~ by Father Ron Camarda

Just this evening, I prepared my dinner of leftover rotisserie chicken that I had bought from Publix. I was filled with more gratitude for this bird tonight than when I had it last night. Without much gratitude last night, I wolfed down the chicken while I watched television. Tonight, I resisted turning on the television or music.

I ate in silence.

Eating in silence is a daily experience at Benedictine monasteries. The monks taught me to simply enjoy my food and those who brought it to my table. My senses would come alive in gratitude with the silence. Silence is important to all good liturgies, especially Eucharistic celebrations. The time right after Communion insists on at least a moment of silence. We take the time to give thanks for Jesus who gives up His life so that we can have life. If we leave immediately after we take the Body of Christ and the Sacred Blood without a moment of silence, we miss something.

The time with friends and family right after a great meal continues to feed the soul.

With all the distractions of this world, it is becoming more and more difficult to become true stewards of any supper, never mind the Last Supper. Let me give one simple example.

My meal tonight consisted of olive oil, butter, dill weed, asparagus, spinach, unsalted cashews, pistachios, zucchini, yellow squash, basil, two small tomatoes, a chicken leg, a chicken wing and a part of the chicken breast. I also had a glass of red wine and a glass of water. The scraps of the vegetables and nuts I threw out in my garden. (Yes, I know I am asking for trouble with raccoons and such but I think of them as poor little annoying creatures of God.) Then, as I sat in silence, I began to really taste my food and give thanks to the plants and animal that gave up their lives so I can live. Gratitude filled my heart for those who grew the crops and raised the chicken. Then I thought of the scientists and inventors who brought about better yields for the harvest of food. Let’s not forget the electricity to cook the food and the people who made the plates and utensils. It became apparent to me how often I take so many things for granted and waste so much food and silence.

When I lead classes on prayer, I often have the students take twenty minutes to eat an orange with seeds in quiet. I invite them to explore the orange skin, peel the skin with their bare hands while smelling the escaping scent. I give orders like, “Explore the different textures. Taste the bitter inside of the skin. Separate the sections carefully. Roll each section carefully in your mouth and then crush it and let the flavor explode in your mouth. Allow the skin and seeds to pile up before you.” Then after a little silence I raise questions like, “Have you ever thought about those who planted the seeds for the orange tree? Have you considered the farmers and the migrant workers along with their families? How about the truck drivers and the cashier who sold you the oranges? How did the tractors and trucks get their gas and oil?” As you can see, it takes a lot of people to bring us a simple orange.

Then I ask about how God could be compared to an orange? What do you glean from eating slowly and reflecting on this simple eating of an orange?

And these are the questions I contemplated on as I ate my dinner tonight. I held the little chicken wing in my hands and thanked God for this little creature that is sustaining me. I asked forgiveness for taking the gifts of my food for granted so often.

This past Saturday, I will have spent a few hours at St. Joseph’s enrichment center packing my two 50 lb bags with rosaries, soccer balls, Frisbees, prayer cards, vitamins, medicines, and all the things we need to bring for my third “Mission Honduras”. We leave for Honduras on the 13th of February for seven days. We are people like you. We are doctors, nurses, helpers and a priest. We will team up with the local Honduran doctors and nurses from Yoro. We will visit five remote villages in a big yellow bus. At night some of us will celebrate Eucharist in a dimly lit room except for the last evening when we celebrate at the local church. In the church before we break bread, we will answer two questions: “What was my greatest sorrow this week?” and “What was my greatest joy this week?”

I love visiting the poor. They give us so many gifts more than we bring. The greatest gift they give me is a heightened sense of gratitude and appreciation. The simplicity of life is something I truly long for. Every day the poor treat us to lunch when we break from our portable clinic with hundreds, if not thousands of people. Sometimes my job is to assist as a dentist assistant and sometimes I simply play sports or pray the Rosary with the children. I seem to really need the nourishment of lunch to get through the day. Lunch is usually something like beans, rice and a bit of meat. It is so humbling to accept food from the poor. Rarely do I get sick. Trust in Jesus is essential.

Since I was 19 years old on merchant ships traveling to Africa, Mexico and Europe, I have been gifted with food from the poor. One time in particular that is vividly memorable is when my ship pulled into Doula, Cameroon. I was twenty years old. It was Sunday and I went to the local Catholic Church. It had rained the night before and the roof did not stop the rain from making puddles in the aisle. The procession was a dance of the children splashing in the puddles with their bare feet led by the processional cross and followed by the priest. My eyes and ears feasted on this divine worship. As I sat in the pew during the homily in French, I noticed this absolutely beautiful African woman with a precious child in her arms. She looked sad but very prayerful. I reached into my pocket and found my last bit of money on me, twenty dollars. I only made about $400 a month during my last six months at sea. What I saved had to sustain me through my last year of school.

I thought to myself how grateful I was that I had a ship to go back to. I could make more money than most of the people in this beautiful but horrifically poor country. There was food back at the ship and I had a top-notch education. I was healthy enough to walk the couple of miles back to the ship if I didn’t have enough money for a taxi. I was filled with gratitude and love for this woman and her child.

So as the Mass ended, I walked up to this woman to give her all of the money I had in my pocket. In my youth and naïveté, I wasn’t prepared for what happened. As I reached out with the money in my hand, my eyes realized that she had no hands.

I didn’t know what to do. Her arms were wrapped around her baby. For a microsecond, I glanced into her soft, moist and most beautiful eyes. That is all I could handle. I hastily but gently placed the dollars between her stubs and her baby and left the church with Jesus in my body. I am not sure Jesus had penetrated my heart and soul totally…until today, 31 years later.

I gave my money. She gave her hands.

As I left the church, I shook off my shock. A white man from France came up to me and started speaking with me. My 9th grade year of French was somewhat helpful. He worked there and showed me around the city including a slum. Since I didn’t know the language very well, nor did I really know my way back to the port, I went along with him. In the slum, we came across his Muslim friends that had the only home that wasn’t put together with tin. It was extremely poor, but quite impressive in the midst of such poverty. The family wanted to share their meal with me. It was a bit of meat and some pineapple.

What a dilemma. I had gotten so sick in Cape Town, South Africa the previous year after eating with a middle class family. It was two weeks of torture as we rounded the Horn of Africa.

Now, this family in Doula was so genuinely thrilled that this American young man had come to visit them that I couldn’t refuse. The meal was delicious and the moments of silence were sheer ecstasy. After the dinner and goodbyes, we left the slum and my French friend brought me to his car as he signaled that he could take me back to the ship. What a relief!

On the way back to the ship, we drove by the area near the church and I saw the woman clutching her baby again walking in the street. For a brief moment our eyes met and I could see joy radiating from her heart and soul. I just know that Jesus and Mother Mary smiled at me. I know in my heart that I had just taken a glimpse of heaven.

That evening on the ship, our boat slipped out of the harbor and was heading home via Mexico. I was so sick for the next three days that I thought I was going to die. It was worse than my catharsis last fall…much worse.

Even though my body rejected that piece of meat and pineapple, it still continues to nurture my heart and soul. Let us be stewards of our food and those who prepare it for us.

Love, joy, peace…and good eating!

Father Ron Moses +

www.tearinthedesert.com

P.S. Financial donations for this Mission Honduras would be very helpful in order to buy medicines and vitamins for the Poor of Honduras. Here is the information:

Our mission sponsors are Friends of the Missions, Inc. (501 (c) 3 -Not For Profit Group) and SJCC and many of your costs are tax deductible.You do not need to be a medical professional or be able to speak Spanish. About 1/3 of our team are Helpers and 2/3 do not speak Spanish.

2011 YORO MEDICAL MISSION DATES CONFIRMED!

Would you like to join our next medical mission? God may be calling you to a wonderful blessing in helping the poor people of Honduras receive better health care! We need doctors of all kinds, nurses, pharmacists, P.A.s, EMTs and Helpers. We are looking for 30 volunteers. You could be on our team! Praise God!!!

We will work in poor villages with our day clinics and perhaps, with enough surgeons, we will have a surgical mission working at the Yoro City Hospital at the same time. Please pray for the poor children who need medicine!

Please keep our parish medical mission team in your prayers! We depend upon your time, talent and treasures for our medical missions to be a success in helping our poor brothers and sisters in Honduras!

We will depart February 13th and return February 20th. The cost will be about $1,200. per volunteer and includes: r/t airfare, ground transportation, hotel and team fees.

Contact Parishioner, Greg Hemsoth: ghemsoth@comcast.net or 904.262.0002, Ext. 3. (This Scripture is the basis of our mission: Isaiah 6:8.)

Tu hermano en Cristo,

Greg (Isaiah 6:8)

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