miércoles 17 de junio de 2009
sábado 10 de enero de 2009
Publicamos algunos eventos de la comunidad migrante.
Las celebraciones de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.
Acciones de solidaridad de la comunidad Hispana de Rochester: Colecta de alimentos para
algunas familias migrantes.
jueves 1 de enero de 2009
Everett Hobart, Reflections...April 11 1999 Cycle A Easter Time
A few years ago, we came across a migrant labor camp about a half mile into a orchard in Orleans County. At the end of the dirt road, was a cinder block barracks building with a communal kitchen. There were about 25 people from Mexico and
Central- America, who had come to harvest the apples. I returned to that camp several times during the summer to facilitate a bible study group. Among the workers, there was a young man, Carlos, who turned out to have been trained to lead prayer and liturgies of the word in his home village in the mountains of Honduras since a priest could only get there on horseback about once a year to celebrate sacraments. One evening, Carlos said a prayer in which he thanked God for having provided them a work in a safe place where nobody bothered them, for, the friends, which they had made at the camp, and for the church that had reached out to them in this place so far from home.
On the evening of November 1st, Fr. Ivan Trujillo, a Bolivian priest living in Batavia, came to the camp to celebrate mass of All Saints’ Day. The readings, centered on beatitudes, were especially powerful when heard in that humble place.
When we hear of the disciples meeting behind locked doors for fear of the authorities,
yet celebrating the resurrection of our Lord and breaking bread, I can’t help but think of that camp and the good people in it living in fear of “la migra” – the agents of immigration- and yet celebrating their faith and breaking bread together in their communal kitchen.
The next summer, I got a phone call from Carlos, “Me and my eleven friends have just finished picking blueberries in New Jersey. Is there work for us in New York State?”
I was a little taken back and told him to call me back on the following Thursday. I called Sr. Mary Jane, Director of the Ministry, and said that she would check around. The next day, she gave me the home phone number of a Spanish speaking man in the State Labor Department who would be expecting Carlos’ call on Thursday. Wednesday evening. I got
another call, “We are in Williamson!”. I gave him the phone number and suggested that he contact other organization. On Sunday, he called again, “We’re at the motel in Albion; our money is running out; the State Department of Labor say there might be something in a few weeks; the orchard where I worked last summer can only take two of us and I can’t abandon my friends. What can I do?” I was flabbergasted, what could I do? I called Sr. Mary Jane and she said that she would pray for a small miracle. That evening, I drove up to Albion to see Carlos and his friends. As I entered their room, Carlos said, “With one more, we’d be the twelve disciples!” Next evening, I went to the home of Sylvia Davis, one of my coworkers in the migrant ministry. We went out into her garden filled a bag with jalapeños and tomatoes and then went over to visit a woman at Sodoma Farms and her husband, the crew chief. After a bit conversation, we broached the subject of 11 Hondurans looking for work. A funny look crossed the crew chief’s face, then he said, “That’s strange, 12 Mexican left this morning”. Sr. Mary Jane’s small miracle had happened! I talked to Carlos and his friends a number of times during the season. When I asked how they had had the courage to come up here with absolutely nothing, they replied quit simply: “We knew that God would provide for us”. In Peter’s letter to the “chosen sojourners of the dispersion” he said, “Although you have not seen him you love him; you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy as you attain the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls”.
The next summer, I went to visit another camp one evening. As I was walking through, I heard a voice call out “Hermano Pablo”. It was one of my Honduran friends back for another season (they call me Pablo since Everett is tough for a Spanish speaker to pronounce). That season, Sylvia and I facilitated a RENEW group among Hondurans. The insights that they shared with us were very powerful. When we finished the series and the men were getting ready to leave, we could not keep ourselves from saying to them: “We have seen the face of Jesus in the face of each of you”. In a small way, we shared in Thomas’ exclamation “My Lord and my God”
A few years ago, we came across a migrant labor camp about a half mile into a orchard in Orleans County. At the end of the dirt road, was a cinder block barracks building with a communal kitchen. There were about 25 people from Mexico and
Central- America, who had come to harvest the apples. I returned to that camp several times during the summer to facilitate a bible study group. Among the workers, there was a young man, Carlos, who turned out to have been trained to lead prayer and liturgies of the word in his home village in the mountains of Honduras since a priest could only get there on horseback about once a year to celebrate sacraments. One evening, Carlos said a prayer in which he thanked God for having provided them a work in a safe place where nobody bothered them, for, the friends, which they had made at the camp, and for the church that had reached out to them in this place so far from home.
On the evening of November 1st, Fr. Ivan Trujillo, a Bolivian priest living in Batavia, came to the camp to celebrate mass of All Saints’ Day. The readings, centered on beatitudes, were especially powerful when heard in that humble place.
When we hear of the disciples meeting behind locked doors for fear of the authorities,
yet celebrating the resurrection of our Lord and breaking bread, I can’t help but think of that camp and the good people in it living in fear of “la migra” – the agents of immigration- and yet celebrating their faith and breaking bread together in their communal kitchen.
The next summer, I got a phone call from Carlos, “Me and my eleven friends have just finished picking blueberries in New Jersey. Is there work for us in New York State?”
I was a little taken back and told him to call me back on the following Thursday. I called Sr. Mary Jane, Director of the Ministry, and said that she would check around. The next day, she gave me the home phone number of a Spanish speaking man in the State Labor Department who would be expecting Carlos’ call on Thursday. Wednesday evening. I got
another call, “We are in Williamson!”. I gave him the phone number and suggested that he contact other organization. On Sunday, he called again, “We’re at the motel in Albion; our money is running out; the State Department of Labor say there might be something in a few weeks; the orchard where I worked last summer can only take two of us and I can’t abandon my friends. What can I do?” I was flabbergasted, what could I do? I called Sr. Mary Jane and she said that she would pray for a small miracle. That evening, I drove up to Albion to see Carlos and his friends. As I entered their room, Carlos said, “With one more, we’d be the twelve disciples!” Next evening, I went to the home of Sylvia Davis, one of my coworkers in the migrant ministry. We went out into her garden filled a bag with jalapeños and tomatoes and then went over to visit a woman at Sodoma Farms and her husband, the crew chief. After a bit conversation, we broached the subject of 11 Hondurans looking for work. A funny look crossed the crew chief’s face, then he said, “That’s strange, 12 Mexican left this morning”. Sr. Mary Jane’s small miracle had happened! I talked to Carlos and his friends a number of times during the season. When I asked how they had had the courage to come up here with absolutely nothing, they replied quit simply: “We knew that God would provide for us”. In Peter’s letter to the “chosen sojourners of the dispersion” he said, “Although you have not seen him you love him; you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy as you attain the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls”.
The next summer, I went to visit another camp one evening. As I was walking through, I heard a voice call out “Hermano Pablo”. It was one of my Honduran friends back for another season (they call me Pablo since Everett is tough for a Spanish speaker to pronounce). That season, Sylvia and I facilitated a RENEW group among Hondurans. The insights that they shared with us were very powerful. When we finished the series and the men were getting ready to leave, we could not keep ourselves from saying to them: “We have seen the face of Jesus in the face of each of you”. In a small way, we shared in Thomas’ exclamation “My Lord and my God”
jueves 16 de octubre de 2008
Everett Hobart: Reflections on Migrant Ministry
January 17 1999 2 A Ordinary
Have any of you ever met our Lord Jesus? You probably have.
Even though we may encounter Him from time to time, we have trouble recognizing Him. We all are familiar with that passage in the scripture where the righteous asked “When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And our Lord replied, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Mt 26,35-40).
John the Baptist was fully aware that his entire reason for being was to prepare the way for the Lord. But even he didn’t recognize Jesus until the Spirit came down. Most of us van look back and recognize occasions when we have had an overwhelming sense of the presence of our Lord. That’s when the Holy Spirit was speaking to us.
Eighteen years ago, I had never been outside of the Northeastern US, except for brief business trips, when I was assigned the role of liaison between a laboratory in Torreon, a city of some 200,000 people in North Central Mexico, and the New Jersey laboratory where I worked. After a crash course in Spanish, I headed south of the border. On that first trip, of many, I arranged to spend a weekend in Mexico City. Sunday morning, I was walking around the center of the city when I came upon the Metropolitan Cathedral, founded over 450 years ago. I asked when and where the next Mass would be celebrated and was told: “At noon in that chapel”. Soon, a lively young priest appeared to instruct us in the responses: “Remember, Alleluia is like Ole at the bull fights”. He taught us a song to be sung as we went in procession to the main altar where the Cardinal was to celebrate Mass. Suddenly, I found myself to be the only “gringo” in the midst of a sea of smiling and welcoming Mexican faces marching down the main aisle of the Cathedral of Mexico singing, “Juntos como hermanos”, which roughly translates to: “Together we are brothers and sisters, members of the Church marching ever onward to our meeting with the Lord”
That was one of those overwhelming moments that I mentioned before. As Paul pointed out, we “have been called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours”. Isaiah had prophesied, “I will make you light to the nations that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth”. Well, this experience in a world entirely new to me certainly helped me to realize the truth of that prophecy.
In late 1992, my wife and I moved to Spencerport from New Jersey. The next summer, Sr. Mary Jane Mitchell came to St. John’s to describe her work with the Hispanic migrant ministry. After Mass, as I walked out past her, I said: “Buenos dias, como puedo ayudarla?” And I was hooked. Ever since then, I have been involved with the ministry, visiting the camps and helping to organize the work. I can certainly testify to the truth of the statement of Bishop Fizpatrick of Brownsville, Texas who said:
“ The apostolic Christian’s approach to the Mexican-American farmworker must not be one of bringing Christ to the farmworker family, but of finding Him there.”
Each year some 2500 migrant workers come into the region between Buffalo and Rochester to tend our crops along with permanent core community of some 300 persons. Without these workers the farms couldn’t survive. The great majority of them are from Mexico and Central America, their cultures thoroughly saturated with the Catholic faith. Unfortunately, they exist on the margins of society; isolated by language, prejudice, fear of abuse by authorities, and unjust laws. They work long hours, often over 10 hours per day, six or seven days per week without overtime pay. They live in remote camps, often with no transportation.
The Catholic Church has a great responsibility to provide the spiritual well-being of these visitors. We have to make them feel welcome, provide opportunities to celebrate their faith, help them to deal with their problems and advocate for them both to legislative bodies and to the Anglo community in general. The Hispanic Migrant Ministry sends teams out to visit the camps, spread information about services available to the migrants and welcome them into the area in the name of the Church.
We have formed renew small groups in Spanish in several of the camps during the summers and in Nativity Church in Brockport for the permanent residents during the off-season. We arrange to have Spanish Mass every week at Nativity Church. Padre Ivan offers Mass at a number of the camps, whenever he can. We prepare parents and sponsors for Baptism and children for first communion. We celebrate special feast days such as the Day of the Dead (All souls day) and the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Each June, we collaborate with the Brockport Ecumenical Outreach Committee to have a “Bienvenida”, or welcoming celebration with Mass, dinner and dance for the workers. This letter from one migrant worker says that we must be doing something right:
“I think that it is a great work –the valuable time which you have shared with us, make us feel important in a Country so big…no one will pay you, your treasure is building up in haven and only God will repay you. Keep moving ahead as apostles of Christ.”
January 17 1999 2 A Ordinary
Have any of you ever met our Lord Jesus? You probably have.
Even though we may encounter Him from time to time, we have trouble recognizing Him. We all are familiar with that passage in the scripture where the righteous asked “When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And our Lord replied, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me” (Mt 26,35-40).
John the Baptist was fully aware that his entire reason for being was to prepare the way for the Lord. But even he didn’t recognize Jesus until the Spirit came down. Most of us van look back and recognize occasions when we have had an overwhelming sense of the presence of our Lord. That’s when the Holy Spirit was speaking to us.
Eighteen years ago, I had never been outside of the Northeastern US, except for brief business trips, when I was assigned the role of liaison between a laboratory in Torreon, a city of some 200,000 people in North Central Mexico, and the New Jersey laboratory where I worked. After a crash course in Spanish, I headed south of the border. On that first trip, of many, I arranged to spend a weekend in Mexico City. Sunday morning, I was walking around the center of the city when I came upon the Metropolitan Cathedral, founded over 450 years ago. I asked when and where the next Mass would be celebrated and was told: “At noon in that chapel”. Soon, a lively young priest appeared to instruct us in the responses: “Remember, Alleluia is like Ole at the bull fights”. He taught us a song to be sung as we went in procession to the main altar where the Cardinal was to celebrate Mass. Suddenly, I found myself to be the only “gringo” in the midst of a sea of smiling and welcoming Mexican faces marching down the main aisle of the Cathedral of Mexico singing, “Juntos como hermanos”, which roughly translates to: “Together we are brothers and sisters, members of the Church marching ever onward to our meeting with the Lord”
That was one of those overwhelming moments that I mentioned before. As Paul pointed out, we “have been called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours”. Isaiah had prophesied, “I will make you light to the nations that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth”. Well, this experience in a world entirely new to me certainly helped me to realize the truth of that prophecy.
In late 1992, my wife and I moved to Spencerport from New Jersey. The next summer, Sr. Mary Jane Mitchell came to St. John’s to describe her work with the Hispanic migrant ministry. After Mass, as I walked out past her, I said: “Buenos dias, como puedo ayudarla?” And I was hooked. Ever since then, I have been involved with the ministry, visiting the camps and helping to organize the work. I can certainly testify to the truth of the statement of Bishop Fizpatrick of Brownsville, Texas who said:
“ The apostolic Christian’s approach to the Mexican-American farmworker must not be one of bringing Christ to the farmworker family, but of finding Him there.”
Each year some 2500 migrant workers come into the region between Buffalo and Rochester to tend our crops along with permanent core community of some 300 persons. Without these workers the farms couldn’t survive. The great majority of them are from Mexico and Central America, their cultures thoroughly saturated with the Catholic faith. Unfortunately, they exist on the margins of society; isolated by language, prejudice, fear of abuse by authorities, and unjust laws. They work long hours, often over 10 hours per day, six or seven days per week without overtime pay. They live in remote camps, often with no transportation.
The Catholic Church has a great responsibility to provide the spiritual well-being of these visitors. We have to make them feel welcome, provide opportunities to celebrate their faith, help them to deal with their problems and advocate for them both to legislative bodies and to the Anglo community in general. The Hispanic Migrant Ministry sends teams out to visit the camps, spread information about services available to the migrants and welcome them into the area in the name of the Church.
We have formed renew small groups in Spanish in several of the camps during the summers and in Nativity Church in Brockport for the permanent residents during the off-season. We arrange to have Spanish Mass every week at Nativity Church. Padre Ivan offers Mass at a number of the camps, whenever he can. We prepare parents and sponsors for Baptism and children for first communion. We celebrate special feast days such as the Day of the Dead (All souls day) and the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Each June, we collaborate with the Brockport Ecumenical Outreach Committee to have a “Bienvenida”, or welcoming celebration with Mass, dinner and dance for the workers. This letter from one migrant worker says that we must be doing something right:
“I think that it is a great work –the valuable time which you have shared with us, make us feel important in a Country so big…no one will pay you, your treasure is building up in haven and only God will repay you. Keep moving ahead as apostles of Christ.”
Everett Hobart
On January 20, 2008, our friend Everett ended his journey among us. His death is once more a witness of hope and solidarity. It never stopped being one in reality.
Some months before his death, Everett left me as a legacy a volume of homilies that he had been giving in different parishes during the three liturgical cycles. The purpose of his homilies was to promote in the consciences of the Anglo communities a correct vision of the dignity and mission of the migrant population among us.
The Hispanic migrant community of Brockport valued very much the closeness and apostolic availability of Everett.
Those of us, who shared in the efforts to fulfill to the pastoral needs of the community, knew first hand his evangelical quality, his deep sympathy for the members of our community.
During this year and the next one, we would like to honor the memory of Everett publishing, little by little his reflections. Now, that I have been reading them, his humility and commitment are becoming more transparent to me. I listen to his stories and his faith experience in his encounters with the migrant men and women of our community.
Believers like Everett have undoubtedly already been resurrected by the Lord that he constantly proclaimed.
He showed the sensitivity of a true disciple, and the teachings that he left to those that appreciated him are worth being collected and followed due to their simplicity.
People like Everett, are the proof of how a local Church opens to embrace those that arrive from other cultures and other traditions to become part of the same and only Church. I believe that his testimony is already a fertile seed that is spreading the multicultural Gospel of justice, solidarity and the kingdom of fraternity that Jesus started.
Thanks, Everett.
lunes 29 de septiembre de 2008
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