Chapel of the Fifty Steps

One day of a Pastoral Visit, (continued. Chapter 3)
Once I reassessed my position, after losing all hope of a nap, I remembered "I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me." and started up the steps. No banister for most of them. As we climbed, the usual fireworks went off, and instead of the village band, there were fully outfitted Mariachis. This is the bishop's home town. We saw where he went to High School.

Little girls tossed flower petals, and as we climbed, the bishop told us about a truck that fell off the highway looming overhead, spilling not only its cargo, but 2 million dollars in drug money. The Mafia has been down threatening certain families with kidnapping and death if they don't return the money. Yesterday two of the families left town for parts unknown. We processed into the tiny chapel, the bish festooned with a garland of white flowers and other gifts are presented. Wherever he goes, this bishop awakens new love of God and Church with his loving, pastoral ways.

As usual the catechism children were all in white, sang their song, then rushed forward to sit on the altar when the bishop invited them. After the brief prayers, again the long lines to greet, hug and bless. I began to have visions of those little circus cars that disgorge untold hordes of people, as the lines greeting Monsignor grew longer and longer, far more than could ever fit in that chapel. Every place we've gone, after hearing the bish explain the Permanent Diaconate, there are faithful men whose faces light up as they begin to consider the possibility. And when we see these eager congregations who get little or no pastoral care, I say: WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR?

Well, this report of one day of a Pastoral visit can't go on forever, it just seems like it. On the way back to the parish as the sun was setting, my own Deacon (aka: My Fearless Leader) told me not only was the car fixed, the pastor insisted on paying for it. 350 pesos (35$US)Nope, can't tell you what was wrong, something electrical but don't know that word in Spanish.

OK, OK, I'm getting there: A meeting with the 3 choirs, mostly youth and young adults. We then heard them in the closing mass, and they were GOOD. Actually had a different version of the Our Father I'd never heard. That meeting was enlivened by a floor covered with large crawling ants that occasionally took flight to land on anyone nearby. To forstall possible hysterics Dick suggested I might want to go inside until Mass. ZIP

After mass, servers brought colored drinks and tacos right into the large church and served everyone. That had a cozy, family feeling to it. Our team met for a slightly better supper in the buggy room. The deacon led a rousing song (where does he GET that energy??)but I was too tired to lift a spoon, and just stayed in the priest's dining room where I could see and hear it all. This church has huge window to window dramatic paintings of biblical scenes, at least 8 of them. When we were finally ready to go HOME TO BED, I marched through the bug room, toward the door, dropping a sketchy curtsy in the bishop's direction on my way. I did not manage to work the entire room hugging everyone goodbye as is customary. Not. This. Time.