Death, life, and hope

Yesterday I presided at my third funeral in two weeks. Monday, I had interviews with two couples who will soon be married. Sunday morning, I visited a nearby village, brought communion to a 90 some year old woman and, in the afternoon, I baptized nine young children here in Plan Grande. Yesterday was the first of six workshops I’m facilitating in different parts of the parish to help the communities organize and prepare for any natural disasters. 

But yesterday’s funeral touched me in a different way. 

The woman died after a year of suffering. She had lived with her husband for 46 years and had six daughters. Last Thursday, Padre German married the couple in their home, On Sunday, I dropped off a communion minister to give her communion. Monday, she died.

One person noted that, after the marriage, she was in the grace of God after living in “union libre” for so many years. 

It is not uncommon for couple to live together for decades without getting married, either civilly or in the church. The causes are many – the costs of civil marriage, the expectations that a marriage involves a costly celebration, the lack of a culture of marriage, the lack of attention to remote villages by priests (except for those, who like our pastor, make an effort to visit them), unrealistic expectations of what marriage involves, overly strict church requirements (which are slowly changing), fear of commitment, machismo (why only one woman?), and more that I am not aware of.

But very often I come across people who have lived together for years and even for decades and are raising or have raised children with love and with a concern for their spiritual growth. So I have a very different approach.

At the funeral, I noted the 46 years of life together of the couple and the love they had shared with each other and with their children and grandchildren. I noted, with joy, that they had sanctified this love, explicitly inviting God into their life together, in the sacrament of matrimony which they had just shared.

I really need to do a little more study and reflection on this, since this happens so often.

Love between a couple and with their children is affirmed and brought into the life of God and the Church community through the sacrament of marriage. It’s God filling in what is lacking in our love and the community of faith present to witness this commitment and, hopefully, help them live their love together.

This becomes clear to me any number of times when I do pre-marriage interviews. There are some couples who have not lived together, but most often the couples preparing for marriage have lived together and have children. A good number of them have had their children baptized before their sacramental marriage.

Some of them I’ve known for a few years and I’ve encouraged them to consider sacramental marriage. I sometimes ask, with a mischievous gleam in my eye, when are you getting married in the church. It is a real joy when that happens.

And it is a joy when I baptize children, especially ones I know. This Sunday it was nine children under seven in Plan Grande. This is but part of my ministry here. 

In about half an hour I have another workshop to help different communities organize in the face of possible natural disasters - another part of my diaconal ministry. Yesterday’s workshop went very well.

Now, off to ministry.

Stations of the Cross in our midst

In 2004, I had the blessing to spend twelve days in the Holy Land, as a guest of a friend who was volunteering in Bethlehem.

One day I decided to go to Jerusalem, alone, and visit the Holy sites, walking the Way of the Cross. I visited the Dome of the Rock and then began the Stations of the Cross. I stopped at a few places and entered open chapels but what most affected me was seeing people walking in the streets where Jesus walked – not as pilgrims but as people going about their daily lives. I am including below what I wrote a few months after my pilgrimage. 

I took one photo that has moved me many times. A man and his son, with a small backpack, are walking where Jesus walked.

Jesus walked to his death, carrying the cross, in the midst of the daily lives of many people of his times. Some noticed him, as the women who wept. But many didn’t. But Jesus was there, suffering in their midst – and sharing their suffering. 

And so, too, he walks among us, carrying his cross – but also carrying the cross of the multitudes who suffer every day – especially here in Honduras, but also in every corner of the globe. 

May they always remember the presence of a God who suffers with them. 

A few weeks ago I gave a friend a ride to San Pedro Sula. Sister Pat was going to give a series of talks on the Cross to a congregation of sisters devoted to the Cross. As we talked, one idea touched me – the cross is the sign of the transformative power of “suffering with”. 

Jesus suffered with us, suffered for us, and shows us the power of suffering with others, sharing their sorrows and trials. 

As I reflect on this rainy Good Friday I realize that a central part of my ministry is being with people in the midst of their pain and suffering.

Last Monday, I went to Debajiados to preside at a Celebration of the Word for the end of the novena, the nine days after the death of a fifteen year old who had several physical problems but was a special young woman, very affectionate and exuberant. When we celebrated her funeral, I found myself close to tears while reading the Gospel.

This past Tuesday, I went to San Antonio El Alto and visited the sick – all eleven of them in this small village. Wednesday, I visited two sick persons in the nearby village of Granadillal. I also talked with someone about the need to get psychiatric help for at least two persons. 

 Visiting the sick is not always easy but is, for me, one of the most important my ministry as a deacon. Another important ministry is presiding at funerals. 

I find that I am transformed when I am at the side of those who are suffering and grieving. That’s what Good Friday is for me. 

 * * * * * 

A DAY OF RETREAT IN JERUSALEM - November 2004 

from my Palestine vignettes, slightly edited

My friend had arranged a very full schedule for me for my twelve days in the holy land. I was so busy that I hardly experienced any jetlag. 

But by the end of the first week, I decided that I needed a day of quiet, walking alone through the Old City of Jerusalem. 

I had hoped to get into Jerusalem early enough in the morning to visit the Harim al Sharif, the Noble Sanctuary, the site of the Dome of the Rock. However, I left Bethlehem late and managed to get lost in the Old City. So, when I arrived at the entrance, it was about to be closed to non-Muslims. 

I proceeded to walk down the Kidron Valley and up the Mount of Olives to the Church of the Pater Noster on the summit. This is supposedly the site where Jesus often went with his disciples, where he taught them the Lord’s Prayer, and shared with them the discourses in Matthew 24 –25. The church has the Lord’s Prayer in more than 100 languages on plaques on the walls of the grounds. I stopped and prayed in several languages. I made an effort to read the prayer in Nahuatl, the language of many Central Americans, as I remembered their suffering. I finally stopped in the little chapel on the site and sang the Lord’s Prayer in Latin. 

“Your will be done” echoed in my heart. 

THE VIA DOLOROSA 

I proceeded down the Mount of Olives to visit and pray again in the Church of the Agony and in the Tomb of the Virgin. 

After a short prayer in both places, I hurried to the Western Wall since the access to the Dome of the Rock would be open for an hour. I walked around and marveled at the beauty of the mosque with its exterior mosaic walls. The mosque is only open to Muslims.

I left the area by the exit near the Lions Gate and proceeded to walk the stations of the cross. 

As I walked I saw some children in the Muslim Quarter playing; other children were just getting out of school, carrying their book bags on their back. At one point I came across twenty or so Israeli soldiers, young men and women, filing out of a house and filling the street. They looked like new recruits.

As I stopped and prayed at the stations, vendors invited me into their stores and men offered to guide me to the holy sites. I turned down their offers – wanting the silence.

On the route of the first stations the streets are not very narrow and are open to the sky. But as I approached the seventh station the streets narrowed. Shops with everything from backlava to clothing to souvenirs crowded the street.

Praying at the little chapel of the fifth station, Simon helps Jesus carry the cross, I thought of my call to help carry the cross of the suffering people of the world.

But it was in the street, by the eighth station that I felt the weight of the cross – the pain and suffering of so many people. At the eighth station Jesus met the women of Jerusalem who are weeping. Jesus told them to weep, not for him but for themselves and for their children. I was again near tears, having witnessed not only the sufferings of Jesus but of the people of this blessed land. 

As I approached the church of the Holy Sepulcher I realized that Christ went to his death not on a special day – but in the midst of a city that was bustling with people. And it is here that the crucified Jesus suffers still.

The Holy Sepulcher

✠ ✠ ✠ ✠ ✠

I was inspired to write this by a post of Deacon Greg Kandra in The Deacon's Bench. Click here to read his reflection.

Not the subtlest barrier

“Our times are firmly in tune with Christianity, in that suffering is part of their character... They help us genuinely and completely to accept the vow of poverty, to seek no rule, but rather anarchy, the anarchic life of Fools for Christ’s sake, seeking no monastic enclosure but rather the complete absence of even the subtlest barrier which might separate the heart from the world and its wounds.”  (Mother Maria Skobtsova, 1938)

When the bishop asked me in 2014 if I would consider the permanent diaconate, I shared with him one of my serious concerns. Would being a deacon separate me from the people I serve? Would it create more barriers between them and me? 

I recognize that there are barriers. I don’t speak Spanish perfectly and my accent sometimes confuses some people. I am a vegetarian, among people who seldom eat meat but who often offer meat to visitors (especially the clergy). I have money in a bank account, while many people are struggling to survive. I have a US passport and can go to the US whenever I want (though now there are the COVID-19 requirements for entry into the US), whereas many people here would love to have the opportunity to work in the US to provide a better life for their families. I can leave whenever I want. I can go to the US and get the COVID vaccine, whereas most here may not receive the vaccine for months, if not years. 

These are some of the potential barriers between the people here in the countryside and me. They are real differences, but they can become ways to separate me from the people. 

It has helped that I was serving in the parish even before I began discernment about the diaconate. I think my sense of humor has helped bridge the differences since they know that I love to joke, sometimes at my own expense. Bringing candy to meetings doesn't hurt. 

But what helps me most is the conviction that God is working among the people and I am called to accompany them, to help them see the signs of God’s love amid their joys and sufferings. In addition, I have been blessed to be opened to the wisdom and the love that they have. I have learned from them. We are sisters and brothers on the way with God. 

For this, I am most grateful. And so I continually ask God to help break down any barriers, even the subtlest.

Grace abounds

The last two weeks have been times of grace for me, despite difficult situations and the pandemic and hurricane. Here are some photos.

Travel has been tricky – and the pastor’s car got stuck in a cemetery on All Souls Day. 

I had the power steering belt changed on my pickup on Wednesday. This is what some of the roads look like, if you wonder why I have so many repairs.

There was the grave-side service on October 30 in Dulce Nombre of a young man who died of electrocution at work. 

There was the baptism on October 31 of a young man who needs a fourth operation for cerebral blood coagulation.

There was the All Souls Day Mass at the cemetery in Joyas Galanas (where I preached). HEre's a picture of the pastor with Fernando, the seminarian who's with us this year. 

There was the wedding of a young couple in Descansadero, last Thursday, November 5. 

There were the baptisms of four kids, ages 11 months to six years, in San Agustín, on Saturday, November 7. 

There was the joy of seeing that the church in San Agustín is collecting food stuffs and materials for the victims of the earthquake. One family donated four sacks of corn. 

And there has been my continuing amazement at the work on the murals in the parish church – with the mural of Saint Lawrence the deacon almost finished. 

 God is good.

And the sun came out for a time yesterday.

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.

In a time of virus

In the midst of the world crisis in the face of the corona virus, I have felt distant from the crisis, somewhat like the feeling I had looking out on the valley one morning this month.

A Facebook friend from Ames shared a tweet from someone that read: “The weirdest part of living through the COVID-19 pandemic is this strange mixture of normalcy and emergency that we are all experiencing. I constantly feel that I’m over- or under-reacting, or really both at the exact same time. It’s surreal.”

I think that’s part of the way I feel now. But up to a few days ago, I felt much more detached.

Yes, the permanent diaconate conference in Germany was cancelled and I kept trying to cancel flights and was unable to get through. I did get notice of flight changes and a cancelled flight. Finally, I spent about two hours on line (at about 9:30 pm one night) and think I have it cancelled and hope for a refund of the flight.

The diocese has cancelled the clergy retreat next week. They have also asked for no events with more than fifty people (following a decree about this on Saturday by COPECO, the government emergency commission).

A few days ago the government decided to help prevent the spread of the virus by distributing about 3 million plastic bottles of gel to school kids (with the appropriate government propaganda and a cost of over 20 million dollars). 

Then the schools were closed for two weeks a few days later.

The president has closed all borders for seven days – no one gets in or out, except for cargo and supplies. Also, there are supposed to be no public meetings for seven days, including church services. Saturday, they limited meetings to a maximum of fifty people.

Some people here are panicked; others are responding with suspicion that it’s not real or that it’s something made to enrich the rich even more; I am worried that some are not taking it seriously enough.

I am bombarded on Facebook by all sorts of opinions, factoids, and a few facts. Panic seems to be the fallback reaction. Panic gets us nowhere. A French philosopher has said in an interesting interview:

“It is absurd to say 'stop worrying' or 'there is no reason to panic' because there is never any good reason to panic.”

How am I feeling? Somewhat perplexed with people I know and respect who don’t seem to be taking it seriously enough; I think this is partly because they are trying to lessen the panic. I am worried about the people who have little understanding of the nature of a virus and may practice the preventive measures that are need. I am trying to figure out how to be careful but still be pastoral and comfort those who are affected.

Yet there are other concerns.

A person I know who has had a serious mental health problem that was being controlled by medication is falling into depression. I asked his spouse if he was taking his medication. No. They don’t have the money. I’ll contact a doctor this week. There are some victims of abuse, domestic violence, and rape who need accompaniment and one of whom may need help for a visit to a San Pedro Sula hospital for surgery.

What I ask is how I can accompany the people? How can I be of service, without endangering the health of anyone?

In the midst of this, life goes on.

There are some major renovations on the church grounds in Dulce Nombre, including painting the interior of the church.

Last week It rained for three days and my car is still laden with mud. 

But now it’s warm and dry.Today  I even got clothes washed and dried on the line.

Pastoral work has continued, up to today.

Thursday I went with Padre German to Barbascales, a remote village in the parish where I had never visited. The church is abandoned as well as many houses – probably due to violence and more. It was strange to visit the church and pray there. Padre German plans to visit again and, if there are people who come, to celebrate Mass. He spoke to a few people before we left and set a date for his return.

At the bottom front of the church in Barbascales: "Cristo vive" - Christ is alive.

Friday we had a parish meeting of the Delegates of the Word, those who lead Sunday Celebrations of the Word in the remote villages.

Saturday, there was a deanery meeting on religious education in San Rosa on Saturday, about 50 people we represent. In the afternoon I spent a short time talking with someone whose family is undergoing a crisis. After this I had a funeral in a home here in Plan Grande.

Sunday I went to Grandillal for a Celebration of the Word with communion, as well as the first scrutiny for an adolescent who will be baptized this Easter, God willing. In the afternoon, I went to the Mass in San Agustín where I preached again and where we celebrated the first scrutiny with five young people. (The scrutinies are special prayers with a simple exorcism for those who are planning to be baptized at the Easter Vigil.)

Monday I went to Santa Rosa de Copán for a few chores. I dropped in to one grocery store and they were only letting fifty people in at a time. I also tried to see if I could find a face-mask for the driver of our parish car for the sick, in case he needs it. I went to four pharmacies and not one could be found. I am concerned about the driver. He has a family. I told him that if he was concerned, I would be glad to be the person to take people to hospitals or clinics.

About noon, Monday, I got a call from Padre German asking me to do a funeral in Piedras Coloradas for a woman in her fifties who died from a recent stroke. The death took a toll on many of the woman’s brothers and sisters, as well as two of her children who were there. (A third is in the US.) I pray that my presence helped them recall God’s presence in the midst of their loss. I fear that we may have more of these.

This week I was supposed to meet with six couples who are in the last stages of their preparation for marriage. It’s really quite exciting, especially since I know at least one member of three of the couples. This year is the year of marriages. There are more than 21 couples now in preparation for marriage. But we are in a virtual shut-down – no busses, no public meetings, most businesses closed (except for banks, hotels, grocery stores, and gas stations.) I just got a call cancelling four of the interviews this week. Since we don’t have the clergy retreat next week, I hope to reschedule them during that week.

What now?

Pray.

Read.

Write. Prepare the Stations of the Cross for the parish. Prepare a twelve-part preparation for confirmation for adults, for use with those who are preparing for marriage.

           

Contact friends through e-mail or Facebook messenger – or even a phone call.

Pray.

I also told the local health clinic in Candelaria that, if there was an emergency that someone needed to get to the hospital and they had no other resource, they could call me.

Lent has begun - a chatty blog post

On Ash Wednesday I served as a deacon at the morning Mass in Dulce Nombre. The Mass was mostly for the delegates of the Word who would be signing the people with ashes in their communities. As the readings began, Padre German leaned over to me and asked if I was ready to preach. Of course. I try to have something prepared – sometimes, as yesterday, written out – if only on a sheet of paper.

After Mass, I went to two distant villages to visit the sick and sign them with ashes. In the past I’ve often gone to a community that didn’t send a delegate to the morning Mass, but this year I decided to visit the sick – a great way to begin Lent. I’ve visited these communities two or three times before to bring communion to the sick, partly because they don’t have a communion minister. I had planned to go later but a delegate in the community had told me that someone told her that I would be there February 24. I don’t recall saying that and couldn’t go on Monday because of car repairs. So I decided to go.

Three persons had gotten worse since the last time and so I was glad to see them and share Communion with two of them. What was interesting was that the next day the pastor will be in both villages for confessions and Masses. The one village has arranged for someone to transport five of the sick to the church for confession.

WORKSHOPS

In the last two weeks there have been a number of workshops which I have led or in which I helped.

We are beginning a new way of doing religious formation of children in several villages. Up to this point, most of the preparation has been to prepare for sacraments. The new manner, promoted on a national level, is by ages. Since it’s new material, I met with catechists from six villages. I’m hoping that this works out well.

I also had a meeting for those who are preparing to become new catechists; thirty-one arrived.

The parish is trying to help revive the base communities and so we had all-day workshops in two zones of the parish last week and in the other two this week.

The day after Ash Wednesday I went to a forum on environmental issues sponsored by JPIC, a Franciscan association for Justice, Peace, and the Integrity of Creation. It was informative and I made a few contacts to get information about issues of mining nearby.

MISSIONARIES

The Church in Latin America has made mission central to its life, especially since the 2007 meeting of the bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean in Aparecida, Brazil. Since Padre German came to the parish, we’ve been having missions in the parish, usually weeks when parishioners go forth two by two to villages, visiting homes to evangelize the people. Recently we have also had missions for the first half of Holy Week.

The missionaries do not go out without formation. Last Tuesday we had a training session. Since the Honduran Church has set peace and reconciliation as its central theme this year, I spent almost two hours on the themes of forgiveness and reconciliation. It was not easy to prepare, but, thank God, I have been studying the works of John Paul Lederach and Father Robert Schreiter. In addition, Sister Nancy Meyerhofer has shared with me some of the materials she used in a diocesan meeting and with the youth leaders in her parish. I also had worked on this theme for a December week of classes for the Honduran Conference of Religious.

I know that at least four of the missionaries had been instruments of reconciliation in communities where they had gone in previous years. I was also encouraged by the response of the participants as we tried to work through the themes of forgiveness and reconciliation. I hope that we can have a few day-long workshops to help us develop our capacity to be instruments of peace and reconciliation in the parish. The pastor is talking about places of listening, where people can come and share what is happening in their lives – most of all in those who are suffering distress because of the violence around them.

This is very important and I find it hopeful that we are beginning Lent with this vision.

RITE OF ELECTION

Sunday, we had the rite of election of catechumens, who will, God willing, be baptized at the Easer Vigil. We had fourteen. However, three of these did not get to the rite of election in December for various valid reasons and so we celebrated the rite of entry in the catechumenate at the beginning of Mass. One of the most moving parts of this rite is the signing of the persons with the cross on their senses. For me, the most poignant part is when the minister and the godparents kneel before the catechumens and sign them on their feet.

After the initial rites, as we sat down to listen to the readings, Padre German leaned over and asked me if I was ready to preach. Despite trying to deal with all the details of the rites, I was ready.

UPCOMING

This next week and a half, after a clergy meeting, I have four days of training for catechists in different zones of the parish, as well as a meeting with the communion ministers and youth leaders and a deanery meeting. As usual, I will go to a rural village Sunday morning for a Celebration of the Word with Communion.

Then, God willing I will be gone for eleven days. There is a symposium on the permanent diaconate in Germany sponsored by the International Diaconate Center. After some thought and conferring with the bishop and the pastor, I decided to go. Since this is probably the last time I’ll get to Europe, I decided to spend a few days of “vacation,” visiting Chartres, Paris, and Dachau.

When I get back we have the annual clergy spiritual exercises. Then it’s only two weeks to Easter. Lent this year will be a whirlwind. I just pray for some calmness – and conversion.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES

On Sunday, February 16, I went to Debajiados, a remote village for Celebration of the Word with Communion. It’s one of my favorite places to visit. After the Celebration I went to take Communion to two women. They both live far from the town church and so I drove about 10 minutes and then hiked up the hill for about 10 to 15 minutes. I didn’t go alone – I was accompanied by 5 adults and 13 kids. Some of them were relatives of the two women I visited. It was great to have them with me.

On Saturday, February 22, I did six baptisms. On Sunday, February 23, after Mass in Concepción, I went to San Juan for a Celebration of the Word with Communion. It was not easy to preach the Gospel of loving your enemies. There have been three killings there in the last few months.

We are repairing and repainting the church, inside and out. Here's how the church looks as they apply paint to neutralize the oil-based paint. God willing, we will have a mural on the apse, above the altar. An artist will be coming in April or May.

We have had a few cold and rainy days. The cold goes right through you, since it’s so damp. Though people in the US might find my complaining, trying to sleep when it’s 59 degrees in the bedroom means two or three heavy blankets. I really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. This is what the world here looked like at 5:48 am.

Thanksgiving, death, baptisms – and Advent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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