Six weeks of growth in Guatemala with Maryknoll

I contacted Maryknoll in late March of 2010 asking for help on how to explore the possibility of becoming a missionary priest. Two months later I arrived in the Petén, Guatemala where I spent six weeks that introduced me to new peoples and cultures and  gave me a deeper insight into mission and the vocation to priesthood.

Within a short time of my arrival, Fr. Bill Mullan and Julián, an indigenous catechist allowed me accompany them to the remote villages of the Petén inhabited by the Q’eqchi’, a native Mayan people.  The trip was to be four days long.  On our ride there, Fr. Bill introduced me to the Q’eqchi' language.  A greeting was Sa’ laa chool (literally: is there happiness in your heart) and a response would be Sa’ in chool.  To practice I would greet the people “Sa’ laa chool?” as we passed them on the rocky road to our destination.  We traveled on rocky roads to get to the distant villages where Fr. Bill celebrated Mass with the people.  I was very impressed by the simple and sincere life of the Q’eqchi’; they are mostly subsistence farmers.

The chapels where Mass was offered were small and had dirt floors but the Q’eqchi’ did their best at beautifying them.  They used attractive bright green palm branches on the walls, aromatic leaves garnished the Nave, and soft colored ribbons draped over the aisles.  A last impressive addition to church decoration was the very dress of the people who were all conservatively and neatly dressed.  The Q’eqchi’ hold an atmosphere of intense sacredness during much of their worship.  At one point during the Mass everyone would silently light candles along the width of the altar where baptisms would take place with a ritual of a passing of the candle between godparent and the newly baptized.  Much incense was used. During the liturgy I prayed, grateful for the opportunity to worship with such a fine faith community.  Supper usually followed Mass. At Q’eqchi’ celebrations the pervasive sense of community gives joy.  The people poured cleansing water over our hands and served us our meal.  Then we ate together.  At night on our drive back to our resting place, I would reflect on how much I wished the Church was more present to enrich the faithful  with the Magisterium we take for granted here in the States.   It is not so fully enjoyed by the Q’eqchi’ in the villages that we visited.

One of the more memorable experiences I had on my journey was teaching English to the parish youth and catechesis to the Eucharistic ministers and catechists that lived in near the parish of San Francisco.  This challenging task was an opportunity to step outside my comfort zone, taking the role of teacher to youth only a few years younger and catechists who were far more advanced in the spiritual life than I.  The catechists and Eucharistic ministers inspired me by their willingness to go out and minister to people on their own. Sometimes they had to convince reluctant family members to let them in to administer the Eucharist to those faithful who were bedridden. 

I gave the catechists and Eucharistic ministers three talks on the anointing of the sick and dying, the Eucharist, and the Book of Revelation.  Some of the adults were aged women who traveled for miles and walked considerable distances to get to the talks.  I could only guess at the means they used to get to the town.  I was delighted to give such eager-to-learn Christians more knowledge on the Faith they serve so dutifully.

I also enjoyed teaching English to the youth of San Francisco.  They were very excited about learning even a little bit of English and their enthusiasm was reflected in the rapid progress they demonstrated.  I felt wonderful when one of the younger students finally figured out a grammatical concept I had been drilling with the class for several minutes.  I saw smiles appear on many of the student’s faces when the particular young student was able to prove that he finally understood the concept.  Many of the students were acolytes for the parish and I got to enjoy an outing to a beach house that was sponsored by the parish with them.  We had fun swimming in the great blue lake, Petén Itza. We then ate lunch that we cooked over a fire on the beach.  It was a great time to bond with the parish youth.  At the end of our trip, at the insistence of now Deacon Luis-Alejandro (whose ordination I had the honor to witness), I had the opportunity to explain to the acolytes that I came with Maryknoll and that I was thinking of becoming a priest.

During the latter half of my trip I got to observe the ministry of Fr. Ted in the municipality of Flores.  Fr. Ted let me drive to the different parishes to which he ministers along the high-speed, winding, narrow roads that stretch across the Petén.  At times I would ride on the back with the acolytes or a couple of other young men who helped set up the Masses.  I counted up to eight communities which Fr. Ted visited.  Attending the several Masses celebrated in these communities with Fr. Ted showed me what being a missionary priest is really like.  I was honored to worship with the communities.  The people adorned the chapels with simple posters of the Lord, flowers, and ribbons.  Some of the chapels were too small to fit all of the people.  However, the fervor of the people made up for what was lacking.  I remember the delight of celebrating Mass in the small village of Caoba. The gusto with which the faithful sang the hymns, the way the community decided to receive the Eucharist on their knees and on the tongue, the recollection that they had funded and worked to construct the chapel by their own sweat and dime, all impressed on me a feeling of being part of a community that valued a sincere adoration of God.

I even got to experience some of the discomforts of being a missionary.  On the way back from a Mass in Naranjo a far away village, a storm began to pour rain on a couple of acolytes who rode in the back of Fr. Ted’s pickup.  We had to hold a very heavy piece of tarpaulin over our head but also keep it from falling under the wind, no small effort.  I was quickly drenched.  The whole ordeal took about fourty minutes.  We all got wet, cold, and dirty,  I was pretty irritated by the time we got home.  But the humility of the other two acolytes that shared the ordeal with me reminded me not to be so temperamental and self-centered.  That night the acolytes and I feasted on warm pizza and enjoyed a funny movie.  I guess all’s well that ends well.

A great part of my Guatemalan experience were the relationships that I formed and the knowledge that I received from fellow missionaries.  One of the first experiences I had in Guatemala was riding along with a lay missionary and a doctor from a US Catholic university.  They visited various towns in the area to explore the possibility of opening a program that allows newly graduated doctors to provide the local people with medical care.  Here, I got to see missionaries in action.  Some of the people we met on our visit needed medical attention themselves and asked the doctor to give them a diagnosis, which she did with a clear sense of urgency.  The realization dawned on me that there are some people in this world who solely tend to the needs of the bodily afflicted, not to become wealth but out of compassion and a love for justice. 

My experience would not have been possible without Fr. Bill Mullan and Fr. Ted Custer.  I knew on my journey that if culture shock was ever to get the best of me or if I became lonely so far away from my homeland, I at least had a father I could talk to with the priest I was with.  There was a time in my mission experience when I felt very out of place and was thinking of cutting my trip short, but Fr. Bill encouraged me to keep persevering and stay the course for the six weeks I had planned.  And I’m glad I did.  Through Fr. Ted, Maryknoll provided me with a greater insight into the life of a missionary priest.  Perceiving and participating in Fr. Ted’s public ministry and private devotions gave me the example of a priest I sincerely hope to be like one day.

Finally, when it came to reflection on the culture of the people, no one was more instrumental than Br. Marty. Br. Marty took me on out-of-the-blue outings a couple of times.  A mystic, he was never at a loss for sharing reflections on life, history, and culture.  He would tell me about the many faces you see and how Christ is in each one.  He described how one face can just fill you with love and gave a specific example of such a face: a little girl Mitch (a lay missionary from Los Angeles) was ministering to who needs to get an operation in the United States as well as medication to sustain her life. Br. Marty told me how he had been trying to get funding and a passage to the United States for that child. Conversations with Marty were always very deep and enlightening.

My Guatemalan experience was diverse and educational.  I set out to place myself in a suitable environment to discern whether I was meant to be a missionary.  My trip did more than that.  I received greater insight into life, mission, priesthood, and prayer.  I learned about a people I knew nothing about and got to care for a people I did not even know existed.  Whether it was the happenings, the people of Guatemala, getting to know the missionaries, the prayer, I don’t know, but my six weeks in Guatemala culminated in a maturity of my desire to become a priest for which I will be forever grateful to God. 

Daniel Kellogg - July, 2010