ASH WEDNESDAY IN DULCE NOMBRE

What do you do on Ash Wednesday when you have more than 45 places where people gather for worship in a parish?

Padre German, our pastor, has five Masses in four different locations. But that leaves out more than forty communities.

I was going to go to a distant village, but I thought it best not to go at this time, since my body’s defenses are low, due to last Thursday’s chemotherapy.

So almost all the villages sent a Delegate of the Word or someone else to the 10 am Mass in the main parish church. Ashes were blessed and distributed to those attending.

After Mass, little plastic cups of ashes were given to those who would distribute them at a Celebration of the Word in their communities. In some communities, where there is an extraordinary communion minister, they would have a Celebration of the Word with Communion.

I attended the 10:00 am Mass in the parish and served as deacon, in a limited way. I did preach but I decided not to distribute the ashes, nor communion, nor purify the vessels.

It was a blessing to be with the delegates and some others who came for Mass.

After Mass, I went back into the church to pray – and was awed by the beauty around us.

The Gate of Heaven is everywhere

Thomas Merton had an epiphany on the corner of 4th and Walnut in Louisville, Kentucky, about March 18, 1958.

What especially struck me was the head of the gnome at the base of the plaque. How very Mertonesque!

I visited there once, but didn't have my camera. 

Two good friends, who were he in Honduras in December, just passed there and sent me a photo. I love it. Who cannot laugh seeing the gnome at this sacred spot. 

But there's even more. A woman passed by asking help for forty cents to pay for her bus fare.

"The Gate of Heaven is everywhere."

Here's the text of Merton's encounter in Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, pp. 141-142

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream.... 

This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud.... It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes many terrible mistakes: yet, with all that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstake.... 

There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.... There are no strangers! ... If only we could see each other [as we really are] all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed.... I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other.... 

At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. 

I have no program for this seeing. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.

I was sick and you visited me

As I have mentioned before in this blog, visiting the sick has been one of the most profound aspects of my diaconal ministry. Being able to visit, to talk with the sick person and with the caretakes, and to be able to share the Eucharist are a great gift, a privilege.

At times I don’t know what to say and so I just use the prayers in a book I have.

I’ll make a little small talk before I begin, asking how they are, and will often given a short commentary on a scripture passage.

Being present is the gift.

But yesterday I was on the receiving end.

I asked a neighbor, who is a communion minister, to bring me communion. She came with her young grandson; we prayed and I received communion. 

It was clear that she felt a little uncomfortable since she is accustomed to receiving communion from me or to accompanying me when I bring communion to others.

But I suddenly realized the significance of this ministry.

When we go to the sick, we bring Jesus in Communion, but we also come as the Church, the Body of Christ. Christ in the Eucharist is inseparable from Christ in His Body, the People of God.

All too often I’ve felt that some Eucharistic practices are too individualistic – me and Jesus, Jesus coming to ME. 

We look at the Eucharist from outside – as a spectacle. We even look at the Eucharist as MY food, as a commodity. 

But receiving communion from the hands of a communion minister helped me see that communion is a communal practice, a communal encounter with Christ – in the Eucharist and the Church.

We don’t give ourselves Communion; we receive it from the community of faith. 

This inspires me to re-envision how I will visit the sick in the future. 

We, both ordinary and extraordinary ministers of Communion, bring Jesus but we also bring the Church, the Body of Christ.

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NOTE: I just began reading Monika K. Hellwig's The Eucharist and the Hunger of the World. Second Edition, published in 1992. I am sure that the introduction opened me to this insight. She mentions how, even with the post-Vatican II changes, we feel as if we are coming to the Eucharist as a "spectacle." But, as she notes, 

To take part in a eucharistic celebration is always an act of allegiance, of self-identification and of commitment, however slight. 

Thanks to Saint Thomas Church for help with education

The school year in Honduras starts in February with classes lasting until November.

For more than ten years St. Thomas has provided assistance to students in the parish of Dulce Nombre de María through funding partial scholarships for students enrolled in the programs of IHER – Honduran Institute of Education by Radio, commonly known as Maestro en Casa – Teachers at Home.

There are various levels of public education. Most rural villages have kindergartens and primary schools (to the sixth grade.) A few larger towns have Básico, seventh to ninth grade (similar to middle school). The major municipal centers and some other large towns often have the Honduran equivalent of high school, colegios. These have different programs based on different career track. Most all high school have a few career track options. 

The IHER program offers other opportunities for middle school and high school The student have work books and are expected to listen to programs on the radio and then fill out the workbooks. Saturdays and Sundays teachers give are classes in the four centers.

There are four centers of IHER within the parish: Dulce Nombre de María, El Prado de La Curz, and Bañaderos offer both high school and junior high. El Zapote Santa Rosa only offers junior high classes. 

This past year the IHER program in El Prado de la Cruz, worked to provide a career track in computation, but they needed to provide a computer lab. The faculty and students did several fundraising projects but also asked for assistance from St. Thomas Aquinas, The Honduras Committee designated $1100 for purchase of computers. Here are some photos the director of the center sent me.

This year there were more applicants for scholarships than last year. 211 – 125 high school; 86 middle school. As a result, your gift of 234,840 lempiras – about $9483.75 – was a great help for many poor families.

The scholarships cover part of the cost of the books. The students and their families will be paying for the other costs, including transportation. 

 Thank you for your generosity. 

An investment in the youth here is so important.

Here are a few photos of the graduation from 9th grade (junior high) in Dulce Nombre. 

Lastly, here's a letter of thanks from IHER El Prado:

Being Ill in Public

I had been a bit reluctant to make my prostate cancer known publicly – though the media.

I don’t want to call attention to myself when there are so many needs around me and so many people really suffering.

But sharing has been a blessed occasion. People who have had cancer have shared with me their experiences or the experiences of family members. A person who admits he rarely prays offered a prayer for me. As of today, more than 225 persons wrote a note on a Facebook post of mine asking for prayers and there were more than 420 who responded with a care, a like or a love. 

It has been humbling.

It also reminds of the net of connections and relations I have and the importance of these connections. As Pope Francis said to young people at a meeting in Skopje, North Macedonia in 2009 (Cited in Fratelli Tutti, 8):

“Here we have a splendid secret that shows us how to dream and to turn our life into a wonderful adventure. No one can face life in isolation… We need a community that supports and helps us, in which we can help one another to keep looking ahead. How important it is to dream together… By ourselves, we risk seeing mirages, things that are not there. Dreams, on the other hand, are built together.”

And I also remember the scene in Mark 2: 1-12, where Jesus heals a paralytic, assisted by four friends:

Then some came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Child, your sins are forgiven.”

Note that Jesus is touched by "their" faith, not the faith of the one who was ill. I tend to think that the man is healed because of the faith and prayers of his friends.

I don’t want to be the center of attention because I know that many others suffer in silence and without the support and resources I have. 

But …. 

If being ill in public can help some people recognize the presence of God in their lives, it is worth it. 

If my illness can open other to the illness of others – and open their hearts to accompany them, my being ill in public is not in vain. 

If my illness can help others recognize the resources they have in God and in their families and communities, then my words and example may help becoming a more caring community which respects and recognizes the gifts of everyone, even the poorest and humblest.

If my illness can move others to accompany the sick, to be at their side, to help them, my words move people to open their hearts (and their bank accounts) even more (especially for the ones who are really poor and in need.) 

If my illness can help others recognize our weakness, our fragility, then God may be using me to open others to His strength that is make complete in our weakness.

The words of Pope Francis' message for this year’s day of the sick have strengthened me:

"...it is precisely through the experience of vulnerability and illness that we can learn to walk together according to the style of God, which is closeness, compassion, and tenderness."

May God awaken in me and in all of us a deep tenderness and compassion, giving us the courage to accompany and touch the poor and suffering.

I will continue updates on what I’m experiencing in the hope that it may encourage those who are sick to live with peace and even joy in the midst of their suffering and to prod those who are well to accompany the poor – with funds, if they have them, but even more with their tender presence at the side of those who are ailing.

Be there – where God is.

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Graphic by Cerezo Barredo