¡Oscar Romero...Presente!

On March 24, 1980, Oscar Arnulfo Romero, the Archbishop of San Salvador, was assassinated while giving Mass on a Monday evening in a small chapel. Although the bullet pierced Monseñor Romero’s heart, it would not be able to keep Romero silent. If you speak with most Salvadorans – particularly the poor, marginalized and oppressed who Romero sided with and placed the church with – they will say that their Monseñor is ever present and alive in his pueblo salvadoreño (the Salvadoran people).

To give a brief introduction to Monseñor Romero. He was born to a poor, rural family, entering the minor seminary when he was only 13 years old. He was ordained a priest at the age of 24 and commenced his work as a parish priest and diocesan secretary in San Miguel, El Salvador. In 1967, Romero was named Secretary-General of the Salvadoran Bishops’ Conference, and also served as the secretary of the Central American Bishops’ Conference which allowed him to participate in the Conference of Latin American Bishops in 1968 in Medellín, Colombia which birthed a Church committed to the poor and their struggle. In 1970 Romero was named an auxiliary bishop and in 1974 was named Bishop of the Diocese of Santiago de María.

The seeds of Romero’s conversion lie partly in his work as Bishop of the Diocese of Santiago de María. Here he returned to direct pastoral work with the people. This was important for Romero because his priestly ministry was directly related to the people. His view of reality began to change, as he was accompanying the people who were suffering, dying, struggling to survive, and calling him to rise up and do something. Other incidents and events, like the massacre at Tres Calles, were important as well in committing himself further to the poor and to his country.

In February 1977, Romero was appointed Archbishop of San Salvador. Shock and disappointment filled the hearts and minds of many clergy and Salvadorans with Romero being named Archbishop. He seemed to be stuck in the past in his ways, thoughts, and ideas. The ideas produced by the Medellín Conference – particularly those of liberation, participation, and Christian base communities – were difficult for Romero to bear and at first he had felt very unsure about these changes the Latin American church was experiencing. Afraid that he would probably not rise up to the challenge of the country and of the people presented at his feet, soon enough El Salvador would discover one of its most underestimated and unpredicted saviors. 

On March 12, 1977, Father Rutilio Grande, SJ was killed along with an older man and a young boy while driving his Jeep to preside at Mass in El Paisnal. A close friend of Romero’s, Padre Grande’s death had a profound impact on Monseñor Romero. This ultimately led Romero to cancel all Masses in the archdiocese on the following Sunday and hold a single Mass at the Cathedral in San Salvador. With an overwhelming attendance of a hundred thousand people, Romero proclaimed to the Salvadoran people the role of the Church in accompanying its people in their struggle for liberation. Monseñor Romero crossed the threshold. He committed himself and the Salvadoran church to side with the poor and the oppressed. He now began to be the savior that his pueblo salvadoreño was calling him to be.

Ignacio Ellacuría, SJ, a previous UCA rector and one of the six Jesuit priests to be killed in November 1989, noted in reflecting on the life and works of Monseñor Romero, that “with Monseñor Romero, God passed through El Salvador.” What powerful words used to describe an imperfect human being. And that is who Romero was, and how Romero saw himself, as another ordinary human being.

Romero preached a theology of liberation that called for all to commit to the struggle of liberation and justice of the Salvadoran people. Romero sided with the poor, believing and preaching in a God that identifies with the poor. His words, thoughts, and actions eventually led to his assassination. He strove for justice, equality, peace, end to violence, and so forth. For many in El Salvador who knew Romero, witnessed his transforming homilies, or heard of him through word of mouth, and even those who are born in the second generation of the war, not having experienced the war years directly, are able to receive a glimpse at the life and ministry of Archbishop Romero and his continual impact on the Salvadoran community. For many here in El Salvador as well as Latin America, Romero is a prophet, the Latin American saint (although his canonization still awaits), the Jesus of Nazareth in Latin America.

"With Monseñor Romero, God passed
through El Salvador."
- Ignacio Ellacuría, SJ

Gustavo Gutierrez, the “father” of liberation theology, stated that “I think that we could say, without exaggeration, that the life and death of Monseñor Romero divides the recent history of the Latin American church into a before and after.” For the Salvadoran people, particularly those who lived through and experienced the brutality and violence of the war years and the years following the Peace Accords in 1992, Monseñor Romero was the symbol of change and hope for the Salvadoran people and the future of their homeland. Interestingly enough, it was shortly after the assassination of Romero when the FMLN guerrillas become more active in fighting the military and government, and thus the war began in 1981 (after the death of Romero) continuing for 11 years until the Peace Accords. So what does Gutierrez mean when referring to the life and death of Romero being the before and after of the Latin American church?

Prior to his death, Monseñor Romero gave a homily in which he said, “If they kill me, I will be resurrected in the Salvadoran people.” The three years as Archbishop of San Salvador and the same three years leading up to his killing mark an important time for the Salvadoran people – a time where faith was put into action, and justice was demanded by the clergy and the poor alike. The poor became aware of their realities and through the help of many of the church, particularly Romero, their eyes were opened to a world where the poor was not supposed to be living in such marginalized conditions and ways of life, that God did not approve of their oppression and suffering, rather God was on the side of the poor and oppressed.

"If they kill me I will rise in the
Salvadoran people." - Romero

Following his death, Monseñor Romero rose in his people. Despite the 11 years of war, massacres, and mass suffering, Oscar Romero remained in his pueblo salvadoreño. Romero’s presence differs from person to person, but particularly for those who sided with the poor, and the poor themselves, Romero has stood as a constant reminder of the hope, courage, faith, and justice that one must continue to strive and fight for.



Another interesting point to mention is that it is now 2012 – 20 years after the signing of the Peace Accords and 32 years after the murder of Monseñor Romero. There are those in El Salvador who vividly remember the years of civil war and the Church that Monseñor Romero placed at the side of the poor – they lived through the horror and violence that spread across the 20,000 squared km country and in many cases lost loved ones during these years. However an interesting portion of Salvadoran society to examine is the younger generation that has little to no memory of these years and has no direct contact with individuals like Oscar Romero. With around 35 percent of the population being below 15 years of age, a significant amount is too young to remember Monseñor Romero. Nonetheless, his life, words, and legacy continue to influence profoundly the lives of Salvadorans. According to Ana Grande, a 30 year old, second-generation Salvadoran-American, “Romero matters regardless of the generation…For the younger generation, although they didn’t have firsthand contact, it is a remembrance of faith and justice. Others may have lost family members during the civil war and reflect on the courage that each of them had alongside Romero.” Ana Grande, the great niece of Rutilio Grande, SJ, further states that “Salvadorans in this violence-stricken country call upon San Romero de America in the hopes of converting their gangster children into productive citizens…They call upon Romero in times of sickness or in despair. Whatever the case is, Romero is always present.”

Romero’s death has led to his ever-lasting presence in the lives of Salvadorans, especially those who continue to be oppressed and suffer from gangs, violence, poverty, inequality, lack of employment opportunities, etc. One reason it seems that Romero continues to play a large role in motivating Salvadorans and maintaining their faith and strength during tough times is because although Romero spoke about the injustices occurring during his own time when he was alive, his words, homilies, and actions relate to the present day very much as well. El Salvador continues to suffer from poverty, inequalities, oppression, lack of equitable and effective infrastructure, violence, corruption, and the list goes on. Romero serves as a continual reminder and advocator for the current times and the need for social justice.

Romero still remains close to his Salvadoran people. His image can be found in nearly every impoverished and marginalized community, many parishes, Christian base communities, and even in the occasional store. His presence even extends to murals along roads. Monseñor Romero is ever present in the lives of Salvadorans. According to Father Hernández Pico, SJ, people remember his presence…”that presence, that closeness, that merciful attitude to suffering is what the Salvadoran people remember.”

Padre Tilo: Call to Calvary

“It is dangerous to be a Christian in our world. It is almost illegal to be a Catholic in our world, where the very preaching of the gospel is subversive and where priests are exiled for preaching it!” (Rutilio Grande, SJ)

“The code of the Kingdom of God is love…love, without boundary lines, exalted and offered in Jesus. It is the love of brothers, which breaks down every sort of barrier and boundary and which must overcome hatred itself. We do not hate anyone; we love even those Cains.” (Rutilio Grande, SJ)

One of the aspects that I love about the Casa program is that it incorporates the history and context of the country, the region, and the lives of the people into not only the courses, but also in our spirituality nights or community nights, in our gatherings with Salvadoran students from the Programa Becario, in our praxis sites, etc. And at this moment, it seems only appropriate to speak about one of these aspects: the prayer said prior to every meal, which speaks to the world, but one should not forget the context in which it emerged from – El Salvador in the 1970s – and from who it emerged – Fr. Rutilio Grande, SJ.

Vamos todos al banquete,
a la mesa de la creación;
cada cual con su taburete
tiene un puesto y una misión.

Hoy me levanto muy temprano;
ya me espera la comunidad;
voy subiendo alegre la cuesta,
voy en busca de tu amistad.

Venimos desde Soyapango,
San Antonio de la Zacamil,
Mexicanos, ciudad Delgado,
Santa Tecla y de La Bernal.

Dios invita a todos los pobres
a esa mesa común por la fe,
donde no hay acaparadores
y a nadie le falta el con qué.

Dios nos manda a hacer de este mundo
una mesa donde haya igualdad,
trabajando y luchando juntos,
compartiendo la propiedad.

On Monday, March 12^th, we celebrated the 35^th anniversary of the death of Padre Grande, a Salvadoran Jesuit priest, who gave his life to his pueblo – this world, a region experiencing such oppression and violence, his birth country of El Salvador, and, first and foremost, the common man and woman. Padre Grande served and accompanied the poor – recognizing their right to learn about their realities, to organize, to be human beings.

I first want to say that I have been fascinated and intrigued by Padre Grande or Padre Tilo, as many who knew him called him (which I will refer to him now one in this reflection), for quite some time – since 2008 to be exact. On my second service immersion trip to Honduras with U of D Jesuit High School in the summer of 2008, we spent a weekend in San Salvador where we visited the sites of the six Jesuit martyrs, the housekeeper and her daughter at the Jesuit Residence of the UCA, the museum of Centro Romero, and the chapel where Monseñor Romero was murdered, his residence and his tomb underneath the Cathedral. It was on this trip where I learned for the first time about El Salvador’s terrible and brutal civil war that led to the deaths of not only members of the revolutionary front, but also innocent men, women and children, including various religious men and women. It was also this experience (combining my experiences in the San Pedro Sula garbage dump community in Honduras as well as my weekend in El Salvador visiting some sites of the martyrs) when I began to reflect deeper on my faith and my vocation. Thus, I look back today citing that this experience as a whole in the summer of 2008 serves at the cornerstone of responding to God’s call to become Catholic and also lies at the heart of my vocation.

So where does Padre Tilo fit in? Well, Padre Tilo was the first religious and Jesuit to be killed during these horrific years. A few minutes before 6 p.m. on his way to preside at Mass in El Paisnal, the jeep that Padre Tilo was driving was gunned down by various men causing the vehicle to go off the main road and placing bullets in several parts of the bodies of Padre Tilo and an old man, Don Manuel, and a young boy, Rutilio Lemus, who were accompanying Padre Tilo from Aguilares to El Paisnal for the 7 p.m. Mass. Three children, who were picked up along the way to El Paisnal, were not harmed by the bullets, and were told to leave by the men who killed Padre Tilo, Don Manuel, and Rutilio Lemus.

On the night before, March 12^th, 2012 (the 35^th anniversary of Padre Tilo’s death), I read a chapter from “The Voice of Blood: Five Christian Martyrs of Our Time,” written by William O’Malley, SJ. In his book, O’Malley examines the lives of five Jesuits who ultimately sacrificed their lives for others and for the Reign of God. Interestingly enough, these five Jesuits were killed during the last three months of 1976 and the first three months of 1977. The chapter I read was about Padre Tilo, providing some information on his childhood, his vocation story, times of struggle and doubt during his formation years, his conversion experiences, and ultimately his work in Aguilares that led to him being killed and deemed “subversive” and a “communist” by those who found his work with the poor to be a “negative” effect to their lives and their work.

Rather than going in-depth into this chapter, which I read almost immediately after I received the book, I will emphasis a few points made by Fr. O’Malley about Padre Tilo.

First. I think there is a common assumption that life-changing, and ground-breaking figures have it all figured out. Padre Tilo, who is said to have partially led to the conversion experience of Monseñor Oscar Arnulfo Romero and is still remembered today in the hearts, thoughts, and words of thousands of Salvadorans, struggled immensely. On the days leading up to his successive ordination as subdeacon, deacon and priest, Padre Tilo experienced “the greatest personal crisis of his life,” wondering if he had even received his “minor orders” of poverty, chastity, and obedience, which he professed at his First Vows, in a worthy manner. These doubts, among others, haunted Padre Tilo and in general he struggled in these years of the main formation process.

Second. Faith that does justice. His conversion experiences highlight his relationship with Christ and his desire to be more like Christ, always striving and realizing that he is not perfect and that is ok. His first conversion took place in Brussels as the Church went through a conversion process during Vatican II. His second conversion resulted from his experiences with the poor of El Salvador and his work in compiling a report on the social and economic realities of the poor, which constituted the majority of the Church in El Salvador. Another way of explaining his conversion experiences is to note his transition from faith that was experienced in the Church and in one’s immediate surroundings, lacking concern for the greater community and world, and becoming a faith that does justice – that preaches the Good News to the poor, oppressed, and victimized, and stands up for injustices no matter what the cost.

Third. Padre Tilo believed in the Church of the poor. As a professor of pastoral theology at the seminary in San Salvador, Padre Tilo brought his students, and future priests, and the faces of the poor to the same table – seminarians would be working and living in the barrios and shantytowns; he would not allow for a misconceived image of priests walking around the rectory in their robes, reading books and having tea with the women from the parish on Friday afternoons. “If they were going to follow the call of the priesthood, then let it be the call to Calvary, not the call to aloof and subsidized privilege” (O’Malley, 14). Responding to a religious vocation meant more than anything, to give one’s life fully and completely to God and to the Reign of God. As they say in Spanish, entregado a Dios.

Four. In one of his reflections, Padre Tilo noted that “I ambition only the service of God and nothing else.” Padre Tilo deeply desired to serve and love God – and for him, that was through el pueblo salvadoreño (the Salvadoran people). In September 1972, Padre Tilo moved to Aguilares with a team of four Jesuits to, first, “immerse themselves in the lives of the peasants;” second, to increase the level of awareness among the peasants, or in the words of Paulo Freire – conscientización; and third, to assist them in understanding their lives in light of the “liberating message of the Gospel” (33). It would ultimately be this work that ended in the horrific, disgusting death of Padre Tilo and two community members. Padre Tilo understood that his vow of poverty signified “permanent instability” – never knowing what would happen when he helped the peasants realize their social, political, and economic realities, or when he spoke directly against the military and government for their oppression of the poor and marginalized (40). And how was Padre Tilo able to continue working in pursuit of the Reign of God, without letting fear, temptations, and a desire for comfort and safety overcome him and his work? I wish I could hear his answer to this, but I feel that Padre Tilo would respond saying that he did not have an option when the poor were being killed and forced in such degrading marginalization, and that his deepest desire was to serve God, striving to be like Christ, accepting to the ‘call to Calvary’.

Upon realizing that a truck was speeding up behind his jeep on their way to El Paísnal, Padre Tilo understood that his time had come, and responded to the five people in his jeep, “we must do what God asks of us.” Shortly after, bullets entered the jeep, striking the bodies of Padre Tilo and Don Manuel multiple times. After the jeep veered into a ditch, the men surrounded the jeep, opening the door to three speechless, nerve-wrecked children who were allowed to leave. As the three kids ran away, a final shot was heard, striking young Rutilio Lemus in the forehead.

As I read this chapter of O’Malley’s book, there were points when I was drawn to tears. This is not the first time that I have heard about Rutilio Grande or his disturbing death and the death of Don Manuel and little Rutilio. I am still trying to understand the meaning behind my emotions and thoughts in regards to reading about Padre Tilo and learning more about him and his life. Nevertheless, I believe that part of my emotions stem from how much I felt I was present on March 12, 1977 on the road from Aguilares to El Paisnal, witnessing their deaths.

Since my first encounter with El Salvador in 2008, I recall learning about Padre Tilo and how his death led to the conversion of Monseñor Romero, the Archbishop of San Salvador, who after the death of one of his closest, if not closet, friends, decided to dedicate his life and give himself completely and fully (entregar) to the Salvadoran people, especially the poor and oppressed. These two individuals, in addition to several other Jesuits who gave their lives, have played such an important role in my faith and my deepest desires.

Thirty-five years later, Padre Tilo continues to remind us that we are all called to do that which God asks of us.

Sources:

Carranza, Salvador. Conversation with Jesuit priest who served in Aguilares with Rutilio Grande, SJ.

O’Malley, William. The Voice of Blood: Five Christian Martyrs of Our Time. Orbis Books: Maryknoll, New York. 1995.

Photos from: 

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1426/1041589842_e91f11c97e.jpg

http://altahoradelanoche.blogspot.com/2007/03/rutilio-grande-30-aos-de-su-martirio.html

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2iDgHSg9CO0kZR8Zy46g5TqEYaRrm9Xd0n8bQVUYM-NGuIIQwtKsdqqAQuzj6g4-uwvI44O6iaFsCJFnlJI04CyFRDZBcK1k2BUOvml_DH3cnfs4wKXgSraizanoj97MlDSI3ymghhF91/s1600/Rutilio.png

http://www.romerotrust.org.uk/pictures/resize.php?image=Episcopal%20Ordination/MOAR_9.jpg&nh=400&nw=500&ah=400&aw=500&t=jpg

Día de la Amistad

It has been almost a month since my last blog post, and over the past few days I have been thinking about the reasoning behind that – why haven’t I been blogging as much?

Rather than going into great detail with this, I will just say that I have found words, pictures, etc. not sufficient enough in explaining what is going on in my life now, how El Salvador has been having such a strong impact in my thoughts and in my heart, and also how my Honduran family has been continuing to shape my life.

So I will be honest in saying that these blog pieces will not be able to adequately account for my experiences here in El Salvador and in life. Despite this, I will try my best to convey my thoughts, experiences, ‘breaking of hearts’, etc. to you and I ask that you bear with me as this is an ongoing journey and I am happy you will be able to share with me in these travels.

I guess there is no other perfect way than to start back up on the blog posting during the week of Valentine’s Day, or as it is better known here in El Salvador, Día de la Amistad (Day of Friendship). And I like the way the Salvadorans phrase February 14^th. Yes, of course the major stores still sell candy and heart cards, etc., but the commercial aspect is not as present and entrenched as it is in the States. Among my fellow Casa students as well as Casa staff and Salvadorans that I know, Día de la Amistad is a time for friends and a time to show to one another what that friendship really means. What that love really means to an individual and to a relationship.

With a month in to my four-month program in El Salvador, much has happened so far and much more will be happening. And I want to share many of these experiences but I think I will wait and touch on what love means to me.

On March 30, 1991, my parents brought into a life a child. A boy who they decided to call Matthew James Ippel. A boy whom they had no idea what he would look like as he grew older, they would not know what life path he would take, if/how/when he would fall in love, what would grab his interest and his heart, and ultimately what would ‘wreck’ his life. They took a risk in all of this.

So in all that my parents did for me, they did out of love and with love. The genuine love that is more than the words, “I love you,” and extends beyond the grasp of one’s knowledge and imagination. With that love I was brought into the world, raised in a wonderful family, and have had life-changing experiences. Over these past 20 (almost 21!) years, I have learned what love really is and how that love can manifest itself. And to be honest my understanding of love is constantly transforming.

This past Tuesday on Día de la Amistad I was able to Skype with my Dad. I had a few things on my mind that I wanted to talk to him about and it turned out to be a very beautiful conversation. And I cannot get that conversation out of my mind and my heart. After telling my Dad about my experiences here in El Salvador so far and expressing to him how the Spirit has been moving within me and how I find myself discerning more and more what it is that I am called to do in life, my Dad replied, expressing his joy and happiness that I was allowing myself to be vulnerable and to be so open to these experiences that it is having such a profound impact and insight onto my life and my future. He also said that all that he and my Mom have wanted for me is to discern what it is that is most important for me, and how I want to live my life in relation to the world around me – in a sense, my Dad told me the words of Fr. Arrupe, SJ:

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

I have been thinking about love for a while now. I guess my time back in Central America (being first in Honduras and now in El Salvador) has helped me in thinking more about love. I give my parents so much credit and express my gratitude for them in loving me in the way that they have and continue to do. In addition, their freedom in loving me in a way that I constantly strive to do – to love like Christ, with open arms, without limits – has been one of the best gifts that I have ever received. My parents could have easily kept me at home, boxed me in, and not let life, love, or others affect me, my desires, and my understanding of the world. My parents did the opposite. They raised me with the door open, open to the world, to the poor, to the marginalized, to the other. And because of that, I am who I am. Because of their freedom in loving me, I have been able to find love in various parts of my life – one of which, my love for Wilfredo and his family, has manifested itself in such incredible, and unpredictable ways.

Love is a journey, it’s challenging and hard at times, it brings tears of sadness and of joy, it allows for one to break another’s heart, and for others to break your heart.

Spending a few days in the community of El Ocotillo at Wilfredo’s home with his family was a definite recent highlight and it was a time when I saw the interconnectedness of my faith, my love for Christ and for Wilfredo’s family, my deepest desires in life, my ability to be in solidarity with others, and the love that I have for my family and how they have raised me and the freedom that they have given me and entrusted me with.

Since this last summer, my relationship with the community of El Ocotillo and particularly with Wilfredo’s family has evolved. I have found each time that I returned this summer on International Samaritan trips, and this past January when I visited before starting my program here in El Salvador, to be so life-giving, and life-changing, and found that departing and saying farewells is tough. To be honest, I struggled a lot when leaving Wilfredo’s family. I did not want to go. I enjoyed so much being with them and spending time with them. And being able to do all of that in the presence of each other made it for a very special few days. The day I left to go to El Salvador was difficult for me and for the family. I tried to communicate how much my time with them meant to me and how much they mean to me and how much I love them and deeply care for them. And hearing similar responses from them to me was a true blessing and showed me the power of love and being vulnerable. The hardest part came when I had to board a van to the airport. I gave hugs to everyone, saying my good-byes, and allowing the tears to pour down my face. I am an emotional person, so I expected the tears to play a role in the farewell. I did not expect, however, the tears to be shared by all – the entire family was crying. Out of love and joy – without a doubt at that moment I saw the presence of God in my relationship with la familia de Monje Cruz.

Another realization that I recognized a few days later was that my heart was/is broken. As I gave Nefi, one of the eldest boys, un abrazo (a hug) I told him that he was like my younger brother and that he meant the world to me. After spending such a beautiful three days with this family and having such a beautiful relationship evolve and blossom into such a beautiful gift from God, I realized that this family had broken my heart in such an incredible and beautiful way. Then, there is the other side of the coin. As I embraced Nefi and saw the tears trickling down his eyes, I realized that I had broken his heart and the hearts of his family. What a grace-filled moment. Another moment in engaging the real and being in la realidad (reality).

I do not know what this love means for me and for my life. As much as I want to know how this will be playing a role for the rest of my life and to what extent I will get to spend time with Wilfredo’s family, this is in God’s hands and I place my full patient trust with God. I do know one thing for sure. That falling in love is amazing, and I have been able to experience that “falling in love” as Fr. Arrupe describes it at various points in my life. I love falling in love. And the beauty of it is that it doesn’t end once one falls in love. I know that if I continue to be open and vulnerable, continue to allow myself to evolve and further develop as a person, as a lover, as a friend, then love will continue to manifest itself in ways that I cannot even imagine in my life, ways that will continue to shape and mold me, and will ultimately decide my life. A life lived in the pursuit of love.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for loving me and for providing me with a foundation of love, and for taking a risk with me. I love you both.

Part 1: A Joyous Christmas in the Holy Land, The Beauty of Silence, and Off to Another Part of the World

It has been a while since my last post and I have been meaning to post for sometime now. I am not sure the best way to go about sharing my experiences in the Holy Land, my time in Detroit with family and friends, my silent retreat, my brief visit to Honduras, and now my first week in El Salvador. I could probably spend several blog posts on each and only touch the surface, so my thought is that I will somehow mold these experiences under a few blogs – a time of transition. And who knows, as the Spirit moves within me, I may find myself in the future recalling some experiences of those mentioned above or even in my time in Jordan.

After finishing my semester in Jordan, I spent four days visiting parts of the Holy Land, mainly Jerusalem and Bethlehem. Despite the amount of tourists, the countless shops filling the narrow streets of Jerusalem’s Old City with men inviting you into their shops with the “best prices” and “authentic souvenirs,” I found my four days to be very spiritual and religious, which is what I had hoped for. Traveling alone, despite a few lonely moments, allowed me to see what I wanted to see and whenever I wanted to. Thus, I was very mobile which worked well to my advantage.

I find it difficult to give full justice to the Holy Land and what I experienced as a Catholic pilgrim. In a sense, my time in the Holy Land was a pilgrimage – I visited historical sites of interest to the three major world religions and followed in the footsteps of Jesus of Nazareth. My brief time in the Holy Land was rushed in some ways, as I attempted to see all that I possibly could, and too short because there is so much to see that I could use a few weeks rather than a few days to accomplish that, yet despite those two things I found myself deeply enjoying the time I could spend in the Holy Land, desiring more and more to return in the future (inshallah!).

Rather than listing and talking about every single site that I visited, I prefer to highlight three events/themes.

1.     Hospitality in Bethlehem. On my first day in Jerusalem, I met a friend – a person who came to show me his family and what hospitality and Christianity really means. His name is Khalid, and we met as he was offering to drive me in his taxi up the Mount of Olives. Well, I did not want to pay for a ride up, but the walk was steep and he said he was heading up there anyway. So I entered his taxi and in about five minutes after getting to the top and talking briefly, he says he wants to take me to Bethlehem to see his brother, Khalil. Well, I have a hard time saying no. So of course, we went. And I look back and see that God played a major role in my saying “yes” to this experience. We spoke the entire way about Palestinians and their lives, their struggles, and the unfortunate circumstances occurring in the Holy Land. I met his brother, who owned a shop near Manger Square in Bethlehem – full of beautiful, handcrafted pieces of art made mostly of olive wood in their home. The two days that I was in Bethlehem, I spent most of my time with Khalil and his family at their shop where I was served breakfast, multiple servings of coffee and tea (a very Middle Eastern courtesy) throughout the day. Friends of Khalil’s would come by throughout the day and sit down beside us around the charcoal fire outside his shop, as the weather was pretty cold and latter began to rain. We spoke about everything – Christianity, Christmas, Palestinians, the conflict in the Holy Land, their hopes and dreams. I was brought into a community, a family, with only a desire to welcome me and accompany me as a fellow Christian. 

2.     Christmas Eve Midnight Mass at St. Catherine’s Church in Bethlehem. From across the world, pilgrims gathered in St. Catherine’s Church to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. It was such a privilege and beautiful opportunity to spend Christmas Eve in the birthplace of Christ, joining the Church in celebration of the mystery of Christ’s birth.

3.     In Jerusalem, on every Friday afternoon around 3 pm, the Franciscan Friars lead the Stations of the Cross and process down Via Dolorosa with pilgrims and tourists, culminating at the Tomb of Christ in the Church of the Holy Sepluchre. Prior to departing for Bethlehem on Friday, December 23^rd, I participated in the procession of the Stations of the Cross with the Franciscans. It was such an incredible experience to imagine the 14 stations that Christ, through pain and misery, gave himself completely to God, and in doing this our sins were forgiven.

After this joyful, amazing, and at times lonely experience, I returned to the States after four months of living abroad. Now, I knew that time flies when you are abroad (thus, savor every moment), but I did not realize that the same would happen at home. My days were spent mostly visiting with family and friends, catching up with them, sharing my experiences, and hearing theirs. It was relaxing and nice to sleep in my own bed. But of course, I have this bug these days which does not allow me to stay at home in Dearborn Heights for more than a week (just kidding Mom and Dad!). So from January 2^nd to the 8^th, I was in St. Paul, MN for a silent retreat at the Jesuit Novitiate.

I am amazed at what silence can do. I found my prayer and spiritual life delving deeper and deeper as the time went by, and found myself discerning more and more about what it is that God has in store for me – and it looks good! I have found myself more and more growing in a deeper love and joy with who I am and where it is that I feel that God is calling me. And in addition to this, I have found that in the past 6 months I have developed a deeper relationship with God and with Christ and for that I cannot be more grateful.

As I returned from my silent retreat, I spent a few days at home, visiting with friends and family, visiting the High and spending a few evenings with the Jesuits at the High. After only a few weeks back in the States, I took off again. I guess there is a bug within me after all! I flew on Sunday to San Pedro Sula, Honduras where I spent three of the most amazing days with my Honduran family in El Ocotillo.