New Events & Resources in Spanish-Language Orthodoxy

Over the past year or so, this blog has given lots of overage to the explosive growth of Orthodoxy in Guatemala. With that growth comes the possibility that Orthodox Christianity will blossom not only in Guatemala but also throughout Latin America, and among Spanish speakers living in the United States. There are a number of new events and resources that are, little by little, helping to make that continuing growth a reality.

Very recently, the Orthodox Christian Network (OCN) launched a Spanish-language version of its flagship internet radio program "Come Receive the Light." Each episode of the new Spanish-language version, called "Vengan a Recibir la Luz," will feature talks by Fr. David Wooten and Fr. Aristidis Arizi, will include hymns and Scripture readings in Spanish, and will also feature a sermon by Fr. Michael Marcantoni. Father David Wooten is a former Spanish teacher who now serves a parish in Miami that is entirely Spanish-speaking. The Rev. Aristidis Arizi also serves in Miami and spent most of his youth in Panama. The Rev. Michael Marcantoni is originally from Puerto Rico and currently serves in Raleigh, North Carolina. Working together, they will help to increase the online resources for Spanish speakers, which already include many resources by Fr. Antonio Perdomo, such as his two podcasts on Ancient Faith Radio: Glorificando a Dios Diariamente and Toda Gloria a Dios. More information on the launch of "Vengan a Recibir la Luz" can be found here.

This coming May, the Antiochian Orthodox cathedral in Los Angeles will sponsor a short retreat for Orthodox Spanish Speakers to help them grow in knowledge of their faith. St. Nicholas Cathedral in Los Angeles has a long history of Spanish-language ministry, and every Spring/early summer they sponsor a Spanish-language retreat on a different topic within Orthodox Christianity. More information is forthcoming.

This coming July, a small mission team will be formed to minister to native Aztec Orthodox in San Esteban, Mexico. The inspiration for the mission team comes from a recent exploratory trip that occurred in the region in January of 2013 (more info here). This summer's small mission team will be composed of people who are fluent or near-fluent in Spanish (essential for this region of Mexico), and will aim to present the Orthodox Christian faith in a teaching capacity. For more information, please contact Fr. Ted Pisarchuck.

Finally, OCMC is sponsoring a short-term mission team to Guatemala for this coming summer. OCMC has sponsored a Guatemala team for many years, sending short-term missionaries to the Orthodox orphanage in Guatemala City, but this is the first time that the team will instead be traveling to the Mayan communities in the highlands of Guatemala. The team will work in the same communities that I visited last summer and featured in this blog. More info is available here.

I pray that more events and resources will continue to spring up to meet the need for Spanish-language Orthodox ministry. I'll keep you posted when they do!

The Eye of the Storm: Celebrating Christmas after Sandy Hook

Many people have remarked on how terrible it is that the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School took place during Advent, leading up to Christmas. Such cruelty and loss of life is unimaginable at any time of the year. But now especially, when we sing "all is calm, all is bright," how can we pretend to forget the violence and darkness that surround us?

Edmund Steimle reflects on this question in his incredible sermon for Christmas Eve, called "The Eye of the Storm." The sermon was actually written several decades ago, but his answer is a powerful message for us after the tragedy at Sandy Hook. Steimle reminds us that, despite our nostalgic pictures of Christ in the manger, this little child was born into the eye of a violent storm, a storm that would pursue him to the cross. "And so tonight," says Steimle, "you and I come here, not wanting, I hope, to block out or forget the storms around us. Because if we do, we miss the whole point."

Check out the sermon below:

The Eye of The Storm

by Edmund Steimle

A Christmas Eve sermon on Luke 2:1-20:

I think I shall never forget the time when hurricane Hazel, back in the fifties, was sweeping through eastern Pennsylvania and hit Philadelphia, where we were living at the time, head on. Unlike most hurricanes, which lose much of their force when they turn inland, this one hit with all the fury of a hurricane at sea: drenching rains, screaming winds, trees uprooted, branches flying through the air, broken power lines crackling on the pavements. It was frightening. Then suddenly there was a letup, a lull. Shortly all was still. Not a leaf quivered. The sun even broke through briefly. It was the eye of the storm. “All was calm, all was bright.” And then all hell broke loose again: branches and trees crashing down, the screaming winds, the torrential rain, the power lines throwing out sparks on the pavement. But that was a breathless moment—when we experienced the eye of the storm.

Christmas Eve is something like that, like the experience of the eye of the storm. At least the first Christmas night. So Luke reports: “And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” The Christmas crèche and the Christmas pageantry picture it so today: “All was calm, all was bright.”

Mary . . . resting now, after the pain of the contractions and the delivery without benefit of anesthetic.

The child . . . sleeping peacefully in the swaddling cloths and the straw. At least we like to think him so. “Silent night, holy night.” Of course, maybe his face was all contorted reds and purples with the frantic bleating of a newborn child, fists clenched, striking out at this new and strange environment after nine months in the warmth and security of the womb. But no. Let's picture him sleeping, exhausted perhaps from his frantic protests. “All is calm, all is bright. . . . Silent night, holy night.” The eye of the storm.

For make no mistake, he comes at the center of a storm—both before and after the birth. The storm before: From devastation of a flood expressing the anger of God with a people whose every thought and imagination was evil, to his anger at the golden calf, to the destruction of Jerusalem and the Exile in Babylon, to Jonah desperately trying to run away from this God, to the narrow legalism of the Pharisees, to the oppression of the Roman occupation. He comes at the eye of the storm before.

And what followed this “silent night, holy night”? The storm after: the massacre of the innocent male children two years old and under by Herod in his frantic effort to deal with the threat of this child sleeping in the manger. And as he grew up, his family thought him a little bit nuts, his hometown neighbors threw him out of the synagogue when first he tried to preach. Then the sinister plots to do away with him, the angry mob crying for his blood on that first Good Friday, and the end? Death to the child.

What we tend to forget on Christmas is that these lovely stories of the birth—the manger, the shepherds, the angel chorus in the night sky, the wise men following the star and presenting their rare and expensive gifts—are not children's stories. If you think it takes children to make a Christmas, then you don't belong in church tonight. These are adult stories for adult Christians. Oh, let the children delight in them of course—and get out of them what they may. But they were written down by adult members of the early Christian community for other adult members of the Christian community.

Moreover, they are postresurrection stories, that is, they grew up in the tradition after the resurrection. Who knows where they came from? They came into being in the years following the resurrection as negro spirituals came into being, as mature Christians pondered the mystery of the beginnings of this life whom they had seen die and rise again from the dead. They knew about the storm which preceded the birth. And they knew even more—first hand—about the storm that followed. They were not carried away by “the romantic fantasies of the infancy.” Like one standing in the eye of a hurricane, they were aware of the storm that went before and that followed.

And so tonight you and I come here, not wanting, I hope, to block out or forget the storms around us. Because if we do, we miss the whole point. We too are aware tonight of the storms which surround this “silent night, holy night.”

We are aware of the confusion and destruction around us in the world. The violence in the Middle East, southern Africa, and Northern Ireland, the hunger in the Third World. Or closer to home, the muggings on the streets, the unemployment (a grim and passive kind of violence), the ghettos, the injustice to the blacks, the inner cities gutted by poverty and inflation and the massive indifference—sloth is the old-fashioned word for it—on the part of so many of us who do not live in the gutted inner cities. Moreover, we are aware of the precarious future which haunts all of us. People are dying this Christmas night as people die on every night. As one day, one night, you will die and I will die. And before that the inner loneliness which no one of us can entirely shake, and the specter of hopelessness which haunts us—for peace in the world, for the end of inflation, for families breaking up, for our nations as they drift along often so aimlessly, and for ourselves and our future.

The point is, we don't forget all this on Christmas Eve—or block it out. Like a person standing in the eye of a hurricane, we are aware of it all. If you want to forget it all tonight—OK! Go home and listen to Bing Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas. And there's a place for that—but not here!

For what other message on Christmas Eve is worth listening to? What peace? What hope? If it is simply a forgetting—when we can't forget, really—then we're reducing the Christmas story to a bit of nostalgia and indulging ourselves in the sentimental orgy which Christmas has become for so many, or we are reduced to the deep depression which grips so many others on Christmas Eve.

No. The Bible—praise God—tells it like it is. They saw the birth of the child as the eye of the storm—a peace which passes all understanding because it is not a peace apart from conflict, pain, suffering, violence, and confusion; that's the kind of peace we can understand all too well. But it's a peace like the peace in the eye of a hurricane, a peace smack in the middle of it all, a peace which indeed passes all understanding.

So in this hour, this night, worshiping at the manger of the child when “all is calm, all is bright,” we rejoice in the hope born of the conviction that the storm, the destruction, the violence, the hopelessness, does not have the last word. But God—who gives us this “silent night” in the middle of the storm—he has the last word.

So rejoice . . . and sing the carols . . . and listen to the lovely ancient story and light the candles . . . and be glad—with your families, your friends, with the God who is above all and through all and in you all, who comes to us miraculously in this child, this night, when “all is calm, all is bright.”


Taken from: Thomas Long and Cornelius Plantinga, eds.,  A Chorus of Witnesses (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1994), 237-242.

Fr. Andres, leader of Guatemalan Orthodox, visits North America

Fr. Andres, the charismatic leader of the new Guatemalan Orthodox Church, touched down in Boston last week to spread the word about the Guatemalan Church. He spent a week at Holy Cross/Hellenic College (Nov 5-9), where he spoke at the annual Missions Week, organized by the Missions Institute. He was accompanied by Fr. John Chakos, the O.C.M.C. missionary priest who is helping to catechize the newly chrismated Orthodox in Guatemala. Fr. Andres and Fr. John delivered a public lecture on Nov. 8th about the Guatemalan Church, entitled "Mission to Guatemala: Receiving the Mayan People Into the Orthodox Church."

You can view the full lecture and Q&A session online. Take a look below:

Introduction


The Presentation


The Q&A Session

A closer look at life & prayer in Guatemala

Greetings from the United States of America! After two very full months in Guatemala, this gringo has finally returned home. First observation upon returning? My fellow gringos are gigantic! Finally I can stop feeling like Goliath, and my poor ol' cabeza can quit whacking into every other door frame and stray board. With any luck, I might still have a few brain cells left!

Waving goodbye just before leaving

I've had a chance to look back on my last eight weeks abroad, and I'd like to offer a couple more reflections on the Church in Guatemala. My last post concluded the short chronicle covering Metropolitan Athenagoras' historic first visit to the parishes of the Guatemalan Orthodox Church. Now I would like to give you a closer look at daily life and prayer in the Guatemalan Church.

Daily Life

After finishing my work as the metropolitan's handy photographer, I began a one-month stay with Fr. Evangelos, the priest who oversees dozens of parishes in Guatemala and México. This gave me a nice taste of daily life in Guatemala and also a chance to see some beautiful sights. We spent a lot of time with Fr. Evangelos' extended family (he himself is unmarried), relaxed in his house in Aguacate, took a few trips to gorgeous rivers and springs, and enjoyed some delicious Guatemalan food. Here are a few sights from life with Fr. Evangelos and his family:

[Click on any photo to enlarge]

Eating in Santa Cruz de la Quiché with Fr. Evangelos
and his mother

Yummy tostada!

Traveling with Fr. Evangelos and company

Río Lagartero, near Nentón



Río Lagartero

Banana leaves are huge! Some are even bigger.

On our way to the Laguna Brava, where we
slept for one night and enjoyed the gorgeous
water. We rode there on horseback.

Paddling across the Laguna Brava

Fr. Evangelos' house in Aguacate

A typical breakfast: tortillas, beans, eggs, and coffee

Many parishioners are very poor, so they bring corn as a
donation to Fr. Evangelos. We used the corn to make different
food items from scratch. Here I am helping to make pan de
elote, a dense, sweet, and creamy corn bread.

Mixing the batter for pan de elote

Pan de elote: the finished product!

A yummy fruit called lichas in Guatemala. They are also named
rambutans, and I believe they originally came from Asia.

Lichas are a fun fruit to eat! They are also great for gringo
travelers because they're cheap and have a thick skin that keeps
them free from any kind of contamination. The texture is sort of
like a grape and the flavor is like a mix between grapes and
plums. Watch out for pits!

Traveling from the mountains to the Pacific Coast

Ahoy from the shore of the Pacific!

 Prayer and Worship



It wasn't just fun and games with Fr. Evangelos; we also did plenty of work! When it comes to his efforts as a priest, Fr. Evangelos is a workhorse, spending week after week on the road trying to care for his far-flung parishes. I traveled with him and assisted him during the services. Also, knowing that I wanted to practice Spanish, Fr. Evangelos would frequently put me on the spot to force me to learn more. He would unexpectedly ask me to say some words to the congregations during the services, and he also had me deliver two separate hour-long presentations to the catechists and youth leaders in México. Because I was "in action" much more during these activities, I don't have as many pictures, but here are a few:

A wedding at Fr. Evangelos' parish in Aguacate. Weddings
are done once or twice a month and often with multiple couples
at once. On this day there were four couples, all of them
appearing to be in their teens.

"Our Wedding"

A fitting visual metaphor: marriage needs to be lifted up by
Christ, the Church, Our Lady and the Saints.

This juxtoposition sums up where the Guatemalan Orthodox
Church is right now: Fr. Evangelos censes during the Divine
Liturgy while the band plays loudly behind him. The people are
in a long transition from a charismatic and music-oriented spirit
of prayer to the quieter spirit of Orthodox liturgical life.

Baptism in the church at Inchehuex

One of the "vigil" services, not to be confused with Eastern
Orthodox all-night vigils. These vigils are four hours of loud
Christian music, clapping, occasional dancing, and a passionate
gospel message delivered by Fr. Evangelos in the middle of
the service.

Meeting with the leaders of the Mexican communities. This is
where I delivered my presentations to the same group
of leaders, instructing them on some basic Orthodox practices,
such as the sign of the cross, venerating icons, etc.

In addition to traveling with Fr. Evangelos, I also spent some time traveling with Fr. Blas to an area of México where he serves in a few communities. Fr. Blas is one of the three married Guatemalan priests, and he lives close to Fr. Andres in Escuintla. He and I traveled to Toquián, México, which is right next to the Mexican half of the volcano Tacaná (the border goes across the volcano). The two parishes that we visited were poorer than most of the other parishes that I have seen. Here are some pictures from our visits:

The sign for the first parish that we visited

The community is very poor, possessing only this
makeshift hut for a church.

A moment of personal prayer when everyone speaks out their
own words at the same time

House blessing

Another four-hour vigil with music, clapping, plenty of
excitement, and a message at the end

Walking to the second parish

Our charcoal came from someone's wood cooking stove

It was more difficult to get these coals going
than the synthetic stuff that's common in the
U.S.A.

The parish

Songs at the end of Liturgy

That wraps up this mostly-visual post on daily life and prayer in the Guatemalan Orthodox Church. I pray that many of you will get a chance to see these things for yourself! The Guatemalan Orthodox could use your presence, your love, and especially--whether you travel to Guatemala or not--your prayers. Thank you all for keeping them in mind and heart!

Visiting the Church in Guatemala, Part Three: México

¡Buenos días a todos! This post will be the last installment in my chronicle covering Metropolitan Athenagoras' historic visit. On Monday, June 25th, we finished our last day in Guatemala, and on Tuesday, we crossed into México to visit the communities that are just over the border. The metropolitan spent two days in México, but I accompanied him only for the first day. On this day, we went to a large and energetic meeting in a town called Tziscao, about one mile over the border.

Early in the morning, we split up into two groups: Fr. Andrés took Metropolitan Athenagoras through an entry with a stronger border patrol and the rest of us took a rough back-road to an entry point without any patrol. A number of us hadn't brought our papers for official entry, so this road offered us an opportunity to enter México without problems. I found it rather ironic, in light of the current political debates in the U.S., that we were sneaking into México as illegal immigrants! True, we weren't actually immigrants, but I still couldn't help laughing when we crossed over illegally, especially when I saw the sign at the border: The United States (of México).

The community in Tziscao has about eighty families, but even more people from communities all around Tziscao came to join the reunión that day, swelling the numbers to over one thousand people. Considering that the reunión was held on a weekday, when the men have to work, that number is even more impressive. When the metropolitan arrived, he was greeted on the main road by throngs of people from different areas: excited community leaders holding up welcome signs, fistfuls of confetti, and enthusiastic youth groups that chanted “¡Que viva el Arzobispo! ¡Que viva!” After climbing up the hill, we arrived at the meeting house and the people erupted in music and songs. Speeches followed, interspersed with more music and cheers, and the reunión wrapped up with the communities handing gift after gift to the metropolitan and to others who accompanied him.

After the reunión, we had lunch together, eating a type of fish that is very common in Guatemala and the areas bordering Guatemala: Tilapia. Then, after a brief rest, the metropolitan left to spend his last day of travels in Toquián, another community in México. I stayed behind and enjoyed an afternoon with three priests from Guatemala and their families and friends. We took a leisurely walk along the edge of Lago Internacional Tziscao, admiring the gorgeous water and enjoying one another's company. What a relaxing way to finish the very busy time accompanying the metropolitan!


[The photos in this post are all in the above slideshow--click here to enlarge!]

Although I only spent one day in México with Metropolitan Athenagoras, I continued visiting other communities in México in the weeks following the metropolitan's departure. I will dedicate another post to those travels, but here a few words right now about the communities in México. For want of time, the metropolitan was only able to visit two of the locations in México, but in the whole country there are about 52 Orthodox communities under Fr. Andrés. These are concentrated almost entirely in Southern  México, especially in the state of Chiapas where Tziscao is located. A great number of the people in these communities originally came from Guatemala, so the communities here are a natural outgrowth from the Guatemalan Orthodox Church. Both Fr. Andrés and Fr. Evangelos have told me that the parishes in Southern México have at least has much potential for growth as the ones in Guatemala, if not more. Within a span of only five years, the total number of communities in Southern México has grown from under twenty to about 52 today, and more communities are still seeking to enter the fold. Moreover, in México there are some good potential candidates for ordination, which could begin to meet the desperate need for more priests to serve the expanding communities.

As a final note on the historic visit of the metropolitan, the communities in México repeated what so many others have said: “now we know that we are not alone.” In my subsequent visits to México, I heard many of the Mexican catechists express their concerns over the pressures that they face, especially from the Roman Catholic Church. Like many of the Orthodox in Guatemala, they feel under attack by their Christian neighbors, and in two cases in México, the Roman Catholic Church actually succeeded in shutting down churches that were under Fr. Andrés. I cannot fully evaluate the situation, but I do know how the people feel: attacked, isolated, and poor. They take great courage in Fr. Andrés, who has sacrificed so much of his life to fight for them, and now that Metropolitan Athenagoras has come to visit them, they take great hope and courage in the support of the broader Orthodox Church.

Please continue to keep the Orthodox Church in Guatemala, México, and all of Latin America in your prayers. They are looking to us for solidarity. Please also consider ways that you can help them with material supplies and with education (perhaps God is calling you to visit Guatemala to teach?). Before I left for this trip, many people gave me liturgical materials and monetary donations for the Church here; I will gladly receive any more donations once again after I return, and I will ensure that they are sent to Guatemala (probably through Fr. John Chakos, who frequently flies to and from Guatemala). Finally, thank you so much for all that you have already given, your support, your prayers, your interest and encouragement, and your love!

While this is the end of the chronicle of the metropolitan's visit, keep an eye out for a couple more upcoming posts covering my subsequent travels to other, smaller communities. I'll give you a small taste of daily life here in Guatemala, plenty more photos, and I'll give you a bit more information and what the Church looks like here in the land of Guate! ¡Nos vemos pronto!

Visiting the Church in Guatemala, Part Two: The Highlands

Greetings once again from Guatemala! Forgive the long pause in updates; this is the first time that I've had internet access in almost a month. Most people in Guatemala outside the largest cities have sparse access to the internet, and many people don't even have email addresses. What a difference from the U.S.!

In this post, my trek through Guatemala with Metropolitan Athenagoras continues into the highlands of the Sierra Madre mountain range. On Thursday, June 21st, we began our six-hour trip from Nueva Concepción, on the Pacific Coast, to a small town high, high up in the mountains, called Agua Alegre (about 6,500 feet above sea level). The entire morning we kept climbing and climbing up the mountains in a seemingly endless ascent, and as we finally approached our destination, we could look out over the mountains and see some of the tallest volcanoes in Guatemala. This country really is amazing: although it's no larger than many of the states in the U.S., the variety of topography, climates and wildlife rivals most parts of our country. Within six hours we had traveled from a tropical climate with huge lizards, bananas, and sugar cane fields, to a chilly mountaintop with pine bushes and sheepherders.

[Click on any picture to enlarge]

In the distance you can see Tacaná, the second tallest volcano
in Guatemala. In fact, at over 13,000 feet, it's the second
highest peak in all of Central America.

Agua Alegre is at the very top of the mountains that surround the large city called Huehuetenago. This city is the capital city of the department of Huehuetenango (a department is the Guatemalan equivalent of a state, in terms of organizational hierarchy). The department of Huehuetenango is located in the south-western/mid-western region of Guatemala, on the border of México, and this department contains the largest number of Orthodox Christians in all of Guatemala—it's the heart of the Guatemalan Orthodox Church. The community at Agua Alegre probably has 80 families, but at the gathering that day there were even more because the communities from the whole surrounding region sent delegations to greet the bishop. Instead of a prayer service, we had our first of many reuniones (meetings), which were sort of like rallies or high-energy gatherings which began with songs and cheers as the bishop arrived, then speeches followed (from the bishop and his retinue, and then from the various leaders who came from the different communities), and finally more songs and dancing to wrap things up.

One of the delegations from a community close to Agua Alegre

Padre Andres, delivering another moving speech

The people of Agua Alegre and the other communities in Huehuetenango are, for the most part, very poor and hard working. They are almost entirely from indigenous roots, many still wear the clothing that is traditional in their communities, and a large number still speak one of the twenty-one indigenous languages of Guatemala (e.g. Chuc, Popti, Mam, Quiche, etc.). Here in the villages of Guatemala, I definitely stick out like a huge, white, sore thumb! I'm often a foot taller than the people around me, and I can't tell you how many times I've hit my head on random objects. However, it's nice to be in places where Gringos are even harder to find than internet access. I also feel very blessed because the people in the department of Huehuetenango, unlike in some other areas, are very hospitable and open when a Gringo like me does show up.

Standing next to Hermano Juan, one of the catechists from
Agua Alegre

The church building in Agua Alegre

A typical sight in Agua Alegre

After our visit to Agua Alegre, we drove down to the Centro Apostólico, located on a hill overlooking the city of Huehuetenango. This center is where the catechists meet every two months for instruction in the faith. Although the Guatemalan Orthodox Church is very large, it only has eight priests to serve all the communities, so the priests depend on leaders from the communities to help in catechizing the people. These catechists still have much to learn themselves, but as they continue to receive training, they are slowly bringing that knowledge into their communities.

On Friday, the 22nd, we traveled to Todos Santos for another reunion. The people met us about an hour outside the town and formed a huge parade of cars that drove into the town together. The leading car had a megaphone that blasted announcements throughout the mountaintops: “Bueno!!! His Eminence Metropolitan Athenagoras is making his historic visit to Todos Santos, accompanied by...” Many people didn't fully understand who the visitors were, but they knew that the event was very special and that Metropolitan Athenagoras represents them.

The train of cars that accompanied us into Todos Santos

The leading cars

Entering Todos Santos

The reunion here was very similar to the one in Agua Alegre; the one aspect that was different and really interesting to me was the speeches given by the leaders of the communities who came to greet the archbishop. Here, especially in Todos Santos, many of the speeches were given in a mixture of Spanish and indigenous languages, switching back and forth with every other word. Really interesting!

The reunión was held at this parish, one of the
many Orthodox parishes in Todos Santos

A community representative delivering a speech in a mixture of
Spanish and a Mayan language

The villagers really liked having their picture taken

The next day we had another reunion in Nentón, this time with even more music and dancing. During some of the praise songs, Padre Andres moved among the crowd, praying over people, embracing them, and offering intercessions for healing. His love for the people overflows.

Padre Andres with the people

On Sunday, we took an incredibly rough mountain road up to the church in Tajumucu, where we celebrated the Divine Liturgy and 30-40 teens were chrismated. Here I could see another Catholic practice that still is part of the communities: children are baptized as infants but don't receive communion and confirmation until a later age. Yet, at the same time, I could see in this church some of the largest improvements in iconography of any community in Guatemala. In different ways in different places, the Church here is taking strides towards the fulness of the Orthodox faith.

Traveling through the Sierra Madre

A soccer field with an amazing view! This was just outside
the parish in Tajumucu.

The parish in Tajumucu

Ready for chrismation

Iconography in Tajumucu

On Monday, we had yet another reunion, this time in Aguacate, where Fr. Evangelos lives and has his home parish. Fr. Evangelos is the priest who oversees the vast majority of parishes in all of Huehuetenango as well as the parishes just over the border in Southern México. He is an extremely hard working man who travels almost daily to the different parishes throughout his area. His home parish in Aguacate is one of the largest parishes in the church, and it is one of the only parishes with a complete iconostasis. The reunion was preceded by a short service in which Fr. Evangelos was given the blessing to hear confessions. Then commenced the meeting proper, which was very large, having anywhere from 1,000 to 1,500 people. Once again there was plenty of music, dancing, and joy!

Fr. Evangelos

Greeting the bishop--what a crowd!

Outside the church building in Aguacate

The reunión

"Orthodox youth present"

Throughout all of the meetings, my job was to take photos and videos for the bishop (as well as for myself, of course!). Although it can be a little stressful to run around capturing every moment, I was thankful to be able to be on the outside so that I could take in what was happening.

There I am!

One of the things that stands out in my memory is the recurring theme that I heard in many of the speeches given by the leaders of the communities. “Now we know that we are not alone! We have a bishop who has come to visit us, who stands with us, and we know that we part of the true Church.” These leaders spoke about how much their communities have struggled, how much they have been doubted and belittled by other Christians in their towns (both Catholics and Protestants). The visit of the bishop gave them a reassurance that the larger Church stands with them and that they truly are part of the Apostolic Church that traces its line back to Christ.

The Orthodox faith is being handed down
 to the people of Guatemala, one by one.

There is much more that could be said, but in the interest of space I'll save more for upcoming posts. In the next update, my travels with Metropolitan Athenagoras will wrap up in Tziscao, México. There in Tziscao, we attended one of the most energetic reuniones, where His Eminence was greeted by at least a thousand Orthodox who live in Southern México. Que viva México! Que viva la Iglesia!

Greetings and love to all of you who are still trekking with me through Central America. I'll see you soon in México!