A Shepherd In The Field

  My Siblings in Christ, This has been a trying time for our country. The election results have left some joyous and others despondent and fearful. Our public discourse made the darkest parts of our human interactions painfully evident. The willingness, ease, and capacity to hurt people should unsettle our collective consciousness. Our light as a people seems somewhat diminished. There is a growing sense of bitterness and distrust—a gnawing despair in the realization that we do not know our neighbor or community. Yet we hope when all seems hopeless. That hope is not in institutions or governments. It stems from our true identity. While we rejoice when the values we hold dear as Christians align with those of our elected officials and despair when they do not, our identity rests in Christ. Through the ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been adopted into a family that transcends earthly governments and politics. (John 1:12) Jesus taught us true humanity and how to

 I am catching up on two days. All have been packed with visits and events. Each day, we start before sunrise and conclude late into the evening. For me, this is not tiring but invigorating.   Let’s start with the dedication of the Anglican Communion Forest in Central America located at El Maizal in El Salvador.  It was a two-hour drive from San Salvador, and we were warned it would be warm (minor understatement).  The drive was spectacular, and the people are beautiful.  I feel so at home in Latin America.  The faithful traveled from various parts of the diocese, and the service was an outdoor Eucharist filled with singing.  The warning about the heat was an understatement.  The humidity hovered around 88%, and well into the third hour, the “feels like” temperature read 106.  We traveled another hour and had lunch on the Pacific Ocean at a restaurant that leases on property owned by the Diocese of El Salvador. The view and the food were spectacular. Following lunch, we drove 45 minute

The last two days were difficult to describe.  We spent yesterday at the Casa Myrna Mack, which is a respite center for migrants who are traveling through Guatemala. Founded by Jesuits and named after a migrant activist, Myrna Mack, who was martyred, the center is part of a network that also provides education and advocacy for migrants and offers programs to address the violence and displacement due to climate change, which are the main reasons people need to leave their home.  There are no pictures, just a heart that was breaking listening to the stories of migrants from Venezuela who walked to Guatemala City with young children.  Looking into the eyes of the parents worried about their children and the long, uncertain, danger-filled journey ahead.   Looking into the eyes of the children, sensing they are far away from their homes, not understanding why, just reaching out seeking reassurance that everything will be alright.   We must be the church and embrace both parents and children

  It never fails to take my breath away.  Whether sharing a meal with the Dine at Good Shepherd Mission, Ft. Defiance, Arizona, celebrating Eucharist along the El Paso/Juarez border, or sharing the peace with the faithful at St. Andrews in Ramallah, the Holy One left me speechless once again.  We spent the majority of the day at Iglesia Santa Cruz in Balanyá.  Our Mayan siblings have a deep and resolute faith despite the challenges of climate change, hard labor in the fields, and often being forgotten by others.  The region around Balanyá is the most important agricultural area in Guatemala.  The indigenous Mayan population largely work the fields. They are experiencing drought, and the crops desperately need rain.  Climate change is affecting their rainy season, which was supposed to start in May, but they have not seen any rain. For years, this congregation had worshiped in a parishioner’s house or the rented rectory, and St. David’s Church in Radnor provided funds to purchase land o

The day included visiting the national museum, meetings with the various diocesean committees, and an Evening Prayer service at the Cathedral. I was most moved by an art exhibit created by migrant children. I encourage you to reflect on these drawings and feel the emotion these “our” children express.  It is not a political issue but drawing near to the heart of Christ and doing those radical things God has called us to do.  There are no differences or excuses; we carry the name of Jesus Christ.    A dream beyond the border Tears and Suffering Migration as a family The Road of Death Because of Love “Solitude in the desert” Tears in loneliness The American Dream Migration brings death One can leave ranch but, one's ranch will never