Bishop Robert J. Banks

Lent in the missionary desert

What are you doing for Lent this year? It is not too late to start.

As part of my Lent, I decided to visit Fr. Michael Seis and our mission parish which he pastors in the Dominican Republic. To quote him, " It is the poorest parish in the poorest province of the country."

This Lenten experience began with my secretary nagging me into a visit to the travel nurse at Bellin. The nurse sadly but graciously informed me that it was too late to take any protection against hepatitis and typhoid. It was also too late for malaria, but that was so dangerous, I should start the medicine anyway. She was pleased to hear that I would have mosquito netting at night.

Two days later I set off for Santo Domingo and was met at the airport by my host, Fr. Seis. He escorted me to our missionaries' favorite hotel, one that will never make it into the AAA guidebook.

The next day, Saturday, we made the four-hour drive to our parish in Elias Pina where we concelebrated in the parish church and then in a frail lean-to chapel in the countryside or campo. Then it was back to the rectory for Fr. Seis' standard supper of popcorn and iced tea. As we chatted before retiring, I found out that there was no mosquito netting. But Padre Miguel, as they call Fr. Seis down there, assured me that there were no mosquitoes in the dry season. But he said he would put a fan in my bedroom and that would chase the mosquitoes away, if there were any. (I shall have to inform the Bellin nurse of this anti-malaria fan!)

He also showed me the shower that I could use the next morning. A special kind of showerhead had been installed that would heat the water. It was attached, however, to a frightening maze of bare electric wires in the shower stall. Padre Miguel warned me that it would be a shocking mistake to try to turn on that showerhead.

Padre Miguel also told me before I turned in that in preparation for my coming he had killed the last of the rats that occasionally dropped down from the ceiling. He did say, however, "If you wake up with some furry thing next to your cheek, it won't be the dog." Cheered by that thought, I headed off to bed.

On Sunday we had one Mass at the church and four more at different chapels in the countryside or campos. (Almost every one of the chapels has been built with contributions from the people of Green Bay, either through the Bishop's Appeal or by direct gifts.) Each of the Masses meant a slow drive over less than smooth dirt roads.

In between Masses, Padre Miguel took me to visit an elderly woman who had had a stroke and for whom he was building a new home. (Cost: $900) The old home was a hut made of sticks and wood with a thatched roof and dirt floor. It had two rooms. The first, where she barely had room to sit in her wheel chair, measured about 4'x 8'. It was the entry, living room, kitchen, and dining room. The other room was the bedroom for four people and it measured about 8'x 10.' Everything in the house, other than the wheel chair, looked like it had been through at least three rummage sales. And, of course, there was no bathroom.

The new house will also have a dirt floor and be only slightly bigger, but the walls will be of cement and the roof of zinc or galvanized metal.

I hate to confess that, after I saw that house, the normal houses of the people living in the campos began to seem pretty good, even though none was bigger than one of our single car garages or had a bathroom or even running water.

On Monday, the feast of St. Joseph, we went to a neighboring parish to concelebrate with Bp. Jose Grullon, the bishop of the area. I would say he is the hardest working bishop I know. He has visited every tiny community in his widespread diocese on foot, horseback and 4-wheel drive. When the hurricane devastated the area two years ago, the American military turned to him to find their way to the communities that needed help.

It was interesting to hear him talk in his homily not only of the faithfulness of St. Joseph, but of the faithful care civil officials, some of whom were in the congregation, should give to their people. He also spoke of his petitioning the President for a paved road to the area and asked the people's continued prayer for that great need. He is a good spokesperson for the basic needs of the people.

On Tuesday, Padre Miguel and I headed to the tiny community of Las Lagunas. That meant one-half hour driving up the side of a mountain on a dirt road, and the next half-hour driving down into the valley on a road worse than any you have ever seen on those TV ads for SUVs. What added spice to the ride was the 500-foot drop that hovered a few feet from the left side of the truck most of the time.

When we arrived, Padre Miguel let the people gathered there know that he was really upset about whoever was setting fires to clear the land on the mountainside. (The fires make it possible for the farmers to grow beans to eat, but kill the trees which were needed to save the land.) It was interesting to hear Padre Miguel then preach to the poor on that day's Gospel about forgiving seven times 70 times. He said it was necessary to forgive, and he would, but Jesus also then gave directions about how to live more responsibly.

At every one of the dozen Masses we concelebrated, I asked the people what they thought about Padre Miguel. The spontaneous applause and sincere praise, especially from the most poor living in the most isolated areas, was touching.

The parish priest is also an important figure in the town and surrounding area. In the short time I was there, the governor of the province dropped in on business with the padre; the local representative to the country's Congress visited with some question; and the head of the public health service also had some business with him.

Padre Miguel also holds three important diocesan offices and obviously is a highly regarded friend and counselor of Bp. Grullon.

So it was a great visit, and we celebrated the last evening there with another supper of popcorn and iced tea.