Who is a missionary disciple?

Who is a missionary disciple? Lessons I learned from missionary disciples in the Amazonia

As I concluded my time at the Vicariate Apostolico de San Jose de Amazonas, I had the joyful opportunity to gather with other Vicariate missionaries for a time of prayer, fellowship, and workshops. At the invitation of Bishop Jose Javier Travieso Martin C.M.F and his vicar general Fr. Cesar Luis, nearly 60 missionaries gathered for a 4-day gathering at the heart of the Amazon. The witness of these missionaries from different parts of the world, who have significantly impacted the Amazon, will stay in my heart.  To give a context, there are only 15 priests in the diocese, most of whom are missionaries from abroad. (They have two transitional deacons in formation and one seminarian for the diocese). There are around 25 religious sisters and around 20 lay missionaries. These missionaries of all different ages have spent years working in the Amazon to bring the joy of the gospel to others. From my experience with them and my time in the Apostolic Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas, I wanted to share what I learned about who a missionary disciple is.^[1]

A missionary disciple is one chosen by God not for something but for someone.^[2]

It was abundantly clear from my interactions with the missionaries that they did not choose or decide to come to the Amazonia to be missionaries. Instead, they knew God chose them, took the first step to find, love them, and invite them to the Amazonia region. Their humility in accepting God's call was evident in numerous stories of missionaries searching for meaning and purpose through various initiatives but ultimately finding their fulfillment in Christ. Paraphrasing one of the missionaries who told me, “Christianity is not my search for God but God’s search for me.”  

              

It was also very evident that their identity and mission were not necessarily for something but for someone. The missionaries in the Amazonia did not see what they did in their different mission sites as some work they did. So many of them are involved in various inspirational pastoral initiatives like working for the rights of Indigenous people, fighting against childhood and sexual abuse, preserving the Amazon forest, working in the Ministry of Health, and numerous others. But in all this, they do not see their “work” as something they do; rather, it’s what naturally comes out as being set apart for someone – Christ. It is their love for Christ that animates them to bring the Joy of the Gospel to others, which has many different forms and shapes. Their work is not just a task but a transformative force that brings the Joy of the Gospel to others.

A life of self-gift^[3]

The famous John Paul II thought, echoed in the 2nd Vatican Council document, Gaudium et Spes,” Man cannot find himself except through a sincere gift of himself to others,” was palpable in the life of the missionaries. I met many missionaries who have spent 30+ years in the Amazon, giving their lives entirely to Christ and his people without expecting anything in return. Quietly, these missionaries lived among the people in harsh conditions, without electricity and with no access to a wide range of foods, but they lived among the people as the people. Their resilience in these conditions is truly admirable. I recall fondly talking to one religious sister who has been in the Amazonia for over 30 years and how she felt after 30 years when she shared, “I don’t think I have changed anything here, but my time here has changed me, allowing me to grow closer to the love of Christ!” This is who a missionary disciple is: one who makes a gift of his/her life and thus finds who he/she is.

It’s not an option but an integral part of the Christian identity^[4] ­

The Amazonia missionaries saw their calling to missionary discipleship not as an option but as an integral part of who they were. They had no other option than to respond to their call. I met numerous people who started in Amazonia with a couple of years of commitment but then realized this is where they are meant to be and have been there for 10+ years. This commitment does not come out of a bold show of fortitude but instead comes from a conviction placed in the heart of the missionary disciple that he is one called by Christ to live out the joy of the gospel in a particular way.

Filled with joy and gratitude^[5]

In listening to the sharing of some missionaries who have been there for so many years, the joy they encountered in being with the people of Amazonia, the joy of being together as one body of Christ was evident. Our gathering was filled with laughter, music, and dance. Various individuals shared beautiful stories of how joyful and grateful they were for being with the people of Amazonia. There was never a moment of moaning about the situation they were in. Instead, it was stories of how much each individual's heart was moved, how much they learned, and how much they received. It was never about them but always about the other.

Enlivened by the Holy Spirit^[6]

A missionary disciple is one who, in each moment, comes in front of the Lord and asks the Lord – what am I called to do? This is one realization I had during my time at Amazon. It's not about what I want to do, but instead, I come in front of the Lord with all my desires, challenges, hopes, and dreams and ask God, what am I called to do? Through the workings of the Holy Spirit in my heart, I then move forward to begin my journey, constantly coming back to God and moving forward with the Holy Spirit. This is also the adventure of missionary discipleship, the adventure of not knowing what's in front of you but trusting in what God has in store for you. The missionaries of the Amazon are ones who, every day in their lives, come before the Lord with all that’s in their heart and ask the Holy Spirit to lead them. This animation by the Holy Spirit allows the Church to flourish in the Amazon, to bring about creativity amid the challenges they live in, and to share the joy of the gospel in the most beautiful ways.

In my time in the Apostolic Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas in Santa Clotilde and other places I visited, the people I was with and the missionaries I encountered all showed me the heart of Christ, the joy of the gospel, and what it means to live out a life of missionary discipleship.

^[1] Before I had gone to the Apostolic Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas, Fr. Isaia Birollo CS (a Scalabrini priest and former superior general of the Missionaries of St. Charles Borromeo) suggested reading the “Aparecida document” to understand better the church in Latin America and the Amazon. The 5^th General Conference of Bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean, which took place in Aparecida, Brazil, was opened by Pope Benedict XVI. The final document was published by Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio (Pope Francis) as Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires and Cardinal Manuel Fernandez, Archbishop of La Plata (Now Prefect for the Doctrine of the Dicastery of Faith). One can see the inspiration for the landmark Apostolic exhortation, the Joy of the Gospel, Evangelii Gaudium, in the “Aparecida” document. https://www.celam.org/aparecida/Ingles.pdf

 

^[2] Aparecida Document, Chapter 4, the vocation of missionary disciple to holiness.

^[3] Aparecida Document, Chapter 4, the vocation of missionary disciple to holiness.

^[4] Ibid    

^[5] ibid

^[6] ibid

Transforming fear into responsibility through grace.

One of the privileges of being here at the hospital in Santa Clotilde in the Apostolic Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas is to be the on-call physician for the hospital. Typically, this involves a 24-hour shift where you are responsible for hospitalized patients and those coming to the emergency room. Due to the unique location and the physicians available, the on-call physician deals with whatever comes his/her way. Whether that’s responding to children who are ill, pregnancies and labor, or trauma- the on-call physician is the one responsible. (Obviously, other physicians are here to ask around and are always willing to help.) Some of these things are beyond my specialty or capability as an internal medicine physician. As such, being on call can also be a terrifying experience – of not knowing what will come your way. But is fear the appropriate response in these situations? How are we, as missionary disciples, called to respond in situations that feel as if they are beyond our ability? How are we to respond when it seems like the only response we have is anxiety and fear? I recall the story of Br. Ghislain of Taizé, a physician himself, who began creating art out of anxiety while working the night shift as a junior doctor. I can relate to this anxiety. Br. Ghislain had a beautiful way of transforming that place of anxiety into creativity. But it’s also easy for us to let anxiety turn into fear. It can happen quickly and really cripple you.

I have had numerous experiences this past month of being called out of my “comfort zone. “Internal medicine is not a procedure-heavy specialty. It can be, but it's not why I love this specialty. At the same time, here in Santa Clotilde, you must respond to what you are called to. During this past week, I had the privilege to attend to a significant wound on a person's hand due to an accidental machete-related injury. (Machetes are common here in the Amazon as they are used to cut trees and do daily work in their fields.) As another physician and myself, along with a few nurses and a religious sister, started attending to the wounds, I could see blood pouring out everywhere. The man was crying in pain. I could see the anatomy of the bones and muscles of his hand. I started thinking to myself, I don’t want to be here in this situation. I don’t even like to be here in this situation. Anxiety began to hit me. I even started making excuses like well, there are enough people around, this situation doesn’t really need me, or what difference can I make in this situation? As more blood started squirting out from his hand, I remember (for some reason) looking straight into the man’s hand and hearing just be here; I am with you. I probably didn’t like this whole situation, and it was not something I enjoyed, but slowly, I could see things improving as we all worked together and did our part. We washed his wounds, cleaned them, stopped the bleeding, and sutured the wounds on his fingers. It took at least 2-3 hours.

In the story of Holy Family, we hear about how St. Joseph was concerned about Mary and was thinking of not traveling with her the following day. He was thinking about leaving her. Maybe it was fear that led him to that decision, or maybe it was questions like what am I going to do in this situation? Or Am I the one who needs to accompany this woman and child? But what transforms St. Joseph’s fear into the responsibility of caring and journeying with Mary the next day? It's definitely not St. Joseph who says to himself, “Well, I can do this, “but instead, it is God’s messenger who comes to him in this most dire situation to give him the guidance, strength, and courage to continue the journey and take responsibility of the situation. Maybe St. Joseph, before he slept, went to bed thinking about how he should face this dilemma. I don’t think he would have slept peacefully that night. Maybe his ability to confront the problem at night allowed God to speak to him in a dream. Yes, the fear of St. Joseph, the fear of a missionary disciple, was transformed into responsibility through a dream, through grace – a free gift given to St Joesph. Still, maybe it was St. Joseph’s ability to face what scared him most during that night, instead of running away, that allowed God to speak to him in a dream.

For myself, I often think about how I should take responsibility in a situation I am called into. I know God works through the virtue of fortitude we exercise. But there can also be times when we probably don’t even know how to respond, or we don’t know what the virtue of fortitude looks like in a situation. I don’t know why Christ asked me to stay in the situation (The situation I was in with the patient) or why He gave me the grace to be there, but what I do know is that it was His grace in that situation that transformed the fear I encountered into responsibility of doing my part and taking care of the person in front of me, even if I didn’t enjoy it or felt comfortable about it.

Often, grace comes in a gentle, tender voice, sometimes in a quiet dream. But what can allow us to encounter grace is our ability to stare directly at the problem or what we fear most. For me, it came by looking straight at blood squirting out (not because I wanted to; it just happened). It was at this moment that I could experience the grace that transformed the fear of being in that situation into taking responsibility for the situation, knowing that God was with me.

Later that week, I was able to care for this man’s wounds multiple times in the hospital. On Sunday, we invited the parish priest who brought Communion and administered the anointing of the sick. We gave him a rosary (made by a kind-hearted and generous friend of mine) to remind him of Mary’s accompaniment in his healing. Although he may have some debilitation regarding the movement of his fingers, I was overjoyed to see him being discharged from the hospital and going back home with his children. This is the mystery and the joy of missionary discipleship. This is the mystery of grace. I don’t know why I received grace in such a situation, but at the same time, grace transformed my fear into responsibility. Our response to the situation we are called in is not one in which we always have all the answers. At the same time, we are not called to be crippled by fear of the situation. The life of a missionary disciple is one in which he/she recognizes the need to be transformed by grace. And sometimes, we can allow ourselves to be conduits of grace by facing the very thing we are most afraid of, knowing that Christ is with us, and his grace overcomes all!

Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre – The privilege of being with the poor.

When I told one of my friends that I would be in Peru in one of the Vicariates of the Amazon this summer, I remember her sharing how, in places like these, the voice of the Lord is so clear. I can say that this is true here in Santa Clotilde in the Peruvian Amazon, as well as from my little experiences in the past on being on mission. The voice of the Lord is so clear here in prayer, in the people, in the Amazon River, and in the surrounding nature. I can look out and immediately recognize the Lord speaking to me here. I have thought about this - Why is the voice of the Lord so clear here? What is unique about these places? I recall thinking in the past it was probably my disposition in other places that made the Lord’s voice not so clear – meaning I thought it was something in my own disposition that made the Lord’s gentle voice so clear in some places and not so clear in others.

Parochia Nuestra Señora de Ascuncion

There are many things I have loved while being here, but the experience of Sunday Mass has been so beautiful. The parish here, Nuestra Senora de la Ascension, is literally a large rectangular shed. On Sundays here in Santa Clotilde, there is no electricity until the evening. So, the parish has solar power for Sunday Mass to run one speaker and two microphones. The choir microphone is shared with the lectors; the other is for the priest. There is no electricity for lights. The Franciscan order runs the parish. One of the experiences that stays with me during Sunday Mass is when right before the Our Father. The priest says, “Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre,” let us call upon Him and pray - leading to a chant of Our Father. And as we chant/sing Our Father, the chorus fills the church precisely as sons and daughters of the same Father.

Parochia Nuestra Señora de Ascuncion

This past Sunday, as the priest said, "Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre” I remember being moved to tears. For a while, I didn’t know why this overwhelming emotion was within me. Later, as I prayed about this experience, the Lord gently helped me unfold this experience. The experience of overwhelming emotion was me realizing how Christ holds the people of Santa Clotilde so close to his heart. These are His people – Christ knows their suffering and joys, sickness and hopes, dreams and tragedies, and in all of this, He is so close to them. In a way, the Church, through her preferential option for the poor, expresses this sentiment. I believe in my experience of Sunday Mass here; I was able to encounter this closeness and intimacy of Christ with those he holds closest to his heart. In me being with the people here, I encounter the same closeness of Christ with his people. Through this experience, I encounter Christ’s affection for His people and how he keeps these people so close to his heart. In me being present here with the people of Santa Clotilde, I have become one of those children whom he holds so close to his heart. This is the privilege of being with the people of Peruvian Amazon; this is the privilege of being with the poor; this is why the voice of God is so clear among the people here because these are the people whom he holds closest to His heart – Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre.

As Christians called to missionary discipleship, our closeness with the poor is integral to our identity. Our closeness with those considered least expresses Christ's closeness with those he considers so dear to him. In living this out, we also realize how close Christ holds each of us to his heart. This is the privilege we all experience when being with those considered least in society. In each of our encounters with the poor, the sick, the suffering, the elderly, and the forgotten, we each have been given this privilege to experience this unrelenting love of the Father for His children whom He holds so close to His heart and thus for each one of us as well. One way we can rekindle and be intentional about living out this privilege is through building a culture of encounter. Very early in his papacy, and numerous other times, Pope Francis has spoken about being builders of a culture of encounter.[1] Drawn from the very actions of Jesus, in the culture of encounter, we are intentional about who the person in front of us is. This intentionality is realized through our senses, actions, and words. In a culture of encounter, we do not just hear but listen; we do not just talk but speak; we do not just look but see, and through all this, we see, listen, and speak to the person as Christ. In a culture of encounter, I am aware of the privilege of who is in front of me, a person Christ holds so close to his heart, whether that’s the poor, the sick, the suffering, the elderly, the homeless, or those forgotten by society. For me, I know that in the patients I see, in the pastoral visits I make here, and in my daily encounters with the people I meet here, I can fall into the trap of making it a task to be accomplished. But in the culture of encounter – I look into the person's eyes, listen to not just his words but his heart, touch his hand, and ask his name. This allows me to realize the privilege of who I am with and recognize the love that Christ has for each person. In doing so, I realize how much Christ loves me as well. The culture of encounter allows me to see the person in front of me not as an object of a disease but as a subject of an illness. The culture of encounter helps me conceive the burden of the illness that the person is carrying, allowing me to be with them in their burden just as Christ would. However, this culture of encounter requires concrete gestures. Whether that be intentional actions of listening or empathy or any other gestures, these gestures every day allow us to be promoters and builders of a culture of encounter. These small acts of love everyday help the other person realize their inherent dignity and value, as well as ours – Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre.

I recently read about St. Francis of Assisi’s encounter with a leper right before his conversion, of how he moved toward him and touched his wounds instead of riding away on his horse from the leper. What happened when he moved towards the leper and touched his wounds? We don't know all the details of that experience, but we know shortly after St. Francis had his conversion. I believe at this moment, as St. Francis drew close to the leper, touched him, and embraced the person in front of him, St. Francis encountered Christ’s unrelenting love for the leper and, through that encounter, Christ's love for himself. The meeting of St. Francis with the leper is the transformation that happens in the culture of encounter, in moving towards the leper, in seeing him and touching him– Indifference is transformed into love. In the culture of encounter, we become aware of the person in front of us is, how close they are to Christ, and thus how close Christ holds each of us to his heart – Como Hijos y Hijas de Mismo Padre!




[1] Pope Francis, Morning Meditation, For a Culture of Encounter, Domus Sanctae Marthae, Vatican. Sept 13, 2016. https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/cotidie/2016/documents/papa-francesco-cotidie_20160913_for-a-culture-of-encounter.html

Pathways to Hope

Santa Clotilde is a town of around 4000- 5000 people. Located in the northern part of Peru, along the Rio Napo, Santa Clotilde falls within the jurisdiction of the Apostolic Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas. Within Peru, there are eight Apostolic Vicariates for the Amazon region*[1] One of the eight Vicariates in Peru is San Jose de Amazonas. (I hope this gives an idea of how vast the Amazon region is). The Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas has 21 mission sites/posts (www. Sanjosedelamazonas.org). One of the mission posts within the Vicariate/Diocese is Santa Clotilde. These 21 are established missions by the Catholic Church of the Vicariate here. Santa Clotilde is one such established mission post. The Amazon region's vastness, marvelousness, and beauty make it so unique. Along with this vastness and beauty comes its own challenges. Coming here made me understand the wisdom of the Church in having a Synod just for the Amazon region. The Church in the Amazon, just like the region, is extensive and beautiful, but its immensity presents its own pastoral and practical challenges. Reaching from one end of the Diocese/Vicariate of San Jose de Amazonas to another will probably take 4-5 days by boat. There is a hospital here in Santa Clotilde, but the next major hospital is 9 hours by boat one way. (You travel by boat everywhere in the Amazon.) Santa Clotilde is probably the only hospital in the other direction for the next 14 hours. Therefore, the patients you see here come from different parts of the region to seek attention.

This past week, I had the unique experience of encountering this. In my outpatient consultation, I had one older woman in her 60s who traveled one day by boat to be seen by a physician because she had been having chronic abdominal pain. Another lady, 70 years old and half blind, came with her family after walking for 2 hours because she had been having an intense rash on her back. When I asked them where they were from and heard that I had traveled a day to be here or walked two hours to be seen by a physician – I didn’t know what to say. Sometimes, you get stuck and run blank when you hear certain things. This was one such moment. As I tried to continue the conversation, I remember thinking of the different things we take for granted or the privilege of being where I am. It also made me think about how I respond in these situations. What is my calling or response to the person in front of me who has traveled a day or walked 2 hours to be seen by me? I know I don’t deserve this, but this is the situation I am in.

Recently, a kind and gentle-hearted friend reminded me of one of Br. Roger of Taizé’s last writing, “Pathways to Hope,” which is about how hope is – what is but is not yet. I remember praying about my encounters with these two patients and thinking, what was it like for their travel? What were her thoughts as she traveled for a day in a boat to be seen by a physician? What was the mother thinking about as she walked for 2 hours? Their journey, both physical and emotional, deserves our utmost respect. But why did they take all this effort? Is it just the physical suffering to be alleviated that made them travel all this way? I don’t know. But I think maybe something that allowed them to journey forward, to keep going, to take all this effort is hope. A hope that there is something more to my life than the physical suffering that I am going through, a hope that there is much more to life than a long-standing abdominal pain and an intense rash, a hope that I am longing to be healed, a hope of what is but is not yet. This is not a drive from within or sheer willpower. This is Hope, a theological virtue that God gives to us.

During my time here, the accompaniment of the Holy Family has been close to my heart. I was reminded how the journey to Bethlehem must have been filled with uncertainty. Questions like where would they rest in between? Or where they would finally find a place to stay? must have been running through the minds of Joseph and Mary. But what kept them going? The promise of an Angel and a dream allowed them to begin a journey, but what sustained their journey, the road which they traveled on, was a pathway to hope of what is but is not yet. I believe all of us, in a way, are led forward every day by this pathway to hope. It's not something we create; it's not something that can be willed. Hope is something that is given to us. If it was willed or made, I believe it would dry out or change, but this hope given to each human person cannot be taken away or removed. It can be evoked or dampened, but it cannot be taken away.

The journey of these two patients and the Holy Family made me realize the hope given to each of us, including myself. Each patient encounter can be a place where I can awaken hope in the person in front of me. Therefore, my response to these patients must be to acknowledge their hope- not just sympathize or feel bad for the person in front of me. The patient in front of me is here to be healed, not just here to receive my sympathies. Every encounter with a patient is an opportunity to evoke this hope given to them, that their bodies and souls are meant to be healed. As a physician, my actions, thoughts, words, and deeds play a crucial role in arousing this hope. How I respond to each patient in front of me makes a significant difference. With each encounter, through my chosen actions, I can empower the person in front of me to continue on their pathway to hope. Through their lives and witnesses, the two women I encountered opened a path to hope for me by helping me realize the hope given to us. In our calling as missionary disciples, choosing to bring the joy of the gospel every day to the people around us, we can ask ourselves how we can make each encounter a place to awaken the hope given to us.

*[1] The geographical region of the Amazon region includes Brazil, Bolivia, Colombia, Ecuador, Guyana, Peru, Surinam, Venezuela, and the territory of French Guyana. This eight vicariates of the Amazon in Peru do not include other geographical areas, but only those in Peru

The Fragrance of Christ

This past week, I had the opportunity to visit the house of one of our patients here in Santa Clotilde for home visits. The visits were inspired by the local sisters of St. Camilus and another vibrant missionary physician, Dr. Andrew Vincent, who wanted to see how we could best care for this one patient. The patient developed wounds and sores on her back after being bedridden. The patient, a teenage child, has been bedridden for many years after a fatal accident. Although she can talk, she needs complete assistance with everything else.

For the past week, the patient has been having home visits to change the wound dressings that have developed due to being bedridden. The first time I visited the house was in the afternoon. Usually, in Santa Clotilde, there is no electricity in the afternoons. So, as I walked into the dark house, along with Dr. Andrew, we were greeted by the mother. The house has just two rooms with a kitchen. A very humble home, to say the least. As we were led to the patient's room, I could barely see anything as the patient lay in a dark room on the bed. There was a window, but scarcely any light was coming through it. As we began to do the dressing changes with a couple of flashlights and trying to keep the environment sterile, all the smells started to hit me. The smell of the wounds, urine, feces, the smell of our sweat, all of it began to hit me. I could barely keep myself together to get through this. I said a prayer and kept going.

I remember the next day, Sunday, I was able to assist during Mass at the Parish as an altar server. The parish is pretty bare-bones in terms of what it has. One of the tasks of the altar server is to hold the microphone for the priest during the Eucharistic Prayer (as there is no mic stand). I love the sacraments and always love being close to the altar, so I was happy to help with this. As the priest elevated the host and said “Tomen y coman todos de él, porque esto es mi cuerpo, que será entregado por ustedes.”. I looked at the Eucharist and heard, “My body was in the house you visited yesterday.” These words, which I could hear as a whisper in my ear, moved my heart.

In Baptism, Confirmation, and Ordination, we receive the Chrism oils. The oils are intentional with their fragrance. The fragrance of the perfumed oil signifies the sweetness and the newness of the person that comes with encountering Christ in the Sacraments. The oil stays on your skin, unlike water. It doesn’t flow off; it sticks to your skin. The fragrance marks the person and signifies a distinctness or uniqueness. In the sacraments, the more we use our senses, the more we dwell on the fragrances, the more we draw closer to what is unseen through the fragrance. It is through the smell of the Chrism oil in the Sacraments that we see what the fragrance means, whether that be a new person in Christ, the gifts and sealing of the Holy Spirit, or the fragrance of the person being set apart for Christ undividedly. This is essentially the sacramental principle of St. John Henry Newman. The more we engage in the material world of what is seen, the more we can encounter the immaterial of things unseen.

As I walked into the house again on Sunday with Dr. Andrew (who is overjoyed to see this child daily), I walked, remembering what Christ spoke to me during Mass – This is my body. As a Catholic physician, you know this; it’s part of your calling. You know that Christ is present in every patient you see. But to believe this and encounter this every day in every patient is a grace. We walked into the room and began dressing changes. As the smells of urine and feces hit me, I remembered Christ again telling me – This is my body. To embrace the body of Christ in front of me is to embrace everything that comes with the body: the smells, the touch, the wounds, the dressings, and the sight of everything in front of me. As I embraced everything in front of me with the help of incredible grace and prayer, I could see how it was Christ in me who allowed me to take care of the patient in front of me. The fragrance I experience of the person in front of me is the fragrance of Christ himself, who himself aches to be cared for and loved. This was another beautiful revelation for me; it was not just that Christ himself was in front of me, but he longed to be loved by me. He desired that I love him and that I love him with my hands, my touch, and my senses. In doing so, Christ is overjoyed, and I experience the joy of encountering Christ. It is this longing for Christ to be loved that draws me to Christ in the sick and the suffering and the poor and the forgotten.

As I continue to be with this child, there are so many thoughts that come to mind, whether it be empathy for the child or the things I take for granted, like being able to move around by myself and not depend on others or even the place and house I live in. I don’t have an answer to why this patient and not me? Or why did God allow this to happen? But all I know is that as a Church, as a missionary disciple, we are called to love the life of the child in front of us. To love the child is to embrace the sight, smell, and touch of encountering the child in front of me.

The Adventure of Missionary Discipleship

As I prayed before going on Mission for two months to Santa Clotilde, Peru, in the Vicariato Apostolico de San Jose del Amazonas, the image of the Holy Family came to me. What did Joseph and Mary know about their journey to Bethlehem? Did they know what that would entail when they said Yes to the Lord? Did they know what their journey to Bethlehem would be like? I don’t know the answer to these questions. But there are some things we can learn from their journey for all of us striving to be missionary disciples. The Holy family's journey, first and foremost, begins with God calling them. God comes to seek out Joseph and Mary. Our call to missionary discipleship begins with this call from God, who seeks us out. We then respond to God, who has taken this initiative. However, responding to the call doesn’t necessarily mean that difficulties and challenges will disappear. The journey to Bethlehem, I am sure, was filled with challenges and problems. The Holy Family probably did not know what was ahead of them. Still, their trust in providence, in what the Lord has in store for them, allowed them to encounter God in their journey and ultimately allowed all humanity to encounter Christ. The courage of St. Joseph to lead, to silently follow the call of the Lord, and the humility and faithfulness of Mary to depend on God are lessons we can all learn in answering the call of the Lord. This image of the Holy Family and their journey can be an image of missionary discipleship. One aspect that I believe accompanies a life of missionary discipleship, which I experienced during my first week and travel here to Santa Clotilde, is the aspect of adventure that accompanies missionary discipleship.

During a recent homily to his newly ordained priests, Bishop Gerald Barbarito (Bishop of the Diocese of Palm Beach) beautifully described the joy, the purpose, and the value of the Mass for each of us as a Eucharistic adventure.^[1] The life of a missionary disciple can be likened to this Eucharistic Adventure. The journey of a missionary disciple commences with the call from Christ, and through their acceptance and response to this call, embark on a life of living the joy of the Gospel. They return to the Eucharist not only to be nourished and fulfilled but also to experience the intimate presence of Christ. Each day, the missionary disciple approaches the Eucharist not to seek validation for their plans but to discern the call of Christ—the adventure that awaits them.

I had mixed feelings as I began my journey to Santa Clotilde, Peru. On the one hand, Mission has been on my heart this past year. (I first encountered Christ during Mission in Haiti in 2015-2016.) But at the same time, I was also comfortable where I was at this moment of my life; there was purpose and a sense of direction, and I knew what I had to do next. Breaking from this comfort and going to Santa Clotilde became increasingly more difficult as the days grew closer. In a way, I felt I was forcing myself to go. It was then, in prayer, that the image of the Holy Family came to me. The challenge of the Holy Family as they journeyed and how the Holy Family was with me on my journey provided consolation. I was also reminded of the image of Angels and Saints, who walk ahead to prepare the way for me. All the anxieties and worries of what would happen if I didn’t know enough Spanish, that my medical knowledge was not there, or that I was doing this to make myself feel good started coming up before the trip. These worries were diminished with time before the Eucharist, where the Lord gently reminded me that He called me on this journey, just as he called the Holy Family, and that His providence was always present. A call to be with the Lord, the Holy Family, and trust in the intercession of the great Saints and Angels allowed me to move forward.  I was also reminded of the excitement and adventure that awaited me as I moved forward. Moving forward meant saying yes even when you don’t know what is coming next, what will happen, or how the journey will span. The yes of a missionary disciple is also a yes to an adventure.

The journey and adventure stand out during my trip to Santa Clotilde in the Vicariato Apostolico de San Jose del Amazonas and my first week here. The journey of around 18 hours to Iquitos, Peru, after which you take a 9-hour boat ride in the Amazon River to reach Santa Clotilde, was beautiful, exhilarating, and filled my heart. Being able to be here, to witness the life of amazing missionaries, religious and lay, foreign and local, who have given their life for the Church in the peripheries and, in some small way, be part of this is without a doubt a privilege that I cannot be thankful enough for. The Vicariate is named after St. Joseph, and the parish here at Santa Clotilde is Our Lady of Assumption. Both are reminders of the Holy Family's closeness with me and the people here. All this was not anything I could have planned for or even thought of, but this is what the Christian life allows us to experience: a life of adventure.

To be here as a physician, to be here as a seminarian, to be here as a Christian, and to be involved in the life of the people here is what the Christian adventure asks of me, and indeed is an adventure. Yes, there are doubts about my Spanish capabilities, medical knowledge, and pastoral sensitivity, and it can be overwhelming about how much there is to learn. This is also the beauty of the Christian adventure. In this adventure, challenges are transformed into moments of grace, where we encounter the Risen Lord in our daily challenges, who walks with us along with the angels and saints. Just as Joseph and Mary showed us, holding on to Jesus as close as possible is all we are called to. The rest of the things fall into place and are part of the adventure. The adventure is for each of us to experience. What the world has to offer of making your plans for every life decision is so dull and boring compared to what the Lord has in store for us. The life of a missionary disciple is genuinely one of adventure, filled with joy and purpose. A life where one comes before the Lord and responds to His calling is there for each of us, no matter where we are living, no matter what age we are, no matter what profession we are in, no matter what state of life we are in. The adventure of life to follow Christ, the adventure of missionary discipleship, is waiting for each of us….

^[1] https://www.thefloridacatholic.org/dioceses/palm-beach/the-eucharist-is-the-purpose-of-your-priesthood/article_511de256-0e13-11ef-90c7-ef0085baee3e.html