Many Great things Are Happening

Oh, how the time flies by. I’m not sure if it’s a sign that I am now old or if it’s a sign that lots of things are happening and I’m always busy. Probably both.

Primary school children showed up to wish Father Juan a happy 65th birthday

It was “special” to attend a Mass the other day for Huipi and her family and her schoolmates at the Champagnat High School of the Mountain. As mentioned in my previous blog, eighteen-year-old Huipi was just recently electrocuted.

Huipi's immediate family was present for the school Mass for Huipi

Students, teachers, and parents present at the school Mass for Huipi

And it just so happened that a lot of “good things” occurred last week, and Mission Mexico was present to assist in any way it could. Mission Mexico supports directly many projects in the impoverished mountain region here, but it also “lends a helping hand” to many other efforts working for the same goals in the area.

Coca Cola isn't the best breakfast, but these kids in Plan Ranchito don't seem to mind

Three good friends—incredible human beings—from Mexico City who are involved in a non-profit organization called Alternativas de Vida Solidaria para el Desarrollo y la Paz visited the mountains for several days; they help in many ways, including the marketing in Mexico City of products produced by the indigenous peoples of the mountains.

Claudia, Agustín, and Beatriz—beautiful friends, living saints

And a group of women from Ayutla de los Libres went “into the mountains” and gave a workshop in Agua Tordillo to teachers from a dozen villages on ways to better educate the indigenous children of the region. These women are specialists in “popular education,” and they taught the teachers about the use of “generative words” and other concepts of a liberating education in terms of literacy training. The teachers were very animated after the day’s training.

The women from Ayutla de los Libres who coordinated the teachers' workshop

In Xochitepec, the Missionaries of the Holy Spirit brought in a gentleman (Sergio) to teach a group of men how to make their own candles. Candles are used for both lighting and for religious ceremonies, and this candle-making effort will hopefully offer candles at a better price to the people and offer employment to a cooperative of men.

First batch of candles produced by the men's group

Pope Francis: "Work is sacred and gives dignity to the people."

I say “men,” because this project at the moment involves candle-making by all men. The women opted to begin their own project of opening a community bakery, and that project has quickly become a most popular endeavor in the area.

 

Some of the women at the bakery in Xochitepec

There are lots of other great things happening. These are all signs of hope in the mountains. Of course, since I’m getting old, I tire more easily as I spend long hours on the dirt/mud roads of the region. So I’ve learned that I occasionally have to stop to take a “power nap” when I’m really exhausted.

If you've got to rest, you've got to rest. What do you think those kids are thinking?

So the struggle goes on, with its mixture of bad and good, darkness and light, death and life. Mission Mexico is a respected ally and partner and friend in this struggle, and the people here are most grateful to the Canadian “friends” who allow Mission Mexico to offer this assistance. Thank you from me too; I can’t think of a more wonderful blessing than the opportunity to be here with such incredible, noble people. Have a great week.

A memorial beside the road near Buena Vista for Maria, a mother who was struck by lightning
and died on July 6, 2015; some of the firewood that she was carrying is still at the site

Butterflies are...Tragic Heroes

“Butterflies are nature’s tragic heroes. They live most of their lives being completely ordinary. And then, one day, the unexpected happens. They burst from their cocoons in a blaze of colors and become utterly extraordinary. It is the shortest phase of their lives, but it holds the greatest importance. It shows us how empowering change can be.” 
                                                                                       ― Kelseyleigh Reber, If I Resist

It’s hard for me to avoid thinking of the title of this note. Yesterday a young girl fell to her death here in Tlapa. Her name, in English, was “Butterfly”; in her native mephaa language, it was “Huipi.”

Huipi — Butterfly. Thank you, my friend. I will miss you.

Huipi had just graduated two months ago from the Champagnat High School of the Mountains, the high school run by the Marist Brothers that Mission Mexico has helped to build and to maintain. As the quote above suggests, most of Huipi’s life was “completely ordinary” for the mountainous reality here—her childhood was one of poverty and struggle. Then she did something “unexpected”—something “utterly extraordinary.” She became the first member of her family to go to high school—something that would have been impossible without Mission Mexico. And just last week she did something even more extraordinary: she started classes in the state university. She was going to become a professional.

Huipi dancing at her school graduation in July

On the weekend she came to Tlapa to visit her brother and father. She noticed that her brother had a bunch of dirty clothes, so she took them to the flat roof of the house and began to wash them while she was waiting for her father to show up. When she heard a vehicle stop in front of the house, she ran to the edge of the roof to see if it was her father. It was! But Huipi apparently slipped and started to fall. She grabbed some wires running along the street beside the house, but they carried live current, and she was badly electrocuted. She fell to the street below, beside her father who was entering the house. She was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. Huipi was declared dead upon arrival.

Mike at the high school with Huipi, Margarita, and Tania

Huipi’s death has deeply affected not only her family but everyone in her village and in her high school. Her three years advancing toward her dream were—as the quote states—“the shortest phase of [her] life,” but she touched many people with her timid yet generous character. She dreamed of changing things in her village. And I daresay that she will do that, just because of her courage to do everything possible to achieve her dream. Her friends are not going to let her dream die.

Huipi helping to set up "Alex's Welding Shop" at the high school

That “dream” that Huipi had is, without a doubt, the same “dream” that the 43 “disappeared” students from the rural teachers college in Ayotzinapa had when they began studying there one year ago. Just yesterday (September 6) an international group of experts belonging to the InterAmerican Human Rights Commission gave a report on the disappearance of those students (on September 26, 2014) that totally contradicts the “official version” that had been given by the Mexican government as it tried to declare “case closed.” For the family members of those 43 students, the case is definitely not closed.

The candles held by the families of the 43 disappeared students symbolize the families' hope

It was an honor to be present last week with the family members of those disappeared students. They had come to Tlapa to participate in the twenty-first anniversary of the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center (another project supported by Mission Mexico). The day began with a Mass celebrated by my good friend, Father Juan, for the 43 disappeared students and their families. Perhaps it was appropriate that the feast day being celebrated was the beheading of John the Baptist. It’s not hard to see the parallels between the injustice and impunity present in the death of John the Baptist and the injustice and impunity present in the deaths and disappearances of so many Mexicans who struggle for change.

The struggle to find the disappeared and learn the truth will continue

In 1989 I was working in El Salvador with the El Salvadoran Nongovernmental Human Rights Commission (although almost no one knew that was what I was doing, since I had a “cover story” as a journalist with a small U.S. newspaper; but that’s a whole other story…). The emotions I experienced last week—sadness, rage, determination, hope— in the Mass for the 43 disappeared young men here in Guerrero reminded me of the emotions I experienced in the Mass I attended in El Salvador in November of 1989 for the six assassinated Jesuit priests and their two female helpers. There too the government tried to cover up this massacre that had been committed by its own military forces. Hopefully, the international community will not allow such a strategy to work in this Mexican situation.

The families of the 43 disappeared students were received with cempasuchitl collars;
these marigold flowers are considered the "flower of the dead" but in a positive sense
that the strong aroma will draw the spirits of the departed to return 

As always, the struggle will go on. The family members of the 43 disappeared students call from me the same admiration and respect that Huipi called from me. To end, thinking of the 43 disappeared students and their families, I’d like to rephrase a bit the paragraph that began this blog:

“Impoverished young people are Mexico’s tragic heroes. They live most of their lives being completely ordinary. And then, one day, the unexpected happens. They burst from their cocoons in a blaze of colors and become utterly extraordinary. It is the shortest phase of their lives, but it holds the greatest importance. It shows us how empowering change can be.”

Two heroic persons struggling for that "empowering change": Abel Barrera, president
of the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center, and Father Juan Molina, parish priest in Xochitepec

Thank you, Huipi. Thank you, Tlachinollan. Thank you, 43 students. Thank you, family members of those students. Thank you, Mission Mexico, for your solidarity with this “empowering change” that so desires to instill gospel values in the lives of all people here. We shall overcome!

Farewell to Hector, A Grand "Astronomer"

These past few weeks have been among the busiest times I’ve had here in the mountains. I have been on the road all over the mountains, trying to help different families in different villages make arrangements for their children to continue their studies in different educational institutions. Our efforts didn’t always work out, but there have been more success stories than failures, and the people are super-appreciative of any “helping hand” they receive in trying to assure a more dignified life for their children.

In July, Carlos graduated from the Champagnat High School in Potoichan. Mission Mexico
helped him to get into a university to study "Sustainable Development."

But today was a sad day for the mountains. At noon today Father Hector Miranda, Missionary of the Holy Spirit, boarded a bus that would eventually deliver him to a new parish in the State of Tabasco. Hector has been my friend for many years, and readers of past blogs know that going to visit him and Father Juan Molina in the isolated, impoverished, indigenous, mountainous parish of San Marcos Xochitepec has always been one of my favorite experiences here in the mountains.

Fathers Juan Molina and Hector Mirando, two incredible human beings

But now Hector’s journey will take him to new places of service—and I will be one of many who will miss him terribly. As I was trying to think of the kind of special person that Hector is, a recent quote from Pope Francis crossed my mind.

Hector saying farewell to Eleuteria, one of many children whose life will never be
the same just for the simple fact of knowing Hector

In his encyclical letter Laudato Si’ On Care for Our Common Home, Pope Francis describes Saint Francis of Assisi. But the words he uses for Francis (in article 10) are an excellent description of Hector. Pope Francis writes:

“He was particularly concerned for God’s creation and for the poor and outcast. He loved, and was deeply loved for his joy, his generous self-giving, his openheartedness. He was a mystic and a pilgrim who lived in simplicity and in wonderful harmony with God, with others, with nature and with himself. He shows us just how inseparable the bond is between concern for nature, justice for the poor, commitment to society, and interior peace.”

Hector "quemando vela" (burning a candle) during his last prayer service in the
small chapel used in Xochitepec by the Missionaries of the Holy Spirit

On Sunday, the farewell celebration for Hector in Xochitepec lasted for hours, because every single person in the village shared a few words with Hector before giving him his or her blessing. Hector is an avid reader, and he and I have conversed on occasion about many books and authors. It was easy to imagine that as the indigenous people were blessing Hector, he was thinking of some words penned by Kahlil Gibran in his book The Prophet:  “You have given me deeper thirsting after life. Surely there is no greater gift to a man than that which turns all his aims into parching lips and all life into a fountain.”

Hector blessing and being blessed

And I chose the title of this blog from another story penned by Kahlil Gibran, this time from a section in a book called The Madman—I know that it’s a book that Hector has reflected on much. One part of The Madman reads:

   

      In the shadow of the temple my friend and I saw a blind man sitting alone. And my friend said, "Behold the wisest man of our land."
      Then I left my friend and approached the blind man and greeted him. And we conversed.
      After a while I said, "Forgive my question, but since when hast thou been blind?"
      "From my birth," he answered.
      Said I, "And what path of wisdom followest thou?"
      Said he, "I am an astronomer."
      Then he placed his hand upon his breast, saying, "I watch all these suns and moons and stars."

I know that Hector will always "watch all these suns and moons and stars"
that are present in himself —and I hope that he can experience the same once again in Xochitepec

Hector, thank you for sharing your love and your wisdom with me and with the people in these mountains. To end, I just want to mention one more story—this one taken from a book that Hector encouraged me to read: Mirrors, by Eduardo Galeano. Galeano writes in that book:

The best paintings by Ferrer Bassa, the Giotto of Catalunia, are on the walls of the convent of Pedralbes, place of bleached stones, in the heights of Barcelona. There, detached from the world, lived the cloistered nuns. It was a one-way street: the gate closed behind them and it closed for good. Their families paid large dowries so they would merit the glory of being forever married to Christ. Within the convent, at the foot of one of the Ferrer Bassa frescoes in the chapel of Saint Michael, there are words that have survived, as if in hiding, the passing of the centuries. No one knows who wrote them. But we do know when. There is a date in Roman numerals, 1426. The words are barely decipherable. In gothic letters, in Catalan, they pled and plead still:

Tell Juan

not to forget me.

Hector and Juan—what a team! And what a blessing to be their friend!

Hector, I can promise you: Juan will not forget you. Nor will I. Nor will the thousands of people whose lives have been enriched by the blessing of knowing you. Thank you for so much. Our gratitude and our love and our support will accompany you. Farewell, my grand astronomer. 

Mission Mexico...Nourishing Hope

It was great to visit Canada for a couple of weeks in June, but it was also great to get back here to the mountains of Mexico. For some reason, I don’t experience as much “culture shock” going from Mexico to Canada as I do coming back to Mexico after a visit to Canada.

Calgary looked bigger after being away for a long time

It was “different” spending time in Calgary and area after not really having spent time there for more than ten years. My gratitude goes out for hospitality and lodging to Fathers Wilbert and William at St. Bonaventure Parish in Calgary, Father Fred Monk in Bow Island, Cal and Barbara O’Brien in Lethbridge, and Len and Margot Lang and family in Calgary. The welcome at St. Gerard’s Parish in Calgary was more than one could have hoped for. I had an incredible barbecue in Cochrane at the home of Joann Churchill. And the time spent with Colleen Flanagan and Rob Morgan and family was precious.

Thank you, Cal (and Barb), for the wonderful hospitality. Lethbridge is blessed to have you.

I loved visiting the Escuela St. John Paul II Elementary School in Calgary, St. Michael’s School in Bow Island, and Catholic Central High School in Lethbridge. It was a thrill to speak to students and teachers in these places. And it was an honor to meet and share the Eucharist together with the people in Bow Island and Foremost. What beautiful people everywhere!

Parishioners in Foremost with a banner sent to Father Fred and Mission Mexico from the villagers in Cuapala

I admit that it was sometimes difficult to share with people “up there” about what life is really like here among the impoverished indigenous peoples. I didn’t have a “prepared speech” or anything. On the one hand, the hopes and dreams of the people are the same as those up north: education, health, security, a better future. On the other hand, the struggle to achieve these “dreams” is so often a more difficult one here.

Mike and Reina in front of her house in Las Juntas

I probably “bragged” a little about the great work being done by Mission Mexico—but is it bragging if it’s true? I think I said somewhere up there that one of my ways of looking at the reality here is to contrast “poverty” and “misery.” I often think that almost everyone here is poor, but their situation can be considered “misery” if these poor people are confronting alone the challenges in their lives. Confronting challenges together nourishes hope…and hope destroys misery. Are the people still poor? Yes, in many ways…But working together for something new, something different, brings any dream closer to reality.

Baltazar is watering his dreams and hopes for the future...

And Mission Mexico is nourishing that hope in so many different ways. The lives of individuals, families, and communities are being changed. Mission Mexico is “partner” and “friend” with so many people struggling for change. And none of that would be possible were it not for the support of the people that I met in southern Alberta this past month. Thank you to one and all for sharing with these sisters and brothers in the mountains of Mexico. 

Thanks, Father Fred, for making possible my wonderful trip

Loss of the Indispensable Ones

There are those who fight one day and they are good.

There are others who fight one year and they are better.

There are those who fight many years and they are very good.

But there are those who fight a lifetime:

those are the ones who are indispensable.

-       Bertolt Brecht

Those are words that were heard often last week after the tragic death in a car accident of Ignacio Suárez Huape and his wife, Inés Montaño. Indispensable—and incredible human beings. I knew them before they were married in the mid-eighties, and later I loved spending time with them and their wonderful children, Alondra and Mauricio (now in their twenties; Alondra was involved in the accident but is now recovering; Mauricio wasn't involved). Nacho had a more public profile (congressman, journalist, human rights activist), but Inés was supportive in all of his endeavors—besides being involved in her own causes. They will definitely be missed as the struggle for life with dignity and justice continues in Mexico.

Nacho and Inés at home one evening

I am most grateful to my great friend Gerardo Debbink for calling me immediately when he heard the sad news. Gerardo is the founding director of Quest Mexico, a non-profit organization in Cuernavaca devoted to social justice through transformative and experiential education. Hundreds of groups from Canada and the United States have taken part in Gerardo’s short-term and semester programs. And Nacho Huape was a frequent participant in Gerardo’s programs—I daresay an unforgettable one for all concerned. Thank you, Gerardo.

Gerardo Debbink of Quest Mexico and Nacho—two great persons

Nacho lived in Cuernavaca, State of Morelos, but he was always concerned about the difficult situation here in the mountains of the State of Guerrero. He called me by phone just a couple of weeks ago to talk about the upcoming state elections here in the state; the elections are scheduled for Sunday, June 7. There has been a lot of violence lately, and no one is too sure just what will happen on June 7. Indeed, in some places (including Tlapa), many groups have said that they won’t allow voting to take place. And more police and army have already shown up to see that the voting does take place. We’ll have to wait and see what happens.

The political advertising is still up for Ulises Fabián, candidate for mayor in Chilapa—a Chilapa
with order and peace, according to this sign. But he was murdered on May 1, 2015. Rest in peace, Ulises.

But life goes on in the mountains. And there are always lots of little signs of life. For example, the other day I happened to encounter Josefa, a woman who was operated on twice for cancer—once in 2002 and once in 2005. In both cases, Mission Mexico helped her get this medical care in Mexico City. She is fine now, and she asked how Padre Federico (Father Fred Monk, founding director of Mission Mexico) is. She will never forget his name.

Josefa—ten years after her last cancer operation

And in Xalpitzahuac last evening, Bishop Dagoberto Sosa Arriaga, bishop of Tlapa, unveiled and blessed a plaque beside the front door of a multi-purpose building (kitchen, health center, education center, meeting room) that is now known as the “Padre Fred Monk Room.”

Sister Lorena and Bishop Dagoberto during the unveiling and blessing of Father Fred's plaque

The light wasn’t great and I’m not a very good photographer, but the plaque (see photo below) reads:

To Mission Mexico — Canada.

Father Fred Monk

In gratitude

For your generosity and commitment

With our Nahuatl sisters and brothers

In the Mountain of Guerrero.

Thank you.

Sisters of St. Philip Neri in Xalpitzahuac

May 2015

Plaque for the Father Fred Monk Room (pretend you don't see the reflection of my image
as I took the photo). "Nahuatl" is the name of the local indigenous culture and language.

And it was a special honour to be invited on Mother’s Day, May 10, to the home of Doña Marcelina in San José Lagunas. Back in 1985, Doña Marcelina and her husband, Angel, invited me often to their home for a meal. This time it was her daughters who prepared the meal, but it was still a great visit.

Mike, Doña Marcelina, and her daughter Estela

In October of 1984, a younger sister of mine was ill in Canada with kidney problems, and I “gave” her a kidney (I put “gave” in quotation marks because I still tell her that she should pay me for the kidney that I “sold” her—no luck so far!). The doctors told me that I should take things easy for a few months, so when I returned to Mexico, I went to live in San José Lagunas for four months. I did take things easy: a bit of carrying water and firewood and a lot of visiting and learning. That was thirty years ago but I still have fond memories of those days.

Mike with children from San José Lagunas in 1985. Some of the children are
still alive thirty years later; too many aren't.

This coming Friday, June 5, I will be flying to Canada. The first week I will be in and around Calgary (is it politically correct to think of Cochrane, Medicine Hat, Bow Island, and Lethbridge as “around Calgary”?) Then I will visit family and friends in Regina before returning to Mexico on June 22. I hope to see old friends (and since I taught in Calgary in the late 70s and early 80s, yes, they will be old—okay, at least older). Have a great week, everyone.

Nacho, Alondra, Mauricio, and Inés.
Thanks for so very much, my friends.

Reformulating Almost Everything I've Ever Learned

All day the words that Father David shared yesterday kept reverberating in my mind.

Father David—someday he will hopefully publish his journal with his "reformulations"

David is a “new” priest—ordained earlier this year—who came to the mountains three months ago, after receiving all of his priestly formation in different urban centers. In a meeting yesterday that was looking at how the diocesan church here might offer better service to the impoverished indigenous population of the mountains, someone asked David if he had any ideas to propose.

Fire (in this case, with candles) is a huge element in terms of interaction with the divine

I don’t remember his full response, but I do remember one expression he used. He smilingly said that he is still trying to put the pieces together, that the experiences with the people in the mountains is—in his words—“forcing me to reformulate almost everything I ever learned.” A lot of heads nodded in the meeting: almost everyone could identify with David’s “reformulating” journey.

The cross and flowers are two more important elements in most rituals

Of course, David had a stark introduction to the spirituality, rituals, and customs of the native peoples. He arrived in mid-February—just the time of year that many families begin to experience real hunger after their small corn crop from the rainy season begins to diminish. It can be a time of dehydration, malnutrition, sicknesses, and real suffering. And it’s a time when the people especially carry out rituals around springs or caves or the highest mountain around their village.

Offerings are made to ensure divine protection

These rituals are designed to propitiate the forces of nature, so that the new rainy season come as soon as possible, overcoming hunger and allowing corn—the life of the people—to flourish once again.  People pray, dance, sing, and offer sacrifices to the cosmic forces. The clouds are called upon to provide a good rain. The winds are invited to not blow too strongly through the corn fields. Lightning is requested to not cause any disasters. And the rain itself is asked to fall softly in order to fertilize well the fields.

Each flower in the necklace of flowers represents some pain or tragedy in the life of the person
preparing the necklace. Having the bishop bring these necklaces to God is a special
blessing in the eyes of the people here—and the bishop is fully aware
of the significance of this ritual.

A couple of weeks ago a group of doctors and dentists came from Mexico City to various villages in the mountains for five days. They offered free checkups to hundreds of children, youth, and adults. It was the first such experience for these medical personnel from a Catholic parish in Mexico City—but probably not the last. Besides just offering their service, they tried to get to understand the people’s perspectives on their lives, their illnesses, their hopes, etc. All the doctors and dentists admitted (like David even after three months) that such an understanding was going to take a lot longer than five days—and a lot of "reformulating."

Unpacking some of the dental equipment brought from Mexico City

Mission Mexico has been accompanying these people for more than fifteen years. Lives have been impacted in small ways and huge ways. The people here are truly grateful for the many signs of solidarity. And they pray too that God (God is the cosmic forces) reward each and every person who has supported Mission Mexico in its efforts to bring life to this very challenging reality here. Have a great week.

Medical and dental equipment loaded on the Mission Mexico truck

Distress and Eustress during Holy Week in the Mountains

I know that “eustress” isn’t the most common word in daily conversation, but the word came to me as I listened on Holy Saturday (the day before Easter) to more than one hundred young people talk about their experiences of living a week among some of the poorest people among the most isolated villages in the mountains of Guerrero.

A young "missionary," Araceli, visiting a family in Llano Grande.
Araceli, from Tlapa, is in her last year of study for a teaching degree,
thanks in part to a scholarship from Mission Mexico.

I remember that I first read the word in a book called Healing the Heart of Democracy, by Parker J. Palmer. In the book, Palmer made a distinction between “distress”—which is negative and destructive—and “eustress”—which is positive and a prod to growth.

Vladimiro—a near-perfect example of "eustress" rather than "distress"

 There was no doubt that the hundred young people from the states of Puebla and Tabasco and from Mexico City and Tlapa had “suffered” and “sacrificed” during their week in the mountains. The travel (breathing in dust on the back of trucks), the food (beans—and often only beans—every day), the sleeping arrangement (straw mat on a dirt floor), the language barrier (the youth spoke Spanish; many of the people in the region spoke only me phaa), the lack of comforts (no cell phone or Internet here), etc.

Palm Sunday procession in Xochitepec

But, amazingly enough, everyone was thrilled that they had had this experience among the indigenous poor. As one young man put it, “I kind of bragged before that I was Mexican. Now I’m not even sure if I know what it means to be Mexican. I never knew that people actually had to live like this in my own country. If these impoverished people live in Mexico, maybe I live above Mexico.”

Dani and Isa (from Tlapa) with children in Loma Macho

The youth had arrived on Palm Sunday to different villages in the parish of Xochitepec. I spent the full week in the parish, visiting different groups each day to be sure that all was going well. It was a week without seeing a paved road—and occasionally walking, driving and wading through rivers, and even crossing a swinging walk bridge (with missing boards) above a steep gully at one o'clock in the morning. The truck was continually in four-wheel drive, and I never got beyond first or second gear. The days were long—usually leaving in the dark and returning in the dark. But it was an amazing experience.

Mike crossing the swinging bridge in Rio Velero

The people in the villages were thrilled to receive these groups of four or five young “missionaries.” The young people interacted with the children, the youth, and the adults. They were encouraged beforehand to visit every single family in the village where they were staying. It was these family visits that most impacted them.

Children from Loma Macho learning through coloring about Jesus' life

So many families had sick children or sick mothers or sick elderly—yet this was just “daily life” for the people. The young “missionaries” felt impotent in responding to so many needs. Many had gone to the villages thinking that they would be “bringing the Word of God” to the people (in fact, one group even had that motto on their T-shirts); on their last day, these same missionaries articulated that the Word of God was brought more to them than to the people.

Eleuteria, Monica, Lizbeth, and Sara. Monica and Lizbeth are sisters
and lived in different villages during Holy Week. Monica is a university
student in Tlapa, thanks in part to a scholarship from Mission Mexico.

Another impactful experience for the young “visitors” was the re-enactment in the villages of the events of Holy Week. Without the presence of a priest, the villagers still relived the events of Jesus’ last week of life. The “re-enactment” wasn't always exactly faithful to the gospels—for example, one village washed hands at the Last Supper, not feet; another village used tortillas and Pepsi, not bread and wine; another locked up on Holy Thursday night the young man playing the role of Judas instead of the young man playing Jesus;—but everything worked out fine.

Jesus meets his mother in this Good Friday reenactment in Llano Grande

In the Holy Week issue of the newspaper that the diocesan seminary here in Tlapa distributes, I wrote an article about Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem. In that article I mentioned the importance and the beauty of reenacting the events of that week, but I also stressed that, as disciples of Jesus, we can’t forget what led up to the events of that week. My final paragraph went something like this (it reads better in Spanish than in English, I think):

Father Hector walking to Rio Velero (he got us lost walking;
I still think he deserved to slip in the river and get soaked)

“Paraphrasing something written by José Antonio Pagola in his book Volver a Jesús (Turning Back to Jesus), we must remember that what was for Jesus the objective, the rationale, the heart of his message, and the passion that drove his life was the kingdom of God. We followers are invited not only to turn our lives over to God; we are invited to ‘seek the kingdom of God and its justice’; we are invited to collaborate with Jesus in working toward a world with greater justice, dignity, life, and love for all.”

Easter Vigil service in Xochitepec

I think that this was one of the “lessons” learned by the young “missionaries” during their Holy Week experience in the mountains. I think it is one of the reasons why Father Fred Monk started Mission Mexico. I think it is one of the reasons why so many good people assist Mission Mexico in its efforts to live and share this gospel message among the impoverished people here. Let’s hope that the future will show more signs of this kingdom of God in the mountains of Mexico—and in your life and in mine.

Driving in the early dawn (okay, maybe just a little
before the early dawn)