How can I preach the Passion among the poor?

This afternoon I will go to an aldea where I have often spent Good Friday, Debajiados.

To get there you have to go up a mountain and then down the other side. It’s about 50 minutes from here in Plan Grande and so I asked a neighbor to help with the driving. 

It is a small poor remote community that at this point does not have a Delegate of the Word to lead celebrations (though there is one in formation.) There was a young man who was in formation to be a communion minister, but he died of pneumonia, leaving his wife and four kids. Recently, the only delegate suddenly left the community,

But they are trying to live their faith. A young woman is in formation to become a catechist. Two young men (including the oldest son of the man who died of pneumonia) were confirmed this past February. 

I visited several times before I was ordained a deacon, the first time on a rainy December Sunday, going down to the church – on a “macho”. The second time, Good Friday, 2016, I took communion to a couple who lived far from the church, riding on a donkey.

I also helped with the funeral of a young girl from the community, accompanying the community to Mass and burial in a village the other side of the mountain. 

How to preach here is a serious question. 

As I prayed this morning one image came to me – suggested by the first two readings of the Good Friday Liturgy: the powerful fragility of Jesus crucified, the weakness of the Cross. 

Is there any image that better reflect the sad reality of the poor and that also give hope by reminding us of the transformative power of the Cross of Jesus and the resurrected Jesus, with his wounds?

 

from Esquipulas

This image of the suffering God reminds us that Jesus identified himself with the suffering and when we look on the faces of the poor we are looking on the faces of Christ Jesus who suffered and died with and for us. 

Many years ago I learned a famous crucifixion retablo of Mathias Grüenwald in the chapel of a hospital of people suffering from a disease that felt pustules on the skin. Jesus on the cross bears the same wounds.

There are other images of the crucified Christ identified with the suffering and persecuted. Most notable is Marc Chagall's the White Crucifixion where Jesus identifies with the Jews suffering pogroms in Russia. 

There is also Fritz Eichenberg's The Black Crucifixion

All these point to the reality of the identification of God with the suffering of this world.

This is very clear in the Holy Week liturgies. 

As Saint Óscar Romero, reflecting on the Suffering Servant Songs in Isaiah that we have been hearing this week.

The Servant of Yahweh is so closely identified with the people that biblical interpreters cannot really tell whether the Servant of Yahweh announced by Isaiah is the suffering people or the Christ who comes to redeem them.

Jon Sobrino, SJ, Salvadoran theologian and friend of Monseñor Romero, also notes this identification. of the crucified Christ and the crucified of this world.

The crucified peoples of the world are today’s Suffering Servant, innocent but hidden away, “though he had done no wrong nor spoken any falsehood.” If the Servant does not merit such treatment, then it means that we have unjustly inflicted it on him: “He was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins.” The Suffering Servant proclaims the truth about the crucified people, and the truth about their executioners. In the crucified people, we can and must see ourselves. As in an inverted mirror, we can see who and what we truly are by looking at what we have produced. Today the crucified people embody the scandalous and prophetic presence of Jesus among us.

So, what can I do today but remind the people (and myself) that we have a God who suffers with us so that suffering can be transformed by the power of God – both in our personal lives and in our world.

Saint Stephen, deacons, and the poor

Today, the feast of Saint Stephen, deacon and martyr, I’ve been reflecting on my ordination as a deacon on July 15, 2016.

Stephen, “a man filled with faith and the holy Spirit,” was the first among the seven “reputable men” chosen by the apostles to serve the Greek-speaking followers of Jesus who complained that “their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution.”

There are some scholars who say that these seven were not really “deacons.” Yet, the prayer of ordination of a deacon refers to the naming of seven men by the apostles, as narrated in Acts of the Apostles 6: 1-6. I remember that day, as the bishop prayed:

en los comienzos de la Iglesia, los apóstoles de tu Hijo, movidos por el Espíritu Santo, eligieron siete hombres de buena fama, como auxiliares suyos en el servicio cotidiano, mediante la oración e imposición de manos, los dedicaron al servicio de los pobres, para poder entregarse ellos, con mayor empeño, a la oración y a la predicación de la palabra. 

"in the beginning of the Church, the apostles of your Son, moved by the Holy Spirit, chose seven men with a good reputation, as helpers in the daily service; by means of prayer and the laying on of hands, they dedicated them to the service of the poor, so that they [as apostles] could devote themselves with greater commitment to prayer and the preaching of the Word." (My translation)

Though I had read and prayed over the prayer before that day, when I heard the words “los dedicaron al servicio de los pobres,” my body shook. It was as if all that I was trying to do in my life here as a missionary and all that I had tried to live in my life before coming here was being confirmed and indeed “ordered” as a public witness and ministry with the People of God. 

The English translation of the prayer of consecration is slightly different: “the apostles entrusted to those chosen men the ministry of serving at tables.” For me, the Spanish version has a fuller meaning: we are called to be at the service of the poor. 

The poor are at the center of my diaconal ministry, as they have been at many times of my life before coming here to Honduras, as they have been part of my missionary calling here in Honduras since I arrived in 2007.

I am convinced that being with the poor, at their side, serving them and accompanying them is central to who I am and to what I have been called. 

This past year, especially the last few weeks, I have been remiss in this – partly due to emotional pressures and, more recently, a series of colds. But I am convinced that we deacons ought to include this question as we examine our consciences: “When was the last time I was in the house of a poor person?” – more specifically, a physically poor person. 

It is good to be an advocate of the poor; it is good to minister to those who are poor emotionally or in terms of their faith. But I am convinced, partly by my experience, partly by the words and witness of Pope Francis, that Jesus calls us to be with those who are impoverished physically and that this is a special call for us deacons. 

In his Mass on December 24,  Pope Francis noted:

"...let us remember that it is not truly Christmas without the poor. Without the poor, we can celebrate Christmas, but not the birth of Jesus. Dear brothers, dear sisters, at Christmas God is poor: let charity be reborn!"

In that homily, Pope Francis cited the sainted archbishop Óscar Romero, who on Christmas 1978 preached these challenging words:

“No one can celebrate an authentic Christmas unless they are truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud of heart, those who despise others because they do not possess the material goods of this earth, those who do not need or want God --- for these people there is no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, and those who need someone to come to them because they have need of someone, someone who is God, someone who is Emmanuel, God-with-us --- only these people are able to celebrate Christmas. Without the spirit of poverty, one is unable to be filled with God.”

Toward the end of his homily, Pope Francis said:

"He who lay naked in the manger and hung naked on the cross, asks us for truth, he asks us to go to the bare reality of things, and to lay at the foot of the manger all our excuses, our justifications and our hypocrisies. Tenderly wrapped in swaddling clothes by Mary, he wants us to be clothed in love. God does not want appearances but concreteness. Brothers and sisters, may we not let this Christmas pass without doing something good. Since it is his celebration, his birthday, let us give him the gifts he finds pleasing! At Christmas, God is concrete: in his name let us help a little hope to be born anew in those who feel hopeless!"

I believe that we ordained deacons need to show the love of God for the poor concretely, being at their side, listening to them, making their cause our own, suffering with them. This is not easy. It takes us out of our comfort zones. It takes us where we sometimes done want to go. It may even get us into trouble. 

But it is where our Lord Jesus, the Servant of Yahweh, is.

“For you know the gracious act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that for your sake he became poor although he was rich, so that by his poverty you might become rich." (2 Corinthians 8:9)

 One extra reminder of all this came in the early hours of Christmas. Just back from our Christmas Mass (our midnight Mass that began at 10 pm), I was doing a little computer work when a message arrived from a young man I know from one of our parish villages, with a Christmas greeting. In the course of our messaging back and forth, I found out that he was at the El Paso/Ciudad Juárez border, hoping to cross the bridge and get legally into the US. Jesus among the migrants.

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?

The Mexican widow's mite and the US rich man

A homily I won’t give, since I’m not in the US, and which I probably wouldn’t give – since it would probably raise a ruckus. (But then, a Bishop of Rome named Francis urged youth to raise a ruckus.)

Tomorrow's Gospel (Mark 12: 38-44) reads:

Jesus sat down opposite the treasury and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, “Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

Jesus sat down on a boat in the Gulf of Mexico and observed how the nations reacted to the caravan of refugees travelling through Mexico toward the US.

Many US politicians put lots of money into their coffers and planned to spend millions building a wall and sending military and other armed troops to the border. They also talked about withholding aid to the countries from which these people had come. (They had already cut assistance to the poor in the US and so this was not something unexpected.)

A poor Mexican also came by and with some friends spent all night making 700 tamales; another took the shoes off her feet and gave it to a Honduran woman walking barefoot and soon found other shoes to give to the people passing by. A poor church opened its doors and gave them a place to sleep. Others prepared meals and some nuns came and spent hours caring for the bodies of those who were walking, especially taking care of their feet. Other religious thumbed rides for the migrants.

Calling his disciples, Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you, these poor Mexicans put in more than all the others. The others contributed pittances to the poor and put money into building a wall. But the poor have contributed what they have, their livelihood.”

The issues of the caravan are complex and no one I know of is calling for completely open borders. But when we close our eyes to the poor we are in danger of closing our hearts to God.

What should we do, as followers of Christ?

1. Open our churches to the migrants. If there are 7000 migrants, many in family groups, and there are more than 17,000 US Catholic parishes, each parish or groups of three parishes, could agree to take in a family or a few people.

2. Advocate that the US accept as refugees those fleeing violence and persecution – including those fleeing gangs and drug traffickers who threaten their lives and women and children fleeing domestic violence. The US could send 3000 immigration judges and 3000 public defenders to the border, instead of militarizing the border.

3. Advocate changes to US immigration law that open the way to temporary work visas, easily obtained. I think that people who want to work would gladly take advantage of this type of immigration.

4. Refuse to support regimes that oppress their people, such as Honduras which has received lots of military and police aid, when what is needed is sustainable development.

5. Pray for the people, open your hearts and pocketbooks to them in their need.

6. Refuse to denigrate anyone, to demonize anyone, to look down on anyone (whether they be migrants or US government officials.)

7. Open your heart to all the poor and needed – where you live and throughout the world. Love should have no boundaries.

8. Recognize the truth of these words of Pope Pius XII, in Exsul Familia Nazarethana, August 1, 1952:

"The émigré Holy Family of Nazareth, fleeing into Egypt, is the archetype of every refugee family. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, living in exile in Egypt to escape the fury of an evil king, are, for all times and all places, the models and protectors of every migrant, alien and refugee of whatever kind who, whether compelled by fear of persecution or by want, is forced to leave his native land, his beloved parents and relatives, his close friends, and to seek a foreign soil.”

Whether they flee, “compelled by fear of persecution or by want,” they are children of God and deserve a hearing.

9. Will we let ourselves be moved by love or by fear?

USCCB image

The wisdom of the poor

Notes for a homily for the US from Honduras 

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 

If I were in the U.S. I’d be tempted to give a homily like this today. 

A prominent US personality recently said,

“’Why'd you appoint rich person to be in charge of the economy?” I said, 'Because that's the kind of thinking we want, because they are representing the country…'"
"I love all people -- rich or poor -- but in those particular positions, I just don't want a poor person. Does that make sense? If you insist, I'll do it -- but I like it better this way."

But the wisdom of Jesus is radically different:

“I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to little ones.”

What are our blinders - we who are rich or relatively rich in terms of the rest of the world? What can’t we see? What is hidden from us? Why might our assumed knowledge be disastrous for the impoverished of the world?

As the US bishops wrote in 1986 in Economic Justice for All, ¶87:

As individuals and as a nation, therefore, we are called to make a fundamental "option for the poor." The obligation to evaluate social and economic activity from the viewpoint of the poor and the powerless arises from the radical command to love one's neighbor as one’s self. Those who are marginalized and whose rights are denied have privileged claims if society is to provide justice for all. This obligation is deeply rooted in Christian belief. As Paul VI stated:

In teaching us charity, the Gospel instructs us in the preferential respect due the poor and the special situation they have in society: the more fortunate should renounce some of their rights so as to place their goods more generously at the service of others.

John Paul II has described this special obligation to the poor as "a call to have a special openness with the small and the weak, those that suffer and weep, those that are humiliated and left on the margin of society, so as to help them win their dignity as human persons and children of God."

Enough said.

---

The statue is found in front of St. Francis of Assisi Church, New York City.