Holy Thursday: oil, water, Eucharist

When the parish began planning what to do for Holy Week in the villages, I asked Padre German where he wanted me to go. He told me to go where I wanted. But I insisted and so he sent me to three of the most remote and poor villages. So I celebrated Holy Thursday and Good Friday in Agua Buena, El Bálsamo, and Delicias in the municipality of Dolores.

Thursday started out with a trip into Santa Rosa de Copán for the Chrism Mass, the Mass where the bishop blesses the oils of catechumens and the sick and consecrates the Sacred Chrism used in Baptism, Confirmation, Ordinations, and other special consecrations.

Two Communion ministers asked me or a ride and so I took Gloria with her son Eliú and Marco Tulio with his son Darlin.

They, with other communion ministers had visited villages where there is no communion minister, to bring communion to the sick and, if possible, to have a Celebration of the Word with Communion. I was humbled to hear how far they had gone and how much time they had put into their visits. On one day, Marco Tulio had walked four hours to go to two communities, accompanied by his son and another young man from their village.

The parish had encouraged each village to have a collection of basic food needs this week to give to families in need in their villages. Marco Tulio told me how El Zapote de Santa Rosa had gathered almost one hundred pounds of beans, rice, and other food. The generosity of the poor always surprises me.

The Chrism Mass was long – but there was one part that really touched me. The priest who carried in the Oil of the Sick had been very ill – with cancer, I think.

Bishop Andino and Deacon Manuel de Jesús distributing communion

I got to see a number of friends who live in Santa Rosa and also some priests I know but didn’t stay around after Mass since I had to get out to the village of Agua Buena.

 I got to Agua Buena about three pm and we started the celebration a little later.

Key to the Holy Thursday celebration is the Washing of the Feet.

Several places in the parish had the custom of re-enacting the Last Supper, complete with crackers and pop (or so to you non Mid-Westerners), followed by the washing of the feet.

Padre German and I decided that this practice should not be continued, especially where there are Communion ministers to distribute Communion.

In addition, I explained to the people that the washing of the feet is not a drama or an enactment of a past event. It is reliving what Jesus calls us to do. I consider the Washing to the Feet to be a sacramental – a sign that helps reveal the presence of God in our midst, but decided not to use that terminology with people here since it can easily be misunderstood. Yet they did understand that it is not a mere drama – it is a call to serve.

In Agua Buena they had 11 boys ready for the foot washing and were looking for another. I suggested they find a young woman – and they did.

I had the privilege to wash their feet. I noted the stubbed toes, probably due to ill-fitting shoes. And these were young people in their early and mid-teens.

After I washed the feet of the twelve, I decided to encourage others to come forward to wash the feet of others or let their feet be washed. 

It took a while for someone to step forward but finally a good number of men can forward.  Later, with a lot of encouragement, a number of women had their feet washed.

 Finally, realizing that I was being the most reluctant of all, I took off my shoe and let my foot be washed.

While I was encouraging some to come forward for the foot-washing, a woman commented that she was so sinful. I reminded her that Jesus washed the feet of both Peter and Judas. After a few minutes, she came forward to have her foot washed.

At the end of the celebration, at 5:30, I placed the Eucharist on the altar and invited the people to spend time on the next few hours, in slice with Jesus. I explained this was a way of accompanying Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. I told them that we could do this for two hours if they wanted. It ended up being three hours of quiet prayer by many members of the community.

At first, there was only one person praying before the altar. I wondered if the adoration would end early. But I was astounded by the incredible stillness one man maintained while praying on his knees before the altar.

But gradually people started arriving in groups of five or ten. The church was a real place of quiet prayer. Someone later told how important it was for them to have the opportunity to spend time before the Eucharist.

I went in and out of the church, spending some time in the area around the church talking with folks. I think I was a good source of entertainment for some guys when we saw a huge spider.

At about 8:15 the church was half-full. One of the lay leaders told me that we would end at 8:30 pm.

I decided that it might be good to have a closing prayer and so we prayed a shortened version of Compline, the night prayer of the church.

I soon went to bed.

So this Holy Thursday was full of little wonders, little signs of the presence of God and of faith in the people.

It was also a day when I challenged two guys who were living with a woman outside of marriage and had kids to consider getting married.  I have no idea why I have started this gentle encouragement to marriage, but I also continued this on Friday in another village.

Diaconal service

Today as the liturgy centers on Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, it is good for me to reflect on a change in my ministry - or, rather, a development of who am I and what I do here in Honduras.

When I was discerning about coming to Honduras as a lay missionary, my spiritual director asked me why. My immediate response was “to serve those most in need.”

Once a campus ministry colleague noted that my approach to ministry reflected Avery Dulles’ model of the church as servant, reflecting Christ as servant: 

“just as Christ came into the world not to be served but to serve, so the Church, carrying on the mission of Christ, seeks to serve the world by fostering the brotherhood of all men” (Models of the Church, pp. 91-92).

Palm Sunday’s reading from Philippians 2 is one that has shaped my life for many years:

“he emptied himself, taking the nature of a slave”

Serving is central to who I am, central to my ministry, central to my following of Christ.

I am not always as “servicial” as I should be. I tend to do things as I want them to be done. As an introverted intellectual, I tend to retreat into ideas about service, rather than getting my hands dirty. I do not always respond well to people asking for alms. I do not always, as Pope Francis has advised us, smell like the sheep.

But it is the vision of Jesus, the Servant, that impels me, that moves me, that gives me life. It is the spark that keeps me going.

Thus it was perhaps not surprising that last October our bishop, Monseñor Darwin Andino asked me if I would consider becoming a deacon.

I had my doubts and concerns – and I still have many. I will share some of them later. But after much prayer and study, after discussion with several close friends and spiritual advisers, after more than a month of discernment, I told the bishop that I was willing to go forward as a candidate for the diaconate in the diocese of Santa Rosa de Copán, Honduras.

As I read about the diaconate two things struck me.

First of all, the modern initiative for the diaconate as a permanent order began with discussions of priests in the Dachau concentration camp during World War II. Struck by the failure of the church to respond to the evil of Nazism, several priests began to discuss how to enable the church to be more responsive. One of their ideas was to involve laymen involved in the world as deacons, ordained members of the Church.

Secondly, the Vatican decree on the mission activity of the Church, Ad Gentes, paragraph 16, provided one rationale for the reinstitution of the diaconate as not merely a transition to the priesthood:

Where episcopal conferences deem it opportune, the order of the diaconate should be restored as a permanent state of life according to the norms of the Constitution "De Ecclesia."(23) For there are men who actually carry out the functions of the deacon's office, either preaching the word of God as catechists, or presiding over scattered Christian communities in the name of the pastor and the bishop, or practicing charity in social or relief work. It is only right to strengthen them by the imposition of hands which has come down from the Apostles, and to bind them more closely to the altar, that they may carry out their ministry more effectively because of the sacramental grace of the diaconate.

When I read that I saw something of myself in the person described. I am already carrying out the functions of a deacon – the ministry of the Word, of the altar, and of charity. The diaconate would add the sacramental grace of the diaconate and might aid me to be an animator of charity and justice.

And so, God willing, on Saturday, May 16, I will be received as a candidate for the diaconate. May God make me worthy to serve God, the Church, and the poor – with the love of Christ.

Please pray for me. 

Servicio diaconal

Si yo, siendo el Señor y el Maestro, 

les he lavado los pies, 

también ustedes deben lavarse los pies 

unos a otros.
Juan 13, 14

Al discernir si Dios me estaba llamando a venir a Honduras como un misionero laico, mi directora espiritual me pregunto, “¿por que?”  Sin pensar, respondí: "para servir los más necesitados”.

Una vez, una colega en la pastoral universitaria en los Estados Unidos me hizo reflexionar que mi manera de ejercer mi trabajo pastoral reflejaba el modelo de la iglesia como siervo, según los modelos de la iglesia de Padre Avery Dulles, un modelo que refleja Cristo como siervo:

Cristo vino al mundo para servir, no para ser servido; entonces, la Iglesia, prosiguiendo la misión de Cristo, busca servir el mundo, fomentando la solidaridad de todos los seres humanos 

La segunda lectura del Domingo de Ramos, Filipenses 2, me ha formado la vida por muchos años:

se anonadó, haciéndose esclavo

Servir es al fondo de mi identidad, central a mi trabajo pastoral, a la raíz de mi seguimiento de Cristo.

No soy siempre tan “servicial” como debo ser. Hago las cosas como YO quiero hacerlas. Como un intelectual introvertido, mi tendencia es pensar sobre el servicio más que servir, ensuciándome las manos. No huelo de las ovejas, como el Papa Francisco nos avisa.

Empero la vida de servicio es una visión que me impulsa, que me mueve, que me da la vida. Es la chispa que me mantiene en acción.

Entonces, tal vez no fue muy sorprendente que en octubre del año pasado, nuestro obispo, Monseñor Darwin Andino me preguntó si considera el diaconado permanente.

Tenía mis dudas y preocupaciones – y todavía tengo varias. Pero, al rezar y estudiar, al platicar con amigos y consejeros y consejeras espirituales, después de un mes del discernimiento, le dijo al obispo que estuviera dispuesto a iniciar el proceso hasta la candidatura del diaconado en la diócesis de Santa Rosa de Copán.

Leyendo sobre el diaconado, observé dos cosas.

Primero, la iniciativa de restaurar el diaconado como un orden permanente comenzó con un circulo de sacerdotes en el campo de concentración de Dachau en durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Afligido del fallo de una respuesta fuerte de la Iglesia en contra los males del Nazismo, ellos comenzaron a comentar la cuestión de cómo apoderar la iglesia para ser más sensible. Una idea era involucrar laicos ya metidos en el mundo como diáconos, miembros ordenados de la Iglesia.

Segundo, el decreto del Concilio Vaticano Segundo sobre la actividad misionera de la Iglesia,  Ad Gentes, en número 16, provee una razón fundamental para la restauración del diaconado que no es meramente una transición a la ordenación presbiteral:

Restáurese el Orden del Diaconado como estado permanente de vida según la norma de la Constitución "De Ecclesia", donde lo crean oportuno las Conferencias episcopales. Pues parece bien que aquellos hombres que desempeñan un ministerio verdaderamente diaconal, o que predican la palabra divina como catequistas, o que dirigen en nombre del párroco o del Obispo comunidades cristianas distantes, o que practican la caridad en obras sociales y caritativas sean fortalecidos y unidos más estrechamente al servicio del altar por la imposición de las manos, transmitida ya desde los Apóstoles, para que cumplan más eficazmente su ministerio por la gracia sacramental del diaconado.

Cuando leí este articulo, vi que yo soy un poco como la persona que los obispos describieron. Ya estoy cumpliendo varias funciones del diácono – el ministerio de la Palabra, del altar y de la caridad. El diaconado añadirá la gracia sacramental del diaconado y me ayudaría ser un animador de la caridad y la justicia.

Entonces, sábado, el 16 de mayo, Monseñor Darwin Andino me recibirá como candidato al diaconado permanente – primero Dios. Que Dios me haga digno de servirle a Él, a la Iglesia y a los pobres, con el amor de Cristo.

Reza por mi.

Touched by prayer

The parish where I live and serve covers several square miles with lots of dirt roads, but public transportation is limited – though much better than it was several years ago.

Three busses pass by Plan Grande twice a day – but that still leaves limited opportunities for people to get to where they need to be. Some will walk – two or more hours; some will seek a ride.

My custom is to give rides to people I know, though only up to four in the truck’s bed (partly because that’s the law, but more so because of safety concerns). I will also often give rides to folks who ask – if the truck isn’t full and if they aren’t drunk. I will often stop and offer a ride to the elderly or to women or families with kids who are walking – especially if I see them walking up the long hill toward Dulce Nombre.

Often, after they get off the truck, ask me how much do they owe me: “¿Cuánto le debo?”

I used to say nothing but a few months ago, realizing my need for prayer, began asking them to say an Our Father for me.

That sometimes surprises them – and once a woman told me she would say a whole rosary for me.

But, knowing my need for prayer, I continue this custom.

Yesterday, returning to Plan Grande from Dulce Nombre, I gave a ride to three people who were going past Plan Grande. César, a kid, recognized me and called out as I passed. I gladly gave the ride to him and to Tomás, who might be his grandfather.

They were going to El Zapote and so got off the truck when I turned into Plan Grande.

Tomás came to the driver’s side door and asked me how much. I told him that he and César had to say an Our Father for me. He asked me, “Now?” I said,
“Fine.”

So Tomás put his hand on my left arm and prayed aloud the Lord’s Prayer.

I was touched – hearing this man pray for me, hearing him pray the prayer Jesus taught us.

I was touched by his tender prayer for me.

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday started with rain in Plan Grande.

A little chill in the air and rain made me wonder what the procession would be like in Dulce Nombre. But when I got there the rain was more like a light mist – and then stopped and started several times.

We started the blessing of palms and the procession in a field near the water tank about a kilometer from the church about 9:30 am.

In Dulce Nombre they usually have twelve kids in albs as part of the procession. 

This year there was a donkey for the procession.

Some of the kids mounted the burro before Padre German arrived.

After the blessing Padre German mounted the burro and we walked to the church, singing all the way.

At the church most of those in the procession entered for Mass, which lasted until about noon.

After Mass, I had to go to Santa Rosa to get a few things and returned to Plan Grande about 3:45 pm.

The catechists from Plan Grande and Candelaria were leading the retreat for the elect from the two communities and La Torera in preparation for the baptisms at the Easter Vigil. They pulled me into doing a few things and leading the final prayer.

The session ended at 4:45 pm. Folks from La Torera asked me to give them a ride to the turn off to their village. Fourteen people got on or into the truck – a violation of the law, but this was an act of mercy. Otherwise they would have had to walk two hours to get home.

When I left them, they wanted to give me some money for the ride. Instead, I asked them to say an Our Father for me – I need it. 

I was really glad to be able to give these people a ride. They have just begun pastoral work in the village this year with the help of neighboring villages - and they have six young people who will be baptized at the Easter Vigil.

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More photos from Holy Week 2015 in Dulce Nombre de María parish can be found here.