November 19, 2004

Recently on a Sunday afternoon we took a drive out of the valley of Comayagua up into the mountains on the other side of the neighboring town of La Paz. Up, up we drove, making a wrong turn or two on the unmarked and unpaved mountain roads, and picking up and dropping off a few passengers along the way, trying to make our way along in segments by asking directions. Finally we reached our destination: an abandoned outpost of the US military base below, complete with a helicopter landing pad, dating from the years of US support of the Nicaraguan Contras, perched on one of the highest peaks surrounding the valley. The view was spectacular and panoramic, open to vistas of plains and foothills almost all the way around; and despite the presence of a large Hondutel antenna transmitting perhaps hundreds of unheard telephone conversations, it was completely silent.

And right there on this little plateau on top of the world was a small Honduran mountain family, living in one of the abandoned barracks and acting as caretakers for the property. The father had recently been injured by a log falling onto his back and had to spend a month in the hospital. The mother had small, gold stars imbedded in her front four teeth. A teenage daughter was dressed a bit beyond her years, and the youngest son had just made his First Communion. They were real mountain people: typically taciturn yet unconcealably curious; wanting to know about us but too shy to ask questions. What is life like for this little Honduran family that lives in silence on top of the world?

It’s something to think about as we ride the subway, walk down the street, drive on the freeway, fly over cities. We’re surrounded by countless bubbles of mystery, created in the image of God, redeemed by the blood of Christ, destined for eternal life. It’s so easy to reduce others to simple formulas, to treat them like psychological mannequins, forgetting the fact that each person is a “mini-universe” of consciousness, feelings, experiences and memories. What is life like for them?

Fr. Herald J. Brock, CFR
Local Servant, Convento San Serafin, Comayagua, Honduras
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