he was relieved.

I never had heard such a reading and continue to be amazed at the wisdom of this young man and the implications this has on our understanding of Jesus. (I’ll get to this later.)

A few months later, I was in Iowa and was asked to give a presentation for the retired sisters at the motherhouse of the Dubuque Franciscans, several of whom I have known from their ministry in El Salvador and in Honduras.

At the end of my presentation, which was pretty grim, given the situation of Honduras at that time, one sister asked me if there was anything that gives me hope. I immediately thought of this bible reading and shared the story.

When I got to the point of the young man’s concern for Jesus’s safety with the untamed donkey, I heard chuckles throughout the room. Probably most of the women in that room had been raised on Iowa farms and knew what happens when you try to sit on an untamed beast.

A retired priest who is a published biblical scholar and former professor at Loras College was in the room, since he serves the sisters. I asked him if he ever heard any scholarly note of this. He hadn’t.

But this past week, I found one Baptist biblical scholar who did. Clarence Jordan, the founder with his wife and others of Koinonia Farms in Georgia, had degrees in Agriculture and theology. He did Cotton Patch translations of the Gospels, placing Jesus in Georgia. 

Koinonia Farms is an interracial community that has sought to live the Gospel in a unique way and has suffered for their witness. 

 Last week, I finished reading a book of selections of his writings published by Plough Publishing, an arm of the Bruderhof, The Inconvenient Gospel: A Southern Prophet Tackles War, Wealth, Race, and Religion, edited by Frederick L. Downing.

The book is a delight and inspiring. But the real surprise was his chapter “Jesus, Leader of the Poor.” In it, he retells the Palm Sunday event as a great demonstration:

So he gathered together a great crowd of these poor people and then told his disciples he was going to lead the demonstration. He said, “I need something to ride on.” Now, this is interesting! Anyone who is going to enter the city as the king usually gets himself a big, white Arabian steed. We would expect Jesus to say, “You all go up to Tyre or Nineveh and get me one of those fine Arabian stallions – I want to do this thing up right!” But do you know what he said to his disciples? “I want you to go into the village there and get me a mule.” And he said, “I want you to get me one on which no one has ever sat” (Mark 11:2). Now Jesus must have been a real man to ask for that kind of mule! I tried once to sit on “a mule whereon no man had ever sat” and when I got through with him he was still “a mule whereon no man had ever sat!” But Jesus could ride that mule. The mule was the symbol of the lowly, the working classes, the toiling people.

Raised on a farm, living on a farm, he knew what happens when you try to sit on “a mule whereon no man had ever sat.”

The Honduran campesinos, the retired Franciscan sisters, and a Baptist preacher got what almost no scripture scholar had ever noticed. I am floored! 

But, as I reflect on the Palm Sunday story, I begin to see that what Jesus did that day was not just announce the coming of the Reign of God; he lived it and made it real.

In the Reign of God, there is peace and harmony in the world. The Reign of God is a restoration of the harmony in the Garden of Eden. The Reign of God is the prophecy of the Peaceable Kingdom of Isaiah 11 made real. The Reign of God is the way that Jesus was "with the wild beasts" in the desert (Mark 1).

The will of God is this peace and harmony.

Jesus makes this real and we are called to make it real.

But it is not brought about by arms and violence. Jesus enters Jerusalem, knowing that many were planning to kill him. But he enters unarmed, not on a war horse but on a donkey, a mule, an ass.

In his simplicity, in his vulnerability he saves us and shows us the way to live in the Reign of God, on earth as in heaven. 

 All this has been going through my mind as I prepared for our parish celebration of Christ the King tomorrow.

Christ the King, November 2015

A few weeks ago, Father German noted how the image of Christ the King central to the understanding of most people is that of a dominating ruler, whose word is law. Instead, he noted, we must look to Christ the servant. We’ll try to offer a different vision tomorrow.

I will give the opening marks for our procession before Mass, centered on Christ the Servant King, who brings victory by his service, his commitment even to the cross, and his love. You can read my draft in Spanish here. I hope I have time to translate it.

But above all, I pray that this message of the servant king, who enters the city on a mule, and shows us the Reign of God, a reign of justice love and peace, will transform all of our hearts, here in the parish and in the world – especially in the Church.

As I prepared for Christ the King Sunday, I came across this quotation from the address of Pope Francis to the Bishops of Mexico on February 13, 2006:

Above all, la Virgen Morenita teaches us that the only power capable of conquering the hearts of men and women is the tenderness of God. That which delights and attracts, that which humbles and overcomes, that which opens and unleashes, is not the power of instruments or the force of law, but rather the omnipotent weakness of divine love, which is the irresistible force of its gentleness and the irrevocable pledge of its mercy.

May “the omnipotent weakness of divine love” empower us to be instruments of our servant King in this world in so need of love and justice.

SERVANT MINISTRY

Introductory note: I wanted to share two events that happened in the past few days. After I finished, I realized that they have to do with trying to be a servant, being images of Christ the Servant to the world. 

 Friday we had another training for Delegates of the Word, those who lead Sunday Celebrations in the absence of a priest so that people can come together and worship. There were about ninety participants. 

During the first part of the morning Padre German led the group in the retreat in the training manual for delegates. 

After a break, I went aside with about eighteen women and men aspiring to become delegates. I am very encouraged that almost all are young. We need new blood in this important ministry. 

Padre German asked me to work with them on basic church teaching and to start with examining them. Being a rebel, I decided to do the exam differently. They divided into groups. I asked a question which they were supposed to answer in the group and then we’d discuss it. This broke down when people began to just shout out a response and then we discussed the response.

But Padre German had the more difficult task with the delegates, some of whom have served for more than twenty-five years. 

 About a week ago the shared with me a concern about our annual celebration of Christ the King.

The tradition here is to get the whole parish together for Mass, often preceded by music and presentations, at times with a procession. The feast of Christ the King is also the day to honor the Delegates of the Word.

Father was concerned that we give an image of Christ as a king, who lords it over others, dominates, has the last word, and is the supreme leader.

I too share this concern. When I discuss our baptism into Christ - Prophet, Priest, and King, I almost always say King/Servant. 

A problem is that emphasizing this image  of a worldly king on the Day of the Delegate of the Word may give the message that the delegate is to be the one who makes the decisions. I have even heard of a delegate who said something to the effect that the pastor rules in the parish, but he’s there; I rule here. 

And some think clericalism is just something that has to do with priests. Clericalism runs deep in a patriarchal society and the notion of a privileged caste in the institutional church.

Don’t get me started. But, if you want to read more, I highly recommend Clericalism: The Death of Priesthood, by George B. Wilson, S.J.

Anyway, Padre German spent time trying to elicit from the delegates another way of looking at Christ the King – gentle, suffering, servant, humble.

We’ll be trying to emphasize these images for the feast. 

Today, Sunday, I was supposed to pick up a group of people from Ames, Iowa, connected with the group importing coffee from an association in our parish. They are also connected with our sister parish, Saint Thomas Aquinas in Ames. 

 I was late leaving home for the airport (three and a half hours away) when I got a WhatsApp message that they had only twenty minutes to get to their second flight because of delays due to fog.

A few minutes later, there was another message – they had to rebook their flight.

So, I stayed in Plan Grande.

Tomorrow I’ll pick them up and be with them until next Sunday. 

In the meantime, this morning, the pastor had called me to ask if I could assist at a funeral this afternoon.

I finally tracked down the people concerned and went for the two o’clock funeral.

I wasn’t as prepared as I usually want to be. I almost forget the books and my vestments and when I arrived there I realized I had only green vestments – for hope, as I explained to the people gathered at the family home. 

 The house was poor and up a path where only motorcycles could enter.

The woman who died, whose husband had died two years ago, was in her seventies. They had twelve children, only two of them women. Most were there, together with lots of kids and friends. 

I was moved by the presence of kids around the table we used for an altar, just outside the tiny room where the coffin was. They were attentive as I put on my vestments, as I explained to them a little of what they meant. 

The Celebration went well, and God provided me with what seemed like the right words. People seemed attentive. 

I was also surprised and grateful that so many came forward for communion. 

At the end of the celebration, I asked the adult children to come into the house for the final rites of sending – saying goodbye. La despedida. 

Then they carried the coffin to a pick up to begin the procession to the cemetery.

What a privilege to be able to share with these people, to offer them a few words which I hope will give them courage and consolation. This gives me joy. 

Just a last note. People usually give the priest who comes for a Mass a donation to cover fuel. They ask me and I try to decline. But today one of the sons insisted on handing me a two hundred lempira note, which, I told him, I will put into the parish solidarity fund for the poor. He insisted. How can I refuse?

Hope in times of trouble

“Hope is always just about to turn into despair, but never does so; for at the moment of supreme crisis, God’s power is suddenly made perfect in our weakness. So we learn to expect His mercy most calmly when all is most dangerous, to seek Him quietly in the face of danger, certain that He cannot fail us....”

 Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island 

In the midst of the pain, the suffering, the violence, the neglect of the poor, the corruption and governmental incompetence, I have seen signs of hope. I want to share a few of them. 

CHRIST THE KING

Though I have concerns about the possible health consequences of a large gathering, I could not help but rejoice at the more than 800 people who showed up for the parish’s Christ the King celebration yesterday – even though we did not do as much promotion as in previous before the pandemic.

What struck me was the hidden work of preparation of the place where we gathered (a new auditorium where we used to have a poorly used soccer field). Some women got up at 5 am to get to the parish to make tortillas and freshly squeezed orange juice. There were also the women (from Plan Grande) who prepared enough rice with chicken and brought it.

PARISH COFFEE FIELD

On November 1, parishioners from several parts of the parish came out to do the first harvest of coffee, as well as to do some weeding. They worked really efficiently and had everything done by early afternoon. (In contrast, last year it took almost three days.)

BAPTISMS

The day before the celebration, after the parish council meeting, I told the pastor that I was available if he needed anything. 

He had scheduled nine baptisms in a rural village, El Limón, but had many responsibilities to prepare for the feast day Mass. So he sent me – for nine baptisms of children under seven years. The small church was packed. 

As I began the baptisms (which were celebrated within a Celebration of the Word with Communion), I noticed that the parents and godparents were very responsive. At times I can hardly hear the godparents and parents, but here they were responding loud and clear. There were are few kids about five years old who were very responsive – when we have the parents and sponsors raise their right hands during the profession of faith, the kids also raised theirs.

There are 18 baptisms next Saturday in Plan Grande where I live. I hope they are as responsive.

HONDURAS AMIGAS 

Amigas is a Missouri-based medical group that has been coming to our area for many years. Because of the pandemic they haven’t been here for two years but decided to make a short trip here. Before they came here, they attended people in La Lima, Cortes, which had been devastated a year ago by Hurricanes Eta and Iota. They visited two places during this visit but almost 1000 people were seen. They also left medicines for a local public health center. 

REBUILDING

People are still doing some rebuilding after last year’s hurricanes and for other reasons. 

The parish has a solidarity fund to help. The money comes from various sources, including some donations from our sister parish, St. Thomas Aquinas in Ames, Iowa.

Perhaps I am a little too first-world, but our policy is to supplement what the family and the community can do. I ask that each community helps in some way with the needs of their own members; in this way I think the fund can help foster a sense of solidarity. Some communities are very good in this; some have established their own village or sector solidarity funds; others help by collections or fund-raising events; others help by volunteer labor on the houses.

This month we have helped two families – with cement, tin roofing, and other details.

ASAMBLEA ECLESIAL

Today the Latin American Church opens the Church Assembly in Mexico. There are about 1000 participants – only 100 in person, the rest by Zoom.

The Assembly was preceded by consultations – hearings – in dioceses throughout Latin America. In our diocese we had hearings in the parishes.

In our parish we held hearings in the sectors of the parish as well as with some other groups. They were analyzed and summarized. 

I had a role in compiling both the parish and diocesan summaries. It was fascinating to read what the people had said. I also tried to assure that the parish and diocesan summaries reflected what the people had said and were not “interpreted” by those compiling the results. It was good to hear in the diocesan assembly one of the priests saying that the summary reflected what he had heard in his parish!

DIOCESAN ASSEMBLY

Last week we had a three day diocesan assembly with clergy and representatives from the parishes of the diocese as well as from some movements. It went fairly well. Today, the diocesan pastoral council is meeting to produce a final document.

ELECTIONS

Next Sunday Hondurans will go to the polls to elect the president, the members of the national congress, and the mayors. It’s been a very conflictive campaign, including persons killed and wounded. There are also real concerns about possible irregularities and fraud. The last week or so, especially the last weekend, there have been noisy party assemblies and car caravans as a way to close the campaign. (There should be no public campaigning this week.)

I saw one mayoral candidate at the Christ the King Mass. I have known him for several years. I asked him if he was going to have an event to close the campaign. He said no – because of his concern that it might be dangerous. I think he may have even been offered funding for an event. I’m impressed.

UPCOMING

This Friday we’ll have another meeting of the catechists who are preparing people for confirmation, hopefully in February. We will have close to 500 confirmed. Because of health concerns, we will have the Masses in 6 or 7 places; the bishop also has asked that only parents and godparents be present. 

We will have the rite of entry into the catechumenate on Sunday, December 5, in the main church. There are about 44 preparing to be baptized at next year’s Easter Vigil. We usually have the rite on the first Sunday of Advent but. We’ve changed the date because of elections on that day.

PERSONAL

On a personal note, I’ll be having a Thanksgiving meal on Wednesday with the Dubuque Franciscan Sisters at their Gracias house. It will be a great joy to be with them. I still don’t know what I’ll bring – probably bread and/or cinnamon rolls.

We have had a good number of people migrate from our parish – and almost every Sunday we pray for people on the road. The pastor and I are very concerned, especially since we hear of kidnappings and other dangers the people face. Also, neither of us have really good information on what exactly is the US policy and what happens at the border.

I read about a border immersion in December organized by Maryknoll. I decided to go, in order to get a first-hand look at what is happening at the border. I’ll be with them in El Paso and Ciudad Juarez from December 8 to 15.

I’ll get back just in time for our parish assembly – and planning meeting on December 17-18.

The other news is that the pastor of our sister-parish, St. Thomas Aquinas in Ames, is planning to visit us in early January. 

Please keep us in your prayers.

I’ll be posting on these events as they happen.

Touching with hope

It has taken me some time to adapt to some aspects of the Catholic religious culture of Honduras. 

There are some things that I will probably never get used to – and a few with some good theological and pastoral reasons. But there is one that I first reacted to somewhat negatively but which I have begun to understand differently.

At times, after adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, the priest walks through the assembly with the monstrance, the fireburst metal vessel which bears the consecrated host in the center. As he passes many reach out to touch the monstrance. 

My first reaction years ago was very mixed. I recognized the devotion to the Eucharistic presence of Jesus in the host, but I wondered whether it was almost a substitute for communion or just a type of magical piety.

But two years ago, on the feast of Christ the King, the pastor asked me to carry the monstrance through the crowd, halfway through the crowd. I wrote about it two years ago here.

This year the pastor had me carry the monstrance through the whole crowd. Again I was filled with emotion as young and old, men and women, children and young people, reached out to touch the monstrance. Again, I thought of the pain and suffering of the people reaching out for some healing. Then I thought of the Gospel story of the woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years. She knew that there was something about this Jesus who was passing through. So, she reached out to touch the hem of His garment. And she was healed. (Mark 5: 25-34) The people who reached out are searching for the Presence of One in their midst who will take on their sufferings.

I could only respond humbly, aware of their great faith, looking around and stopping when I saw someone wishing to touch the monstrance, stooping when a little child reached out.

May Jesus heal us.

But the nation of Honduras needs to be healed and so we had someone read the recent statement on the coming elections by the Honduran Bishops. Here a short selection that I translated.

We ask the people to overcome sentiments of indifference, apathy, and skepticism, brought on by our deficient system of government and its institutions, and which result in absenteeism. 

We, the bishops of the Honduran Bishops Conference, make an urgent call for you to go and vote, with responsibility and liberty. Our country is living through momentous and significant times. Therefore, we urge you to give you vote to the best candidates, with the best personal, familiar, and social profile, who are honest candidates, responsible and sensitive to the needs of the people, who participate in good politics, in favor of life and the family. This is to say: elect those candidates who, like you, think in favor pf a better future for your children. 

If you discover that you have in your hands the potential to aid the good of our fatherland and change the ineffective and unproductive direction that we have as a nation, you will take into account that your vote is sacred and that you cannot give it to someone who does not deserve it. 

Honduras does not deserve you voting for those who want to destroy it and seek to gain the elections “as it happens” [a como dé lugar], including fraudulent and deceitful actions. Elect candidates who are not stained with corruption, organized crime, and drug trafficking which have damaged the population so much. Be careful with the call of some candidates to “vote a straight ticket” [votar en plancha], which means renouncing the capability to elect conscientiously, as a fruit of a profound reflection. 

The electors should not be part of a fraud, for no reason at all and in no circumstance whatever, nor should they approve or consent to abuses of power, like the ones that happened in the last electoral processes: you have to live the electoral process as a true civic festival, during and after the elections. 

As Bishops and pastors, we feel obligated to make a call to the consciences of all citizens to be objective observers of the electoral process, in order to avoid any irregularity, and, if there are any, to know how to denounce them.

 

The hope of Christ the King

“¿Se emocionó?” Padre German asked me after today’s celebration of the feast of Christ the King in the parish. “Did you get emotional, while carrying the monstrance through the crowd after the Mass for Christ the King in Dolores, Copán.

I didn’t answer, but he was right. I was touched deeply.

A custom here is to have a procession of the Eucharist in a monstrance on some occasions, especially here in our parish after the Mass for the feast of Christ the King. During the procession, people approach and touch the monstrance, seeking a physical connection with Christ.

I must admit that I have often been a bit skeptical about this aspect of the popular piety here, but today change that for me.

Toward the end of Mass, Padre German asked me if I wanted to carry the monstrance. I said that he should go first and then I would relieve him.

He started the procession through the crowd and I followed. At one point a little kid stood on a chair and reached out and touched the monstrance. He then turned around and gave me a hug. Emerson reached out a second time and I caught it in a photo.

I followed the monstrance, at time trying to open up a space for people who wanted to approach the monstrance but, because of the crowd or because they were a little timid, had a hard time getting close.

Padre then passed the monstrance to me and I continued the procession.

As they pressed on the monstrance, I could feel a deep longing for God. I also felt that they were bringing their suffering to Christ and sought his comfort and courage. I saw little kids reaching out – sometimes without the urging of their parents. I saw one short older woman approaching and bent down so she could be close to the luna where the host is placed. I sensed a deep desire to connect and so brought it closer to her and she kissed it.

I was floored, at times close to tears. So many, suffering so much, seek to touch God.

It was humbling, seeing their faith – babies in arms, older women and men, kids, adolescents, and young people.

As I think back this evening, I see this as a call to deepen my diaconal presence among them. How can I share in their pain and suffering, as well as their joys? How can I help them recognize the presence of a loving and tender God among them? How can I accompany them, opening them (and me) to the dignity we have and our mission to show forth the reign of Christ in a world full of all too much pain, suffering, poverty, injustice?

As if to ratify this, as I sat at home at the computer, I heard it raining, but I looked out and the sun was shining to the south of the house. I went upstairs and looked east – to see a rainbow which started in a nearby valley.

There is hope – the Eucharist, the people suffering, and a rainbow make that clear.

Celebrating Christ the King

The feast of Christ the King is a big celebration in our parish.

For many years we have had a morning Mass for all the parish in one of the towns or villages of the parish. In the past few years, these have included processions to the site of the Mass.

This year the Mass was held near the village of Plan Grande, where I live. It started about 9 pm with processions from two parts of the parish with people singing and praying along the way – with marching bands (which here they unfortunately call “Bandas de guerra” – war bands.)

The Mass this year was preceded by adoration of the Eucharist. After Padre German offered some prayers, he invited the Delegate of the Word present to offer a few prayers.

Christ the King Sunday is also celebrated as the day of the Delegates of the Word, the men and women who lead Sunday celebrations of the Word in their communities. The movement was started in the mid-1960s to help the many distant communities gather for a Sunday celebration, since the parish priest could not get to all the communities on a Sunday and it was very difficult to get to the main town for Mass.

After the prayer, Padre German took the monstrance with the host throughout the crowd. 

Here, there is a custom of touching the monstrance and then blessing oneself. I don’t know where the custom comes from, though I wonder if it is in some way related to the difficulty many have of going to communion (for any number of reasons). In my mind, it is very much an expression of the desire to touch God – to be in real contact with Jesus. It could at times become almost superstitious, but, watching the devotion, it seems to be the expression of deep desire for God.

After the period of adoration, we had Mass. I am coming down with a cold and so I can’t give a good report on the homily, though Padre German tried to connect the reading of Jesus before Pilate with the reality of people’s lives.

Since I was away all week at a seminar on the protection and care of minors and persons in vulnerable situations, I did not have much of a role in the celebration, which doesn’t bother me. I didn’t participate in the processions, but I did do my diaconal roles at Mass and helped move things after the celebration.

I spent a good bit of time before and after connecting with people, even arranging a few visits to communities in December. I also talked to at least four young people who are finishing high school this December. Several of them want to study in the university but that’s costly. So they may work for a while – or try to find a way to both work and study. There is also the difficulty of not finding the degree they want near here.

While visiting I found out that a neighbor had left for Spain last Sunday. She has a sister there and will probably be seeking work, to help pay off debts of the family. She leaves a husband a a two year old son. I also found out that one young guy who worked on my house was with the caravan. However, he crossed the border on his own and is presumably safe in the US.

The feast of Christ the King is important for us here – not least of all it is a contrast to the politics that we find here and in many places throughout the world. And so it is important to celebrate it – among the poor, who show us the face of the prisoner Jesus before the repressive and violent powers of this world.