Ke a Leboga, Francistown...

My two months in Botswana has come to an end...I can hardly believe it.  To be honest, my leaving Francistown has been quite bittersweet.  Of course I am excited to be home, but I also have felt so at home here that I feel I am leaving home.  The people here have literally welcomed me into their hearts.  I have never felt a stranger among them.  Their good-byes and well wishes, and even gifts, have been so overwhelming to me.  After all, I've only been here 2 months, and yet I almost can't imagine a day without them, and many here have expressed the same to me. 

The affect this has had on me is tangible...I know I am a different person because of the time I have spent here, and I know part of my heart will remain in Francistown.  I hope I get to come back one day, sooner than later, and see them again: my Batswana family.

I hope I get to share my experiences here with all of you in person.  I ask you to pray for the people of Francistown, Botswana, and also in a special way for the Seminarian Board of the Diocese of Reno.  If they had not said "Yes," I would not be here right now.

I also ask you to seriously consider coming to Botswana for your own voluntary experience.  The people will LOVE YOU and you will never be the same.

I will see you all very soon...

Ke a leboga, Francistown.  Ke a lorato.

Corn dogs and apples...

So, I did celebrate my 26th birthday here in Botswana, and it was fun.  I didn't expect it to really be much of a big deal, but Fr. Sylvester got really excited about it, and before I knew, we were having a small party.

A couple of weeks ago, I was approached by a friend here in the parish who asked me if I could make her an American food that she has always wanted to try...I expected something complicated or fancy...she said "corn dogs."  LOL I couldn't stop laughing!  So, I decided to make corn dogs for my birthday dinner.  I also made Apple Charlotte with Rooibos creme anglaise for dessert.  The corn dogs were delicious!  She said that I made her year.  She even called her cousin (who apparently shared her desire to try corn dogs) to tell her lol.  It is truly the simple things in life...  The Apple Charlotte was pretty good.  I think I left it in the oven too long and it got a little dry.  But thanks to the anglaise, it was also delicious!  The sisters gave me a book and a key chain and Fr. Sylvester bought me a mug with pictures of the wildlife on it.  I had a blast!  It was a very nice and pleasant birthday :-)

The things that matter.

Today is my 26th birthday!  Kind of weird to think about...26 lol.  Before I left for Botswana, I was having an ongoing discussion with my friend Jackie about whether or not 26 is mid-20s or late-20s.  Of course she said it was mid and I said it was late lol.  For some reason, turning 26 made me feel old.  After this past weekend, it doesn't matter anymore.

I spent the weekend in Kasane.  It is in the north of Botswan, near the Zimbabwe border and is the tourist hot spot.  People from all over the world come to Kasane to see the wildlife.  It has the highest concentrations of zebra and elephants in the world...it also has the higest concentration of people with AIDS in the world. 

I stayed at the mission of St. Francis of Assisi with Fr. Marek from Poland.  He is quite a character.  Very politically incorrect and very intelligent.  He also has a great sense of humor and is probably one of the most gentle and humble pastors I've met in a long time.  The mission is very small and run down, but they are in the midst of completing a renovation project.  He has also created a recording studio in the church for the kids choir he has created to record CDs. I can't remember the name of the group in seTswana, but in English it means "Children of the Elephants" because there are more elephants than people in Kasane.  I'll talk more about these kids in a bit.

On Saturday, we left the thatched-roof house and drove to Chobe National Park.  We took a loaf of bread, butter, marmelade, cheese spread, and juice.  It was the most incredible experience.  I have seen all of these animals before...it was nothing new in that sense.  But what was incredible was to see them just grazing on the side of the dirt road...giraffes, elephants, buffalo, zebras, crocodiles (HUGE crocodiles), all kinds of birds, baboons, mongooses (or is that mongeese?), antelope, hippos, and even some honey badgers.  I can't even describe what it was like to just see them walking around, being themselves.  It was truly awesome.  And to see so much land that has VERY little human interference...the roads are all dirt and there were only a few structures (bathrooms).  Otherwise there was no sign of humanity.  It was breathtaking.  We spent almost 12-hours on the safari...I didn't get sick of the animals once.  They were so beautiful and majestic.  It was incredible.  The only thing I didn't see were the lions...I've decided to take that as a sign that I am meant to come back to see them next time.

The next day was Mass.  The people were wonderful, as I expected them to be, and very welcoming.  You'll never believe it, but I met a woman who comes to Reno every year for the Safari convention at the Convention Center.  When I told her I was from Reno, she said "Oh I know Reno!  I go to Little Flower on Plumb Lane each time I visit."  Now what in the hell were the chances that in Kasane, Botswana, I would meet a lady who knows Plumb Lane by name?  I was dumbfounded lol but we exchanged information, and I'm hoping we can connect when she comes up to town.  Anyhoo, after Mass, there were many young children hanging around.  Fr. Marek explained that this is their main outreach.  These children, the Children of the Elephants, are not Catholic, but spend almost all their time at the church because they have nowhere else to go.  Not because they don't have families (although a couple are orphans) but their families don't care for them.  Many of the young girls I met are regularly sexually abused by the men who hang around the mothers.  Some of the young boys were thieves and sniffing glue.  Some of the children have HIV from their parents.  But all of them have found a home at the mission.  The mission has started a program to provide them with food...for many, the only food they receive.  They take the kids to the library twice a week and they also try to do workshops to empower them for future careers.  They also just spend time with the kids and play sports with them.  It was truly one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever seen and heard. 

We took the kids to fish and play dodgeball (man did my body feel old and out of shape doing that! LOL).  Some of the kids seemed kind of sluggish.  When Fr. Marek asked them if they were ok, they said they hadn't eaten since Friday afternoon...this was now Sunday afternoon.  These kids were between 8 and 11.  I have seen hungry children before, but this seemed different.  I think it seemed different because these kids weren't hungry or in need because of a lack of resources necessarily, but because of a lack of care from their parents.  The parents simply don't care or are too interested in their own affairs (such as promiscuity, drugs, alcohol and dealing with AIDS).  The church is all these children have.  Fr. Marek even told me that some of the children were breaking into the church and sleeping on the pews because the parents were locking the kids out (God only knows what as happening inside).

When we returned to the mission, Fr. Marek gave the kids 4 loaves of bread, which they divided among themselves, and they ran off into the night...hopefully to beds.  I had to go into my room and cry.

During our time together, the children sang two songs for me...both of which I never have really liked, but now find a great beauty in:

"You Raise Me Up"

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up... To more than I can be.

"We Are the World" 

We are the world, we are the children

We are the ones who make a brighter day

So lets start giving

There's a choice we're making

We're saving our own lives

Its true we'll make a better day

Just you and me.

How many children, even in the US, need us?  How many children even in Reno would be singing these songs if someone cared enough to reach out?

Turning 26? Not terribly important.  Playing dodgeball with abused and neglected children?  Oh Happy Day!

Reflection #4 - Youth Rally

For the closing Mass at the Vicariate of Francistown Youth Rally - July 12, 2012  This Mass was accompanied by one of Francistown's seminarians receiving the Ministries of Reader and Acolyte, so the Bishop asked me to talk about vocation.

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?  A doctor?  Teacher?  Police office? President?  I never wanted to be a priest.  My dream was to be an astronaught and to go into space (which is probably why I love the night sky here in Botswana - I can see the stars).  When I got older, I wanted to work in theater and before I entered the seminary, I wanted to be a social worker.  Those were my plans, but obviously God had something else in mind. 

Today we hear about the prophet, Amos.  The priest of Bethel, Amaziah, is complaining against Amos and his prophecies, and so he is telling Amos to leave; to go somewhere else.  But Amos replies that he is there because God wants him to be.  Amos explains that he was only a herdsman, a farmer tending sheep.  But the Lord took him from the flock and said, "Go."  So Amos went.  Where is the Lord calling you to go?  What is God calling you to do?

Today we are privileged to see our brother, Gaone, installed into the Ministries of Reader and Acolyte.  This is another step on the journey to priesthood and an important reminder that the duty of the priest, and indeed all of us, is to serve.  A lot of people today think that the youth don't care.  That you are superficial.  I don't think that's true.  I think the youth care very much.  I think you are trying to find your faith in God in a culture that doesn't support you.  I think you are trying to understand the Gospel among people who refuse to hear it.  That isn't easy.  But that is why you must make the difference NOW.  TODAY.  You must pave the road for the youth who are coming after you.  That is a huge responsibility, but it isn't impossible.

The second reading from Ephesians told us this: "For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose for which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, in heaven and on earth."  Christ has already cleared the path.  Now you must help tar the road.  One of the best ways you can do that is to model right behavior and good choices.  Many of you have younger brothers and sisters or cousins.  They are watching you.  They are learning from you.  Teach them to make good choices; to do the right thing.  And that goes for you parents also.  Your children may be influenced by culture, but they learn from YOU how to deal with those influences.  Be wise and good teachers.

I also think the youth today want to make a difference.  I think you want to have a meaningful life.  Not just one where you make lots of money or become famous or have lots of things.  I think you sincerely want to help others.  And although you want to be successful, the world out there says something different about success, doesn't it?  I hope you know better.  I hope you know that you can have no clothes, no food, no home, no money, no cell phone or computer, but still have everything, for if you carry the joy of God in your heart, you will want for nothing. 

Today I challenge all of you - young and old, man and woman, girl and boy - to have the courage to ask God, "Where shall I go?  What would you have me do, Lord?"  Your Church needs priests.  Your Church needs brothers and sisters in religious life.  Your Church needs caring mothers and fathers, loving husbands and wives, and chaste single people.  Your Church needs you to be who you were born to be.

When you were little, what were your dreams?  What did you want to do?  Where are you going now? *When God decided to make a countless nation, he chose a man with a low sperm-count and a post-menopausal woman.  When God chose a leader to proclaim freedom and lead the people to the promised lnd, he chose the man with a lisp.  When God wanted to slay the giant, he chose the small boy with a sling-shot.  And when God chose to be born of a human, he chose  young, unmarried peasant girl, who was a virgin.*  And so God has chosen you.  Not because of your perfection, but because you are wonderfully imperfect.  Not because of what you may do, but because of what you can.  Not because of who you might be, but because of you who you are right now.  Amos was a herder, Peter was a fisherman, Matthew was a tax collector.  Be brave.  Dare to answer God's call.  I can't promise you it will be easy, but I think I can promise that you will know joy.

When the Lord called Jeremiah he said, "Lord, behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth."  But the Lord answered him, "Do not say 'I am only a youth' for to all whom I send you, you shall go, and whatever I command you, you shall speak.  Be not afraid, for I am with you."  AMEN.



*This portion was taken from a reflection written by Fr. Mike Miller of St. Patrick's Seminary*

"Other duties as assigned..."

I remember when I worked for the Legislature and for the Supreme Court in Carson City, and how nice it was to have a regular day...the schedule was set and VERY rarely deviated.  My duties and expectations were set and also rarely deviated.  Ministry here in Francistown is anything but.

Last Monday, was a day of remembering the dead.  We left Francistown very early in the morning and went out to a village called Matangwane (I think that's how it is spelled).  We went to celebrate Mass and then bless a new tombstone.  The graveyard was quite interesting...You could see the disparity between those who could afford tombstones and those who could not.  The tombstone we blessed was quite elaborate and I'm sure very costly.  It was marble and it was huge!  But as it as for the patriarch of the family, I am sure it was quite fitting.  The "middle-class" graves were covered by a metal cage which outlined the casket.  On the front of the cage was a plaque with the name of the deceased.  Many had hung flowers on them or pictures.  There was something actually quite nice about their simplicity.  The "lower-class" graves were simply mounds of concrete.  No information on them, no flowers, nothing.  Fr. Sylvester called them "pauper graves" because the families could not afford the funeral and burial expenses.  Even in death, no one can escape money problems.  After the blessing, we went back to the house for a huge feast.  I have not seen that much food in a while.  One of the Batswana delicacies is a type of smashed meat called seswa (not sure if that's the spelling).  It's made either with beef or goat.  I really enjoy the goat!  I tried a little of everything, and one of the older ladies sitting behind me marvelled at my eating their traditional food.  Everything was delicious.  Afterwards, I was invited to sit with the Uncles (the elder men) and drink Chibuku, which is the Batswana beer.  It is made from fermented sorghum.  As I sat down and they passed me the carton, I could feel every eye on me.  I told myself that no matter what I thought, I would have to say I liked it....but I actually did like it!  It wasn't very strong or bitter.  I wound up taking 3 or 4 sips, which brought a round of cheering and laughing.  They gave me thumbs up and patted me on the back...I had become a Batswana man LOL.

After we returned to Francistown, Father informed me that we were going to another memorial Mass that evening for a young man who had died, for which he asked me to prepare a reflection.  This one made me nervous...with emotions raw, I worried I would not say the "right thing."  I prepared a very short reflection, which I shared from memory, rather than wrote.  When I saw the mother's face, she was shaking her head...I thought I had upset or offended her.  After the Mass, she approached me, and I thought I was in trouble.  She hugged me and told me that she had needed the words I said - they consoled her. 

Then came Thursday, a day to celebrate new life.  That morning, Fr. Sylvester and I drove to another village to celebrate a baptism.  Again, Fr. Sylvester asked me to prepare the reflection, another first for me (the other being the first time I preached at a memorial).  The baby was so beautiful.  Her name is Landra.  The mother let me hold her and she immediately fell asleep in my arms, holding the cross around my neck in her hand (I told her mom that it was a sign Landra was destined for religious life - to which she promptly replied "AMEN!").  We set up the altar right on the porch of the house and celebrated the Mass and Baptism right there.  It reminded me of why the Church is the people and not the building - a church building is certainly sacred and an important part of our worship, but it is in the community that gathers that Christ is found...not confined to 4 walls.  It was a truly beautiful moment, and I thanked God for the opportunity to be there that wonderful day.

Both of these experiences, new life and death, made me reflect on what ministry is.  It is about journeying with God's people in whatever way I can.  We are all called to this ministry - to be present to those around us, to walk with them, to love them.  St. Francis of Assisi always prayed that God make him a channel of peace...what more could you want to be?

       

Two weeks to go...

In 2 weeks from today, I'll be on my way home...I can hardly believe it.  When I stepped off the plane in Francistown on June 12, I thought 2 months would never go by.  It's a bitter-sweet thought, really.  I can't wait to be home with my family and friends and see the mountains...but I will VERY much miss Francistown.  The people here have literally welcomed me with open arms.  In today's Gospel reading, Jesus talked about who his family is...the people here have made me part of their family.  They've not only welcomed me into their church, but into their homes and hearts as well.  I will miss them terribly, but I also know I will come back one day.

I hope anyone reading this will seriously consider coming here to Botswana...not just to visit, but to have their own missionary experience.  The harvest is ripe here, and the people waiting for someone to reach out to them.  I hope I have opened a door for others...I promise that if you come with an open heart and an open mind, you will have an experience you will not soon forget.  Think about it...pray about it.  As Sr. Maria in Reno told me, Botswana called my heart...is it calling yours?

A Re Rapeleng...Let Us Pray

A few weeks ago, my aunt sent me this poem by Ellen Seusy:

THIS CHURCH, WING OF LIGHT OUTSTRETCHED OVER STREETS AND TOWNS,

THIS CHURCH EXTENDS BEYOND ITS WALLS, ITS ROLL OF MEMBERS, MEETING TIMES, TO SHELTER AND GUIDE ALL WHO'VE EVER ENTERED,

ALL WHO MIGHT DRIVE BY,

ANYONE WHOSE THOUGHT IS TOUCHED, UPLIFTED

WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING WHY.

One of the things I have loved doing here in Francistown is visiting the sick and homebound every week.  Some are deaf or blind or both.  Some are elderly and afflicted with pain.  Some are young.  But all can no longer bring themselves to the church, so the Church must come to them.  A couple of weeks ago, Fr. Sylvester knocked on my door very early in the morning.  He told me that Sister Wivine (who I accompany to visit the sick) was feeling ill herself and that I would need to visit the sick alone.  He told me that he had asked one of the parishioners to lend me her car (since it is an automatic) and that one of the older ladies who also goes with Sister Wivine to visit the sick would go with me to give me directions.  Of course I felt a little anxious.  Not only would I be driving in a city I don't know (and on the opposite side of the road sitting on the opposite side of the car), but I would be taking communion to people whose language I can't speak.  But ministry beckoned, and of course, I said it would be no problem.

Driving was a hoot.  I was a little nervous at first because I had to keep remembering to turn onto the left side of the street, and I kept hitting the windshield wipers instead of the blinkers.  Once I got a hang of the turns and the roundabouts, it actually was a pretty fun experience.

I expressed to the lady who was with me that I felt bad that I couldn't speak seTswana.  She told me not to worry and to just do the services in English; the people would follow along as best as they could.  That didn't sit right with me.  For most of them, this is their only opportunity each week to pray in community and receive the sacraments.  I couldn't help but feel I was robbing them of the experience by praying in English.  As we pulled up to the first house, I made my decision: I would read the prayers in seTswana and do my best.  My insecure self expected laughs or at least giggles at my attempt to pray in seTswana.  There was nothing of the sort.  Where I stumbled, the people helped me, and in the end, they smiled and thanked me.  "Ke a leboga, rara.  Thank you."  The lady who went with me was so encouraging: "You are really trying. You are becoming a seTswana!  That is wonderful!" she kept saying.  Of course it would have been the same Jesus, the same sacrament, regardless of whether it was in English or seTswana.  But somehow, it feels like it wouldn't have been prayer.  It would have just been me speaking the words and them listening.  Instead, we prayed together.  

This experience made me think of the great debate of language in the US and how impatient we get with people who can't speak English.  I thought of all the times I got annoyed because I couldn't understand someone or because I thought they were being inconsiderate and disrespectful by wanting to speak their native language.  God hears all of our languages.  God speaks to us in all of our languages.  Whether we say God, or Modimo, or Dios, or Diyos, or Deus, we are all children calling to our one Father.  How beautiful is that?!  I am proud of my culture and my language, but I hope this experience has taught me to be patient and understanding.  To be encouraging to those who are trying, just as they were patient and encouraging to me here.  I'll be starting Spanish in the fall...with a renewed sense of why.

The Lord's Prayer in seTswana:

Rara wa rona yo o kwa legodimong

leina la gago a le itshepisiwe;

puso ya gago a e tle;

thato ya gago a e dirwe mo lefatsheng

jaaka kwa legodimong.

O re fe gompieno bogobe jwa rona jwa malatsi;

o re itshwarele dibe tsa rona

jaaka le rona re itshwarela ba ba re leofetsheng;

o se ka wa re isa mo thaelong

mme o re golole mo bosuleng.  Amen!    

Reflection #3 - Sunday, July 1, 2012

Taken from Mark 5:21-43 for the 10:00 AM seTswana Mass at Our Lady of the Desert

The line that struck me as I was reflecting on this Gospel was the line, “she had spent all she had, yet she was not helped but only grew worse.”  There is another Gospel that uses almost the same line, but in a very different way.  It is Matthew 13:44 which says “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy, goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.”  In this parable, we see the man giving up all he has to gain heaven; whereas in today’s Gospel, we see this woman giving up all she has in order to save her earthly life, and only getting worse.

We humans don’t like death, do we?  We never have.  Nearly every culture on earth finds death an uncomfortable subject.  Even those who can admit that will die can’t really imagine our own death.  It’s something far away, isn’t it?  I mean, I stand before you 25 years old, and although I know I will die, I hope it is in 60 to 70 years.  But for all I know, it could be in 60 to 70 minutes!  In the US, we despise aging and death.  The average American woman spends $13,000 on make up in her lifetime.  That’s about 91,000 Pula.  On make up!  Over $10 billion is spent each year on plastic surgery in the US.  $10 billion!  That’s almost 70 billion Pula each year on surgery to make us look younger or feel younger.  But does it stop us from aging?  Does it stop us from dying?

As technology has advanced, so has our feeling of invincibility.  We feel powerful.  And why shouldn’t we?  We can save babies from previously deadly diseases.  We can have a computer in the palm of our hand.  We can send people into space.  We can clone living beings.  We can destroy entire cities with the push of a button.  We are powerful.  But we can’t stop this body from dying.  Maybe that’s why we hate death so much; because it reminds us that we really aren’t all powerful.  Even we humans have a limitation: death.

Both Jairus and the woman with the hemorrhage knew there was nothing they could do.  They knew they were powerless to stop the sickness and death that was threatening them.  They had to set aside all of their fear, all of their pain, all of their anxiety, and even all of their anger, and trust Jesus.  They had to trust that this man had the power to do what no one else, even today in 2012, could do.  And both were healed and made whole for their faith in God.  The woman’s hemorrhage stopped at once, and Jairus’ daughter was brought back to life.

Does our dying mean that we don’t have faith in God?  When bad things happen to us, when we are injured or afraid or when our lives are shaken, does it mean that it wasn’t because we didn’t have faith?  I don’t think so.  The woman with the hemorrhage died.  Jairus died.  The little girl died again.  Jesus, the Son of God, died.  Having faith doesn’t mean that somehow we won’t die or not have pain in our lives.  What faith means is that we believe death is not the end.  The first reading reminds us that God made all things to exist and says that since we are made in the image and likeness of God, we are to share in God’s eternal life.  Our unloving and sinful choices are what brought death into this world, but God is still stronger, and even though one day we will take our last breath and depart this world, it will not be the end.  It will be the beginning of something greater.

So don’t let the things of this world disturb you.  By all means we must take care of ourselves and do what is necessary, and we certainly cannot neglect our responsibilities, but let us pray that we never exchange our trust in God for worry about the things of this world.  For it is in letting go of these things that we can hold onto God.  It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.  AMEN.  

Reflection #2 12th Saturday in Ordinary Time

(This was a short reflection for a communion service I presided over)

Taken from Matthew 8:5-17.  For the 5:30 PM Communion Service at Our Lady of the Desert


There was once a group of people giving out soup and sandwiches to the poor outside of a Catholic center.  Many people came forward to be fed, for they were very hungry.  There was a woman standing on the side, watching the crowd of people, but she was afraid to approach and ask for food.  One of the people serving noticed her and went over to offer he something to eat.  The woman was very hungry, but she declined saying, "Thank you, but I'm not Catholic."  The man smiled and answered her, "We won't refuse to feed you because you're not Catholic.  We will feed you because we are Catholic."

I sometimes think, as Catholics and Christians, that we believe we have a monopoly on faith and maybe even goodness.  If someone is not Catholic or Christian, we might be tempted to think they are less than us.  After all, if they don't believe in Jesus, how can they be good people?  It is an attitude I have seen too much.

Today, we see Jesus proclaim that this centurion has more faith than anyone in all of Israel.  Jesus believed in the covenant.  He believed that the Jewish people were special and that they were the chosen.  And yet, it is a Roman, not only a foreigner, but a heathen, whom he declared has the greatest faith he has ever seen.

The centurion had authority.  When he gave orders to other men, they obeyed without question.  Jesus commands us to love each other.  Are we following his order?  We gossip about each other, we let pride get in our way, or selfishness, or greed.  We judge others or we refuse to help someone because they've upset us.  But we don't let that stop us from calling ourselves Christians, do we?  Jesus says in today's Gospel what happens to those who say they have faith in God but do not live it: "They will be driven out into the outer darkness."  Let that be none of us here.  Let God say to us, "Well done my good and faithful servant.  Enter now into your reward."  AMEN.

Who said I'll never have any children?

One of the things that has often been difficult for me as I've discerned priesthood is the thought that I would never be a parent.  I love children, and I think I would make a good dad.  I've made peace with that, but an experience I had a couple of weeks ago made me ask myself, "Who said I'll never have any children?"

I visited Our Lady of the Desert Primary School on their last day before winter vacation.  Fr. Sylvester had an appointment, so he said that he would leave me to talk to the assembly myself.  I was a bit nervous, but of course, I got up there and did some sharing.  I talked about things I've already shared here on the blog: faith, family, priorities, etc., and I saw some of their heads nodding...that was a good sign.  After the assembly was finished, the Headmistress asked me to dismiss the kids, so I did.  Well, they came running up to me to shake my hand.  One student gave me a hug...and before I knew it, they were ALL hugging me.  I literally think I hugged about 80 students before the Headmistress pulled me out of the throng.  After the assembly, I met with the faculty and they asked me to give them a blessing.  It was a nice experience.  Even the non-Catholic teachers seemed to appreciate it.  One of the teachers asked me if I had a single brother she could marry...oy lol.  The Headmistress then told me she had a meeting to attend and invited me to walk around the school and greet the kids. 

As it was the last day of school, all the kids were busy helping to clean the grounds, mostly sweeping and picking up trash.  As I approached the younger grades, they all dropped their brooms and brushes and dustpans and ran to me.  They all wanted to take turn to hold my hand as I walked around the campus.  It was like trying to walk with 100 sheep tied to your hands.  They were pulling and laughing and screaming...it was overwhelming, but really fun :-) Eventually, one of the teachers told them to get back to their work, and I was left to run away while I still could lol.

I made my way over to the older student field and found them jumproping and playing soccer.  They also congregated around me, and started asking me a lot of questions about the US.  They also asked if they could touch my hair...they said it was so strange to them. It reminded me of that scene from Hook when the lost boys are touching the grown up Peter Pan's face, trying to recognize him.  I asked (jokingly of course) if they would like to take some of my hair home, and they all started putting their hands out LOL.  When Fr. Sylvester arrived to pick me up, he found half the school escorting me to the gate to meet him.  My hair was a complete mess and my alb was covered in so many dusty handprints that it wasn't white anymore.  He took one look at me, and with a smile asked, "So, how did it go?"  Of course you know what I said..."Absolutely wonderful."

I am very lucky and blessed to have two such wonderful parents.  I know many out there aren't as lucky.  That day confirmed for me that there is a reason we call our priests "Father."  I hope I can live up to that name, and more importantly, that if anyone is in need of love, they can find it in me.  Just as I have.

Peace.   

M.I.A.

Hello everyone!  Yes, I'm still alive.  About an hour after I posted the last blog about the fourth of July, the computer went down...and has been for the last two weeks.  It was just fixed about 2 hours ago, so I thought I should let you all know I'm doing ok :-)

It's been a busy couple of weeks, and some really nice things have happened, which I'm going to try and write about.  I've also preached a few more times, so I'll post those homilies.  I also lost all the pictures on my camera from the first month of my time here. I was really sad about that!  The Bishop said he knows someone who can recover them, so I'm hoping that can happen.  I also finally got to see some wildlife!  I saw a herd of zebra and some giraffes grazing on the side of the highway and got some nice pictures of them (this was after I lost the pictures on my camera).  I'm still waiting to see if I'll get to go on safari, but time is quickly getting away from me lol.

Anyhoo, I just wanted to let you all know why I've been missing for the last two weeks.  I'll start posting now :-)

Happy 4th of July

(I meant to write this sooner, but the computer has been down :-)

Except for the two 4th of Julys when I had to work, I've never not be home for the 4th.  It's always been a day spent with my family, and always at home in Victorian Square.  It was strange for me to think that not only would I not be with my family for the 4th, but I wouldn't even be in the country.

I decided to share 4th of July with some of the people here.  So I cooked hamburgers, potato salad, and we made root beer (which they call iron brew) floats.  It was great fun!  They kept saying "Wow, we are eating like Americans now!" (A couple also commented that they understand why Americans struggle with obesity lol.)  None of them had heard the Star Spangled-Banner, and after attempting to sing it for them, I played Whitney Huston's version from the Super Bowl.  It was beautiful.  I'll admit I got a little emotional.

I've never been out of the US for this long, and this experience has taught me to appreciate being an American in a new way.  I love the life here in Botswana: there is a great simplicity.  Not because of poverty, but because of appreciation.  The people here appreciate what they have, whether it is a lot or a little.  They aren't always clamoring for the next and best.  Just last night, a young man asked me about Thanksgiving and what the holiday is for.  I explained it and he thought it was beautiful.  He asked me if it has been commercialized, and unfortunately I had to say yes.  We follow our day of giving thanks for what we have by spending all night in line at the store (and even trampling people) to buy electronics and clothes and God knows what else on Black Friday.  I felt a little saddened.  Don't misunderstand; people certainly want possessions. But they are detached from them. 

More than appreciating what they have, I've noticed that the Batswana also have different priorities than many do in the US.  Family is their most important commodity.  I think many of us in the US (myself included) judge our lives by what we have.  We always have to have just a little more, and then we'll be happy.  But we aren't, are we?  We buy one more thing, and then three more things, and then ten more things, and yet we're still just one more thing away from achieving that happiness we want so much.  The Batswana find their happiness in their loved ones.  When the people speak of their blessings, it is always their families and friends...not their things. 

This experience of getting to come to Botswana has taught me to appreciate the blessing of my family.  I know I can be a pain and that they can drive me crazy, but I have realized what a blessing each one of them is and how much I love them.  Thank you Mom, Dad, Leslie, Auntie Linda and all my family.  I've taken you for granted, and Botswana has helped me see that.  I hope that isn't the case when I return.

The reading for Morning Prayer on the 4th came from the book of Tobit.  It said this:

Do to no one what you yourself dislike.  Give to the hungry some of your bread, and to the naked some of your clothing.  Seek counsel from every wise man.  At all times bless the Lord God, and ask him to make all your paths straight and to grant success to all your endeavors and plans.

Somehow, I thought this was apt for the 4th of July.  A lot of people here pay attention to what is happening in the US.  They ask me about the healthcare bill.  They ask me about entertainers.  They ask me about the Church.  They know what is happening in the US.  Let us pray that the US be an example and instrument of goodness in the world.  Let us also pray that we have the wisdom as Americans to not believe we are perfect.  There is a great deal for us to do in our great country.  I long for the day that I see the same expression of bewilderment on American children's faces when they hear about homelessness as I saw here in Botswana two days ago (because like Fr. Sylvester, the Batswana youth didn't know what homelessness was). 

We're always asking God to bless America.  Today, I also ask God to bless all nations.  Today I offer this song as my prayer:

This is My Song by Lloyd Stone

This is my song, Oh God of all the nations,

A song of peace for lands afar and mine.

This is my home, the country where my heart is;

Here are my hopes, my dreams, my sacred shrine.

But other hearts in other lands are beating,

With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,

And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine.

But other lands have sunlight too and clover,

And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.

Oh hear my song, oh God of all the nations,

A song of peace for their land and for mine.



  So May It Be.

Rejoice always...

There's an old saying: "Joy is an ineffable sign of God's presence."  I shared in one of the previous blogs that I had attended a going away party.  It's for a sister who is leaving Botswana to return home to Lesotho.  Her name is Sister Mahali (pronounced Muh-ha-dee).  We always wound up sitting together at Mass and chatting, and I always thought she was a woman of great faith.  But for the first 2 weeks I was here, I never knew she was a sister...imagine my embarrassment when I arrived at the going away party to find out it was for her...and that she was a sister! When I told her, she laughed and laughed and said, "I knew you didn't know I was a sister!  I knew it."

I thought of that quote about joy because she is one of the most joyful people I have ever met.  If the Batswana are always laughing, she laughs more...and louder!  But more than being a joyful person, she brings that joy to others.  She is truly a Christian woman.  I've talked a lot about how much joy the people here exude.  Joy and laughter seem to be part of their being.  But more than having joy is the fact that they (and Sr. Mahali) spread it.  Their joy is not in being joyful, but in making others joyful.  Isn't that the sign of a Christian?  Not only in lifting up others, but in being joyful ourselves.  She reminded me that if we believe that Christ is present in our lives and that we we experience him day after day, then why are we so dour or filled with worry about things that, in the end, are not really important? Something for all of us to think about...

Thank you, Sr. Mahali, for showing me what it means to be a truly joyful servant of God.  You've reminded me that our vocation is to share joy with others...and in sharing that joy, to help them find the God present in their lives who rejoices in having made them the beautiful people they are.

Peace.

Reflection #1: The Solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

Taken from Luke 1:57-66, 80.  For the 8:00 AM English Mass at Our Lady of the Desert


There are many things that happen in our lives that test our faith.  It can be the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a failed class or bad grade, financial problems, and so on.  We can come here everyday, receive Jesus in the Word and in the Eucharist, feel his very presence in our lives, and then one day something bad happens to us, and it's as if we never had any faith at all.

Today we heard about poor old Zechariah.  A priest in the temple, he questioned the words of the angel Gabriel, who had foretold the miraculous birth of his son, who then punished Zechariah by making him mute. But even though he doubted, he did not lose faith, and in the end his speech was restored and he proclaimed, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful prayers of praise in Scripture: the Canticle of Zechariah.

It is too easy for us to forget God's promises.  The Old Testament is filled with the stories of the people of Israel time after time forgetting what the Lord had done for them.  The Gospels show us that the very closest of those among Jesus who lived in his presence, who saw him, touched him, smelled him, still questioned and doubted, and at his death, abandoned him.  St. Augustine said that our hearts "yearn to rest in you, Lord" and I believe that is true.  I believe we all seek relationship with the divine and that we all yearn to be in God's presence.  But there is distance, there are questions.  We forget, we question, we doubt, but I think that's ok. We're human; we're not perfect.  Our hearts are tempted and swayed by many things.  But no matter what comes our way, no matter what happens to us, there is nothing greater or more powerful than God's love.  And no matter how many times we question or doubt or sin, God will never abandon us to the power of death.

When Zechariah's speech was restored, he praised God for he understood that God's promise of salvation had come.  For so long, the people had waited for salvation, and at long last it had arrived.  We live every single day with God's promise, and so Zechariah's song is our prayer too:

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel.  He has come to his people and set them free.

He has raised up for us a mighty savior.  Born of the house of his servant David.

Through his holy prophets he promised of old.

That he would save us from our enemies, from the hands of all who hate us.

He promised to show mercy to our fathers

and to remember his holy covenant.

This was the oath he swore to our father, Abraham, to set us free from the hands of our enemies

free to worship him without fear, holy and righteous in his sight, all the days of our life.

You my child shall be called the prophet of the most high, 

for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way.

To give his people knowledge of salvation, by the forgiveness of their sins.

In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us

to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death

and to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Just as John was born to prepare the way of the Lord, we are born to prepare his way and we too must preach to the whole world, and ourselves, that God has saved us.  God will always save us.  AMEN.

Isn't being a missionary fun?!

That is the question I asked myself quietly as I was sitting in the bed of a truck, in my alb, driving down a dirt road to celebrate Mass.

Saturday and Sunday were long and somewhat difficult days.  I shared my visit to the hospital on Thursday...one of the patients we visited passed away.  I was really shocked.  He looked so well when we visited him, and a only a little over a day later, he was gone.  Of course, I've experienced death, but not in quite that way.  When Father told me he had died, all I could think that was just 36 hours before, I had shaken his hand and had a conversation with him.  So we visited the family (the majority of whom are Baptist...oh and they are from India originally), and offered our consolations.  That evening, we visited the home of another family who had lost a loved one.  It just happened to be the former President and First Lady of Botswana.  I would've found the experience of meeting the President thrilling if it were not for his mother's wake.  We kept vigil with the family and Father asked me to lead the group in some prayers.  I have found that death is when God seems the most present.  Perhaps because death reminds us that much as we may think so, we are not all powerful and it makes us reach out in ways we don't usually.  There is something about the prayers of the people who are grieving that expresses true faith...I don't know if that makes sense or if I can adequately describe what I mean, but it is why I always find funerals to be so beautiful.  After we got home from that, Father asked me to preach at the 8 AM Mass on Sunday (this was Saturday night).  He said I didn't have to if I felt it was too short notice, but I decided to give it a go...after all, priests need to think on their feet sometimes, right?  I did some Lectio Divina on the Gospel and wrote out my homily (which I'll post later).  All things considered, I think it turned out well, and the people's response was positive.  I even did some singing, so the Spirit surely was with me lol.

The Youth Group meeting on Saturday went pretty well.  Only 5 came, but as I always say, that's more than Zero.  We talked about the Trinity and it's significance for our faith and then did scripture reflection and faith sharing.  They were all very responsive and participated.  I also had them write their names on a piece of paper and exchange with someone else.  That person then agrees to pray for the other each day during the week.  Next week they'll exchange with someone else.  Hopefully praying for each other gets them bonding and growing as a community.  Many youth said to me after Mass yesterday that they were sorry for missing and that they would be there next week.  We'll see what happens :-)


Yesterday was the longest day I've had yet.  I overslept, and woke up at 7:15 with just enough time to shower and get a piece of toast in me before I ran to the 8 AM English Mass.  Mass ended at 9:30, which gave me 30 minutes to meet and greet before the 10 AM seTswana Mass.  I decided to give in and just let my spirit go.  I danced and clapped and let myself pray.  It was wonderful!  The altar servers were all giggling at me lol.  They later said to one of adults, "The legkowa was dancing!"  So after 2 Masses (equaling 4 hours), a group of us literally jumped into the bed of the truck and took off for one of the outstations, what we would call a mission.  There were 6 or 7 of us crammed in the back going down the highway at 110 kilometers/hr (which is about 68 mph).  That's when I thought to myself "Isn't it fun to be a missionary?"  Just flying down the highway, in my alb, in the bed of a truck, to celebrate the Mass.  This experience reminded me of what matters.  My hair was a mess, I could feel the layer of car exhaust and dirt on my skin, I was a little sweaty and probably musky, and I didn't care.  What mattered was to be there to pray with the people.  To celebrate with them the joy of God's presence.

We got home around 9:30 PM (after also attending a going away party, which I want to talk about later) and I went to bed last night sore and exhausted, but smiling to myself.  This is my life...and I love it.

"Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News to all Creation." Mark 16:15

Peace.      

  

Church and State

As an American, I am not used to religion having as public face as it does here in Botswana.  Religion is a private affair.  Imagine my surprise Friday morning when Fr. Sylvester and I visited a government school (what we would call a public school).  Father asked me to wear my alb (actually, he asked me to wear a cassock...but I don't own one lol).  There was no missing me as I walked around in my white robe, and of course I'm probably one of the first Americans they've ever seen in person.  I could hear them all whispering "lekgowa" as I walked by (which means white man haha...and is pronounced lay-koa).  They assembled outside and after singing a song, Father introduced me.  He asked me to present to them on the 8th Commandment, "You Shall Not Bear False Witness Against Your Neighbor."  So I talked to them about lying and gossiping and making fun of people and how hurtful it can be.  I decided to throw in some incluturation and tell them the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf.  I only talked for about 10 minutes, then Father closed with the Lord's Prayer and blessed them all.  This was all in a public school.  Can you imagine what would happen if a priest went into a public school assembly and even just said "May Almighty God Bless all of you"??  There would be lawsuits galore!  I couldn't believe when Father told me that it wasn't a Catholic school, and more, that he had been invited by the principal to do this.  It gave me pause for thought.

That night, we visited the local hospital to take communion to some parishioners.  You only have 30 minutes to visit, so we had to move fast.  The rooms have up to 6 beds...I'm fairly certain I would be miserable.  After giving communion to the patient, Father then said aloud "Let Us Pray."  All of the patients and visitors stopped talking and bowed their heads as Father said a prayer and blessed them all.  When he made the sign of the cross, some crossed themselves and many others didn't.  I was astonished.  This is a government hospital after all.  Even the non-Catholics were respectful of the prayer and thanked us for taking the time to bless them.  Father told me he needed to go to another ward, and asked me to do as he had in the other rooms that he was not able to pray in.  Needless to say, I felt SO self-conscious.  Imagine you were asked to walk into a stranger's hospital room, without invitation, and just announce, "Let us pray" and then lead everyone there in prayer.  Lol, yeah, that pang of discomfort you just felt? That's how I felt hahaha.  I wasn't very courageous, so I didn't pray quite as loudly as Father did, nor did I try to stop the conversations.  I stood in the middle of the room and prayed quietly.  Those who heard me acknowledged the prayer, and others didn't.  Maybe next time I'll feel more brave and I'll try to do it the way Father did.  Maybe lol.

In addition to all of this, EVERYONE here calls me "Father" or "rara."  They bow when they meet me or when I walk by.  One elderly woman I visited even called me "My Worship."  (How do you respond to THAT?! Lol.)  The first week here, I tried correcting the people and told them I'm a seminarian, not a priest, so they don't have to call me Father.  But to no avail. I've given up now; if they call me Father, they call me Father lol.  The Sister told me it's simply a reminder of how I'm seen.  The people trust me enough to call me their Father and want to honor me.  Yikes.

All of this has just given me pause about the public role of priesthood.  People pay attention to us.  They care about what we say and how we act toward them.  There's no 9-5, and then I'm not a seminarian or priest anymore.  I walked down to the store the other day, and people recognized me.  I heard, "Hello, Father!  Hello, Father!" and it took me a minute to realize they were talking to me.  This is a precious gift, not something to be abused.  People take great comfort in us and have placed great trust in us.  Let us pray that our clerics, whatever religion they may be, may be worthy of that trust and may not abuse and mislead the people who are given into our care; who we are called to serve.

Peace.      

FOOD! Glorious food...

So a few people have asked me what the food is like...it isn't what I expected.  One of my favorite places to eat in Reno (although I haven't been there in a while) is Zagol's.  It's an Ethiopian restaurant on 4th street.  The food is very exotic (for the American palette) and has a lot of spices and flavor.  I guess I was expecting something similar.  Most of us, I think, tend to view Africa as just one huge country (and yes I know it's a continent haha), where everyone is divided into different states, but everyone is essentially the same.  Everyone here is very conscious of the different African cultures.  I was talking to the chairman of the parish council and he mentioned that there are a lot of foreigners in the parish.  When I asked him where they were from, I was expecting him to say Germany or India or Costa Rica...you know, other places far away.  Instead he said, "We have them from all over!  Zimbabwe, Zambia, Tanzania, Ghana, South Africa" and so on. I laughed at myself...another stereotype I had fallen into.  Anyhoo, back to the food.   The food here is very, VERY simple.  Nothing too spicy or exotic.  The two staples of every meal are sorghum and corn meal.  They are usually prepared as a kind of porridge.  If either are taken at breakfast, you can add sugar or honey and milk to it.  If taken at lunch time, they are eaten plain or topped with a salty gravy.  Meat is also very much a part of the diet here (while in other African countries, meat is a luxury...and so fish is more common).  Beef is a big export, so we've had quite a bit of beef.  We also have a lot of chicken.  Usually these are served with some kind of vegetable, which is usually pretty simple also: just boiled greens or carrots or potatoes.  Nothing too fancy.  The other day, the cook made mashed sweet potatoes.  Oh man, they were DELICIOUS!  I've enjoyed the food here and it hasn't caused me any problems, thank God.

As most of you probably know, I am a tea fanatic.  I have several cups of tea every day.  Here I have discovered a new tea, which is native to South Africa.  I've seen the name in the US, but I had never had it until I got here.  It's called Rooibos tea (which they call Bush Tea).  It's very different from what I'm used to.  I can't really describe the flavor, but the color is beautiful.  It is deep, dark red.  The Batswana usually add milk and sugar, but I've been drinking it plain (which they find weird lol).  I've also been drinking something called Ricoffy.  It's a blend of chicory and coffee beans.  It's really good!  I drink it black with a bit of honey to take off the bitter edge.  Maybe I'll bring some of both back with me to the States.  :-)  I did manage to find a box of English Black Tea in the pantry, so I'm still getting my fix, but it's also fun tasting new things.  I'll post some pictures of the food when I'm able.

Peace.   

7 days...

Well beautiful people, I've been in Botswana now for almost 7 days (it'll be 7 days in...about 4 hours).  I officially received my assignment over the weekend and began almost immediately.  The main thing they would like me to focus on is getting the youth group going again.  Oy.  I've never been that great at youth ministry.  The priest asked me to meet with the youth after Mass to ask them what they would like in terms of ministry.  So...I asked them.  Dead silence.  Then I threw out some ideas...would they like scripture, prayer, church teaching?  One girl finally raised her hand, and said "All!"  Lol!  So, I'm trying to decide what I should do.  I have a few ideas swirling in my head, but it is for sure that these young people are very much hungry to learn about their faith, so I'll do my best :-)

Sunday night, I went with Fr. Sylvester to a town about 2 hours away called Phikwe (I think that's how it's spelled).  It was an interesting drive.  Let's just say that Fr. Sylvester puts the jet in Jetta if you get my drift.  It is a nice little village that is built around a copper mine.  The billowing smoke (which I'm sure is not healthy) from the smelters filled the entire sky.  We went for what is called a Deliverance (which I'll talk about later) and on Monday, I made some home visits (Fr. Sylvester was once assigned here, and so knows EVERYONE).  We returned to Francistown, and I was exhausted.  After all, we had been going non-stop for almost 12 hours.  Just when I was walking up the stairs, thinking of a cup of tea and watching Downton Abbey (yes - my addiction came with me to Botswana) I heard Father call me back down.  He had his vestments in one arm and the Mass kit in another and told me that we were visiting one of the small Christian communities (which I'll talk about later also).  When we finally got home, I was ready for bed.  I honestly don't know how this man does it...he runs from place to place, and even literally town to town, and doesn't seem to get tired.  He's almost twice my age, but has twice my energy.  Lol.

Today was the best day so far.  First of all, I LOVE showers.  It is not unusual for me to take up to 30 minutes.  Since arriving here, I've only been able to take 5 minute showers.  The water pressure is so low, that the water comes out as a kind of mist, and I resorted to filling a cup from the shower head and kind of bathing myself.  Two months of this shower was going to be my penance...or so I thought.  It turns out the shower head was rusted, and so some of the holes were blocked.  I changed it and OMG, I nearly cried when a full stream of water came out.  I only showered for about 10 minutes, but it was a glorious 10 minutes hahaha.  However, more important than that,  I visited the sick and home bound with the Sister and brought them communion.  It was so wonderful!  Fr. Frank Hoffmann in Reno once gave me a piece of advice that I've never forgotten: care for the sick.  There is something truly holy and sacred in helping people who feel at their worst and are so vulnerable.  Every single person that I visited for those 3.5 hours smiled wide when we entered the house.  Some were embarrassed that they couldn't properly greet "the white man" (that's what they call me lol) or that there wasn't a nice chair for me to sit on, but all of them, no matter how they felt, could not stop thanking us for coming. One elderly lady clutched my hand and wouldn't let me go...I almost had to pry her fingers off lol.  Being there to pray with them and for them, to cheer them up, and maybe even give them some hope lifted my heart in ways I can't truly express.  I understand better what St. Teresa meant when she said that Christ has no body, hands, or feet now but ours.  It wasn't about praying that Christ comes to them...it was about bringing Christ to them ourselves, through our hugs and kisses and prayers and well wishes.  It was truly an extraordinary experience for me today and I can't wait to visit these people again next Tuesday.  

Now that I've rambled on, I want to share two experiences that happened yesterday.  Every night, before I go to bed, I do a simple Examen.  I decide what is one thing that happened that day for which I am thankful and what is one thing that happened that day for which I am not.  Last night, I was thankful for my experience with the Small Christian Community.  The Cathedral parish has divided its members into these small communities, who gather to pray, celebrate Mass, reflect on Scripture, and share food and fellowship.  Last night we visited the St. Monica Community (this was after returning from Phikwe).  We arrived at this  found over 20 people crammed into this small apartment.  I was surprised.  We celebrated Mass, and the people shared their reflections on the Gospel.  These people are truly devout.  They weren't shy or hesitant and no one was judged for what they said (which I have found to be a common trait among the people - they are astoundingly accepting), and as always, the celebration in this lady's living room was filled with song and joy.  After the Mass, food and drink was shared with everyone, and the people laughed and laughed and laughed.  It was so marvellous to see.  I've always felt that there is a disconnect in the Church in the US between the church building and the home.  Too many people seem to live their faith only for about an hour on Sunday and never take it anywhere else.  For the people here, the domestic church is just as important as the church building.  It was truly inspiring to see :-)

That for which I was not so thankful was my experience of the Deliverance.  I can't find any other way to describe it than to say it was just short of being an exorcism.  I don't want to break the confidence of the people involved or judge the African culture, but it was disturbing to me.  A young person felt that they were under attack from ancestral spirits.  This person described many things to the priest, who concluded that this person was indeed being attacked and possessed by spirits.  The priest performed the Deliverance, and it was really unsettling.  The person being delivered expressed pain and discomfort, but the priest said it was the spirits saying that, not the person, and so he wouldn't stop.  In the end, the person was confused, physically hurt, and disturbed by the experience (as was I).  The priest assured this person that there would be no more trouble from these spirits.  I really don't know what to think of this experience.

I've always been really dubious when it comes to the idea of demonic possession and exorcism.  After all, I've always thought that if we are made in the image and likeness of God and if the Spirit of God dwells within us, how can a demon overcome that?  I once went to a talk from an exorcist and he explained that most people who think they are possessed are not.  They are experiencing sicknesses and other issues.  Possession doesn't just happen (he said) it comes as a result of something destructive in that person's life that opens them up to allow evil in.  That made me feel a little better, but I still don't know how to feel about things like this...Any thoughts?  I'd love to hear what you have to say on this matter....

Well, I think that's enough for now...sorry it was so long.  As you can see, a lot is happening in a small amount of time.  Peace.

PS - I should say that I definitely believe in the existence of spirits, both malicious and benign, and I have a deep appreciation for the African culture's belief in their ancestral spirits and I respect them for it...just wanted to throw that out there :-)

LAUGHTER

If I had to pick one word to describe the people of Botswana, it would be laughter.  From the moment I stepped off the plane (which I can't wait to post a picture of...it was a prop plane LOL) all I have heard is laughter.  Everyone is always laughing and smiling.  It is really quite amazing to me.  I was talking to a young Batswana (that is how you call the people of Botswana in plural) named Chris, hehe, and he asked me what my impression of Botswana was so far.  I told him that I think Americans tend to have this perception that everyone else in the world is miserable because they are not us.  They don't have our freedoms or our comforts, and so how could they be happy?  I have been to a few poorer places now.  From the Philippines to Chiapas in Mexico, and now here in Francistown, I have seen nothing but genuine love and caring and hospitality and most of all...happiness.

I noticed over the last 3 days that I have seen no people on the streets begging for money or for food, nor have I seen anyone sleeping on the street.  Today, I asked Fr. Sylvester (the priest I am staying with) what Francistown's homeless population was like.  He looked at me and said, "What's that?"  He didn't know what a homeless person was.  I honestly didn't know how to respond.  When I explained that a homeless person was someone who didn't have a home and so had to live on the street, he asked me why they wouldn't have homes.  He couldn't believe that people in America would be homeless.  I'm still dumb-struck by that moment in the car.

Yesterday was the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; it was a big celebration at Mass.  When the time to sing the Gloria came (which by the way, not only does EVERYONE sing, but they all sing completely acapella and loudly, no matter what their voices sound like) they all started dancing and clapping and waving their arms in the air.  Of course, I danced and clapped along.  After the Mass, one of the youth of the parish (who told me he wants to be a priest) asked me if they dance like that in America.  I told him no; we don't like dancing in our liturgy.  His mouth literally dropped open.  He asked me if I was serious, and when I said yes, he said, "Not even during the Gloria?  You don't dance for the Gloria?!"  I told him no.  He could not conceive of not singing and dancing during Mass. "God is with us.  It is a time of joy!  Why wouldn't you want to dance?" another youth asked me.  What could I answer?

I don't want to give the impression I'm looking down on America, because I'm not.  I love my home and I do love my country.  But perhaps it's time for us to stop thinking there is no room for us to grow.  Maybe we need to start seeing what we can learn from others, even something as simple as laughter and joy.

Peace.

Our Lady of the Desert Cathedral - my home parish for the summer.

In the beginning...

It all started in the summer of 2011...I was assigned to the parish of Our Lady of the Snows in Reno, NV for the summer.  One day I was told that an African bishop would be coming to stay for a few days.  I was even asked if I would mind driving him around here and there.  Little did I know this would be the start of a big adventure :-)

My first impression of Bishop Frank Nubuasah of Francistown, Botswana, was of course that he wasn't like most bishops I had ever met.  First of all, he introduced himself to me as "Frank."  I had never met a bishop who did that. (I have since met exactly one other bishop who introduced himself to me by his first name and without the "bishop" title, but Bishop Frank was first.)  As I got to know him, I found him to not only be so approachable and personable, but truly humble and gracious.  He had no airs about him about being a bishop.  In fact, he one day did my laundry.  Imagine a bishop doing a seminarian's laundry!  I had left some clothes in the washer.  I came home and found them neatly folded and stacked in front of my door.  I was so embarrassed!  I asked Bishop Frank why he did my laundry.  He told me that he needed to use the washer.  When I told him that he should have just thrown my wet clothes in the basket wet, he responded "Why would I do that? We are brothers." That's the kind of man he is: a true servant-leader.

But what struck me most of all about this man were his stories about Francistown and his work as Bishop.  He expressed to me his worry about his priests, who are so isolated.  "I often worry how they are dealing with being alone," he told me.  Bishop told me about the farm he started and was caring for to help teach the people how to take care of animals and crops.  He told me about the schools and clinics he was trying to build.  And he told me about all the people dying from AIDS that the Church must care for.  "Do you know how much it costs to save one human life from AIDS?" he asked. "Fifty dollars.  That's it.  Fifty dollars pays for a month's worth of AIDS medication which gives a mother her son for another month, or a husband his wife for another month, or children their father for another month.  Fifty dollars.  That's it."  Of course, I was reduced to tears.  How often does fifty dollars pass through my hands?  And not even for essential things?  For weeks after, I found myself measuring my spending habits in terms of lives (perhaps something I need to do again...).  I was very deeply touched by everything this man said and represented.  

Then came the moment that started this journey.  We were talking about simplicity of life and I jokingly said that perhaps I should come visit Francistown, as it might be good for me.  The Bishop looked at me and said with all seriousness, "It would be wonderful if you could come for a summer.  You should ask if your diocese would be willing to send you for a pastoral experience."  Now I think it is important to understand that I have never had a calling to be a missionary.  I admire people who do it and seem to love it, but it is just not me (which is why I suppose I'm a diocesan seminarian).  But this stuck in my heart.  I couldn't get the thought of coming to Francistown out of my mind.  I prayed about it and talked to Frs. Chuck and Paul (Spiritual and Vocation Directors) and both were extremely encouraging.  So I wrote a proposal to Bishop Calvo and our Seminarian Board asking if I could go.  I have to be honest, I didn't expect them to say yes, or to do so quickly.  Literally, they met on a Tuesday and Wednesday I received a text saying, "Chris.  Looks like you're going to Africa" from one of the board members.  That was in early November 2011.  Seven months and 2 immunization shots later, here I am in Botswana.  It is still surreal in many ways.  Just last night, I laid down in bed and looked out my window at a different set of stars and constellations and told myself, "I'm really here."  It's only been a few days, but already things are afoot (which I'll blog about later).  Now you know how it is I got here.  I'm on mini-vacation right now until Bishop Frank returns and I get my formal assignment, but for now I am enjoying the hospitality and faith of the people of Francistown and Our Lady of the Desert Cathedral.  More to come! 

Peace.