Musings While Waiting In Line

Latin America is well-known for the warmth of its people, their constant readiness to celebrate,  It is not well-known for the dependability of its technology. This, as with my brother priests yesterday, I find myself with ample time to write as I wait to have my priest credentials, which will permit me to concelebrate mass with the Holy Father on sunday, corrected. The system says I am a priest. The name badge says I am a deacon.  I need it to say I am a priest. And the system is down. So, we wait until it is working again. What fun. 

Catechesis was hosted at a parish only a couple of blocks from our parish today. This allowed a bit more sleep in the morning, rising at 6:30 instead of 5:30. The teaching was provided by a bishop of Alaska ( I was in the confessional, and I missed his name). His message was that of hope, and our hope in Christ, as the pilgrims recount it. He was joined at mass by a dozen or so priests and a handful of other bishops. 

From Mass we caught a much less crowded bus to a functioning but bursting at the seams full metro, followed by a walk to the Cathedral of St. Sebastian, an architecturally . . . curious? . . . structure, but massive within. I'm now sitting In its basement with internationally pungent priests awaiting my turn to get everything in order. 

Tonight we attend a gathering for American pilgrims hosted by the US Bishops' Conference.  There is a chance for Taize prayer this afternoon if I escape this hotbox in time. The pilgrims, for their part, are wandering around the heart of the city. We will meet them in an hour or so. They should be sufficiently wet by then. The rain continues today. 

But, as our Lord said, he hasn't even a place to rest his head.  What is a pilgrimage without some minor misery. That's not really the right word. Inconvenience? Discomfort?  It is all part and parcel of this experience. I am now nearly to the front of the line. Until later...