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