Small World

One always finds someone one knows at World Youth Day. This was true even as we stepped off the bus in Rio. Fr. Tom Wilson, formerly Director of Vocations for the Archdiocese of St. Paul was right there on the sidewalk. I knew him when I was a seminarian in St. Paul. Likewise, we are sharing our parish with pilgrims from St. Thomas More Parish in Centennial,Colorado. This is the same parish that hosted us in Denver. The Catholic World is very  small.  

Rio!!

Aparecida is a truly enormous basilica, housing a small image of our Blessed Mother, who has accomplished profound miracles. As the story has it, fishermen discovered the small black statue in their empty nets as they struggled to catch fish.  A second cast of the nets recovered her missing head.  The took her home and repaired her.  Soon people began to attribute miraculous occurrences to her intercession. Pilgrims came. A larger space was needed, so she moved to the local church. Then a larger church was needed. Then a still larger church. Today it is the second largest Catholic Church in the world, and the second or third most visited Church in the world. We celebrated Mass in English there. Pictures follow at the end of the post. 

From Aparecida, we drove through the mountains to the coast and to Rio. Tensions were high as we once again endured the sorting ceremony. As per usual with World Youth Day, all was not in order upon our arrival.  I road herd on the pilgrims while Frs. Sparks and Christensen sorted all of that out. The neighborhood is quite safe, but it looks scary to any who have never visited a large city with ramshackle buildings, barbed wire wrapped walls, and graffitied walls. Luckily we are four or five to a house this time as opposed to just one or two. 

I am housed with Colin Kling, Logan Pochop, and Andrew Sullivan. This house is lovely, and we are hosted by a family of four. The veranda is almost an apartment unto itself. After a bus drive and a change of clothes, the breeze blowing through the house was a welcome relief. 

Having been fed again we are now getting our fix of American electronics. Bedtime is very soon.  We gather tomorrow at 6:30 am. I will have more for you tomorrow. 

On the Road

Amid tears the bus departed at nearly 7:30. Hugs and assurances to keep in touch were shared by all, and promises to greet the pope for the people of Sao Jose made the parting only slightly easier. We are now on our way to see Our Lady of Aparacida.  I'll write more about her later.  For now, here are some thoughts from the pilgrims. 

Jack McCloud: Our stay in San Jose was amazing beyond any realm of expectation that I started this journey with. It would nearly impossible to describe the hospitality of not only our host families, but the people of San Jose. Everyone is anxious to get to Rio, and start our WYD activities.

Joel Fundaun: Our trip began with an incredible stay in Sao Jose. Our host families and the families within the parish gave us the most gracious welcome. None of us wanted to part with our hosts, but we are very excited to go to the Basilica de Aparecida and then to Rio!

Lauran Feist : Just a quick thank you again mom and dad for letting me come on this trip! I am so appreciative to have this experience, and I am loving every chance I get to speak in Spanish! The people here are so giving and hospitable. They have really taken Christ's message to heart. The people just add to all the beauty here in Brazil! I love you all so much and cannot wait to tell you everything! 

Talia Wilson: Oh my goodness, I don't think I have the words to explain how amazing this trip has been! I left Rapid City with one family, but I will be coming back with 2!! My home stay family was so beautiful and having them welcome me into their home with open arms and hearts was such a humbling experience. Knowing I have such a strong support system truly helped me dive head first into everything this trip has to offer! I can't wait to se what The Lord has in store for me and our group! God Bless! Blessed John Paul II, Pray for us!!!

Ryder Carlson: All I can truly say honestly is thanks be to God! I've personally been blest to have such an awesome host family. My Brazilian family were so loving to Logan and me and received us with open arms. Today it was hard to have to leave from my new family members here in Brazil, but God is good and one day ( if not on this earth) we will meet again. God is good and he gave me a taste of heaven with this family, along experiences I won't forget. All glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit! 

More Pics From Sao Jose - Stolen From Other People

Samba!

The syncopated rhythm of the samba is ubiquitous as we move around Sao Jose dos Campos. With African and Caribbean influences, it has a jazzy quality, but it is more visceral, sensual, romantic. It contains none of the overt bawdiness of salsa music, or the eroticism of the tango. With its heavy emphasis on percussion, however, it does appeal to a primal instinct to dance to its rhythms - to sway, to twist, to move, and to do so in concert with another. 

Sleeping late into the morning I expected to miss breakfast and proceed quickly to the party. I was wrong. I ate heartily and discussed Brazilian Catholic celebrities at some length before engaging in the finer points of "Call of Duty" on the XBox with the thirteen year old son living in this home. Around two we made our way to a nearby house for a Brazilian barbecue. 

This city is large and industrial. As a result, most people live in towering apartment complexes. Few have houses with lawns and such. It was thus a privilege to be entertained at a real house today. The party was well underway when we arrived. Beef, chicken, and sausages were cooked over wood coals in an outdoor oven. Rice, bread, and a variety of fresh vegetables shared the table with them. I took a modest plate of food, and was roundly chastised for failing to take enough. I ate more. Then dessert began. Before we had finished, the other Americans and I had been subjected to at least six different desserts. God rest her soul, my grandmother used to insist that one should eat at least a little of every dish one is offered. I am not of a delicate constitution, but by the time the seventh and eighth desserts arrived, I could eat no more. I asked for a cup of coffee and was given something the color of the Mississippi River and the consistency of mud. To the horror of those present, I drank it without sugar. 

As I sipped my coffee, several men rehearsed music for Mass this evening, and Andrea, our translator from two nights ago, tried to force the girls to sing translations of the songs. One must practice, I suppose, but I quickly grew bored. Christian music so often feels forced and inorganic. It is almost as though the composers feel guilty about liking something other than Gregorian Chant, so they try to make restitution by singing about Jesus. As they finished a song, I asked them to sing something typically Brazilian. The men, with guitar and drum happily obliged, and played several sambas. Immediately a dance floor was cleared. The women danced. Men created makeshift percussion instruments - a glass bottle tapped with the blade of a knife, a beer can with rice inside, hands on the table. It was incredible, beautiful, full of life, good, wholesome, holy, and altogether Brazilian.

As I watched, I thought, "I wish my dad were here."  In my formative years on the ranch, this was how our community gathered as well. Women cooked and gossiped. The children played games with rules only they understood, and the men made music to accompany all of it. Food was plentiful, drink abundant, and neighborliness the air we breathed. This common life, this sharing of self, gave shape and definition to an otherwise nebulous concept of "community." 

In the same way, even though I am with people half a world away from my family, my parish, and my home, in moments such as these, I am reminded that I am a part of something bigger than myself. I am a member of a Church, and of Christ's body.  For this reason, I can be certain that when I rejoice, God's Holy People rejoice with me. When I mourn, they likewise mourn. No man, not even an introvert like me, is an island, no Catholic is ever alone. 

The community that is the Church finds her origin in our shared reception of the Holy Eucharist, which we will do later tonight. This unity, however, finds expression in a multitude of ways - a visit to a sick friend, a kind word to a stranger, a meal for a beggar, or a party for a pilgrim American.  In these we are much more than South Dakotan, or American, or Brazilian. In these things, we are Catholic. 

Hobbits?

I wonder if J.R.R. Tolkien's hobbits weren't based in part on the people of Brazil. After and enormous breakfast, my family sent me away with a lunch large enough to feed a small orphanage - two sandwiches, four pieces of chicken pie, two apples, a bowl of cashews and Brazil nuts, and more. I had first lunch around 1:00, second lunch around 3:00 and dinner when I arrived home at 6:00. This was followed by second dinner at 9:00. 

After first dinner, I sat on the couch and fell into a food induced stupor. I was roused some time later to move upstairs where a huge crew had gathered to eat homemade pizza from the wood-fired oven. Just as it seemed things were drawing tow close, the dessert pizza came out of the oven and ice cream appeared from somewhere. 

And now, I am inching my way toward dreamland. My family longs for the chance to wake up late tomorrow, and I do not intend to disappoint them. I will have more tomorrow after experiencing a Brazilian barbecue. I'm told it is like an American barbecue only inasmuch as there will be meat and beer. These alone are sufficiently promising of a good time. Until then...

A Few Pics From Today