I studied high school at the LaSalle Institute in Chihuahua, where the LaSallist Brothers (religious), organized a week of missions to some indigenous villages in the Sierra Tarahumara. It was three years of going to the town of Basaseachi, which changed the way I lived Holy Week. To get to participate, there was a lot of preparation on the part of the school, families, and us students.
One of the aspects that had the greatest impact on me was witnessing the obvious change that the presence of “the missionaries” had on the residents. And in many of us, students from families without critical economic problems, the change was also profound.
The student groups were led by some adults, who were with us all week. I remember that these groups were called fraternities, followed by the name of the village. Beforehand, it was agreed that we would stay at the facilities of the local school. At the beginning of the 90s, there were four classrooms and a basketball court. One room was set up as a kitchen, another for art and crafts, and two more for men’s and women’s dormitories.
Although there was a water tap, there was no drainage, so the boys rebuilt or made new latrines. When we were students for the first time, we wanted to maintain the same hygiene we were used to at home, but it was a huge challenge. Those of us who dared to wash our hair ended up with a tremendous headache because of the almost water freezing temperature.
During Holy Week, the priests were even busier than at other times, and the main reason for the fraternities to go to the indigenous communities was to offer the services of the Easter Triduum. There was also a group of doctors, parents of some of us students, who visited all the communities and provided free medical care.
We would arrive on Palm Sunday. From the time we arrived until Thursday, there were groups of students who visited houses door to door to invite the residents to the celebrations and recreational activities.
These visits required that we students had certain information about the Rarámuri culture. This orientation was given to us before arriving to the village.
As for many of us it was the first experience in a context so different from our own, it was essential that we knew some basic aspects.
Some points that were emphasized to us when visiting houses were:
-Always go in groups of two or three people, never alone.
-The group of missionaries must include a man.
-If we are invited and offered something to eat, eat what is offered to us.
This last point was one of the most emphasized to us. Although the residents were very poor, when they gave us something, they almost always gave us the only thing they had, sometimes even the last thing they had.
It was explained to us that when we rejected what was offered to us, it was considered an offense.
These communities were really poor, and they had so few resources. Still, they explained to us that for them, having a missionary eat what they offered was a great pleasure, even though what they offered could be almost, or the only thing they had to eat for those days.
In contrast, for us students, eating at their home was not something we anticipated, because it was not food we were used to. I don’t remember any house having a refrigerator, and the Raramuri did not waste or throw away food. They kept it until they finished it all.
This meant that sometimes what was offered to us, besides being unusual for us, could be very dry, salty, tasteless, spoiled, or combined with something that was perhaps spoiled.
It was necessary, out of respect for the culture, to consume it.
When we returned to the fraternity, it was our turn to share our adventures about what we had eaten. And others, frankly, complained.
The Raramuri gave us what they had, they gave us their food, their attention, and their silence. Most of them were very reserved with us Chabochi (mestizos). During the visits, there was not much conversation, they listened and paid attention, but they hardly responded.
The contrast in the lifestyle between the residents of the villages and the missionary students was big. And yet, the Raramuri gave us what they had, in its entirety, without reservations and without doubts.
What is it that God gives you?
When you give something, what is your interior posture?
There was a time in the city of Chihuahua, approximately also at the beginning of the 90s, when I remember that many Raramuri families went to the state capital to look for resources to support themselves.
Little by little, the corners of the main streets began to reflect the presence of these families. Usually what you saw were mothers, with at least three children under the age of ten.
While the cars waited their turn at the traffic light to move forward, the children approached the drivers’ windows with their hands outstretched, and said:
–Korima
Later someone explained to me that asking for “Kórima” was different from asking for alms. “Kórima” is more like, “share with me what God gives you, and I will share with you what God will give me.” The Rarámuri have a deep trust that God provides for everyone.
There is no exact word to translate the word “Kórima”, but rather it is the concept of sharing with those who have the least at that moment. Sharing with the purpose of helping.
There is a moment when Jesus presents himself as the bread of life. Jesus shares himself.
The invitation may be that each one of us also gives ourselves to others as the bread of life. Bread is shared, it is broken with… others, with your neighbor.
In your case, do you share yourself?
Has it ever happened to you that after spending some time with someone, you feel encouraged, with more energy?
Food gives life. What we share with each other can also give life. What we say to each other, the way we say it, the way we live together. All these aspects, can give life to others, as bread does.
Maybe we can start by looking into each other’s eyes when we talk to each other, acknowledging our presence before each other.
Would you like to offer life to someone else? How could you offer that life to someone else?
It is equally important to reflect on what we offer, and on what we allow to come to us.
Not all food is healthy. There is junk food, which fills, does not nourish and even causes harm.
For those young missionaries that we were in the 90’s, food will not have been anything like what we were used to. Yet, it gave us so much life. It was us who were given Kórima.
If the Spirit leads you, observe what you allow to receive, and what you offer. Do you receive life? Do you give life? Or… not?
According to what you receive and give, does God invite you to make a change?
Marisol
P.S. We can hear about how Jesus presents himself as the bread of life, in the readings of the XVII Sunday of Ordinary Time, year/cycle B.
