Maryknoll Lay Missioners

The entrance to the prison I visit in Franco da Rocha

A few moments from recent prison visits:

On Holy Thursday, I was passing through the outside gate of the provisional prison at Belém with Sr. Catherine and Edina when we stopped to greet an elderly man seated near the gate.  He was blind.  He told us he was being released — he was just waiting for his wife to pick him up.  He wept as we congratulated him on his release and said, “It’s a beautiful thing, it’s a wonderful thing.”   Sr. Catherine knew him from previous visits and questioned him about his sight.  He had not entered the prison blind.  It turns out that during his incarceration, he developed glaucoma.  Visits to the eye doctor were delayed.  And delayed.  And as a result, a treatable condition had resulted in permanent blindness.  This man’s joy at his release, just in time for Easter, lifted me up — but at the same time I could not help but be deeply bothered about the avoidable loss of his sight.  Surely his original sentence had not included being blinded.

Last week, at the penitentiary at Franco da Rocha, my colleague explained to the men in each cell block and workshop that she wouldn’t visit for several weeks because she would be taking care of a gravely ill family member.  Her worry and concern for her relative was clear.  For the men, her absence will be hard — she researches their legal processes for them and helps them with many things that I cannot.  Whenever I enter a cell block without her, they ask when she’s coming — and when/if she arrives, they surround her, everyone wanting their request to be heard (and when she doesn’t come, their disappointment is palpable).  But last Friday, they surrounded her for a different reason — to offer support.  In each instance, several men spoke up to assure her they would be praying for her and her family.  They told her not to worry about their concerns.  And when other men arrived late to our gathering, the prisoners who were there earlier explained the situation and said, “we just need to be patient now and pray for her.”

Another day as our team was leaving Franco da Rocha, one of the guards spoke to us, mentioning a horrific murder that had been in the news lately.  He finished his thoughts by saying gruffly, “And you want to come in here and visit these men, and help them?”  For me, his question brings up all of our human desires for vengeance, for wrong-doers to be punished, to be locked up and the key thrown away.  Natural desires, perhaps, which make those who have been found guilty of crime into the “other,” the “not-me.”

My exposure to the prison system here has led me to reflect more about the efficacy of our justice systems, both here in Brazil and in the United States.  I have much to learn, but here I do not see these men getting much support for changing the behavior which landed them in prison in the first place.  Without this support, upon release we often have someone committing more crime, and then we have more victims of crime.  The men I meet in prison have made poor and often violent choices.  Some have assaulted others, or murdered them.  Some are involved in drug trafficking.  Some of them, if I met them outside the prison, might be a danger to me.  Others would not.  I have no way of knowing, and it is not my place to judge.

I understand my role with the Pastoral Carcerária as working to make the prisons here in Brazil more humane.  To work so that a sentence of 5, 10, 20 years does not also include blindness.  To help the men maintain contact with their families so that they do have some support when they get out — so that they don’t feel abandoned, or hopeless, or that it doesn’t matter to anyone if they commit another crime, harm another person.  So yes, I do want to go and visit these men — I see their humanity, with its grace and its flaws, and can only feel privileged to listen and walk with them just a little way.

When a Maryknoller finishes language school in their placement country, the next task is to find a ministry.  The experienced missioners in country help out — setting up meetings, coming up with ideas — but the new missioner can also find their own contacts.  I had let the Maryknoll Brazil group know that I was interested in pastoral ministry, and that I liked the idea of a parish setting as well as prison ministry.  It was through one of our Maryknoll sisters that I become connected with Sta. Terezinha.

1st planning meeting - somehow I don't look as stressed as I felt!

When I first got involved with the parish a few months ago, I realized that the pastor was announcing to the parish that I was starting a program to train catechists.  This caused me no small amount of panic because a) despite over a decade of ministry in the church, I don’t have any experience with parish catechesis (I was never even a CCD teacher), b) I have no experience training catechists and don’t know anything about teaching children, and c) my Portuguese needs quite a bit of work!  I expressed my concerns to the pastor, and he said, “Don’t worry, you have all month to learn Portuguese!”  Great.  My sympathy for Moses and Jeremiah — when they protested to God that they didn’t have the skills or experience to do what he asked — increased greatly.

Our first planning meeting with the catechists felt to me like a disaster!  There were about 15 people there, all talking very fast and all at the same time, and all complaining about the state of catechesis in the parish (lack of resources and unsupportive parents, and who knows what else I missed because of the language!).  And the pastor announced that I would begin the course for catechists the next week.  Ack!  Fortunately, it’s only gotten better since then.  I formed a leadership team with a group of experienced catechists and they’ve been a great source of ideas and advice.

Catechists' Formation Program

An initial group of about 20 has now stabilized at around 12 people, and I’ve been surprised at how much I’m enjoying myself. I’ve picked up a few popular education techniques from colleagues and am using various dynamics and group work rather than just lecturing.  I’m getting good feedback — the catechists (to-be) say that they enjoy the course and the more dynamic way of learning.  And when I said at the last meeting that we don’t have an encontro next week, there were some real expressions of disappointment in the room!  What a relief.  I’ve still got a ways to go and lots to learn, but now I’m looking forward to it rather than dreading it.  Graças a Deus!

Neighborhood in Brasilândia

The other night, a friend in the States asked me, “So when you say you’re living on the periphery, what does that mean?” It’s a good question — the “periphery” of São Paulo actually refers to a rather large area which makes up the perimeter of the city. It’s the neighborhoods at the extremes of the city — but still part of the city proper. About three months ago I moved to Brasilândia, which is situated on the hills that lie to the north of the center.

The periphery also carries connotations of being “peripheral” – inconsequential, marginal, not central. According to Brazilians I’ve spoken with, there exists among some Paulistanos (people from São Paulo) this attitude toward the periphery — that the people who live here are not important, that there is no cultural life. The metro does not reach most areas of the periphery. Poverty is widespread, and there are many favelas (favelas also exist in pockets in many areas of the city).

The streets here are narrow, and the buses wind through roads full of traffic and people. To get here from the center of the city, I take a bus from the end of the metro red line (Barra Funda). The bus takes 45 minutes if traffic isn’t heavy.

Several people I’ve met here have asked me, “What brought you to this ugly place?” And in truth, Brasilândia is not pretty. There is trash in the streets, graffiti on the buildings, drug traffickers hanging around on the corners, and concrete everywhere.

Nevertheless, I’m beginning to discover some of the beauty of this place. First of all, of course, there are the people who have been so welcoming. Today, I was wandering around lost, looking for one of our parish communities, and a little old lady called out my name. I didn’t recognize her, but she knew me from the parish and greeted me with a kiss. She wondered where I was going and if I was lost — and then walked me to where I needed to go. I should add that this is the third or fourth time this has happened and it’s always a different little old lady!

The kids who play in the street where I live love to greet me in English — “Hellooooo” and ask me to say their names in English (but many times there is no equivalent). I showed some of them a photo of “Harry Potter Day” at my niece and nephews’ school. Ever since, they’ve been telling the other kids that my niece and nephews actually attend Hogwarts. Woops.

There are many dogs living in the street, and Pretinha is one of them. The neighbors care for her, though. One makes sure she gets her shots, others feed her, and my housemate and I allow her to sleep on our porch when she wants! She’s the most spoiled street dog I’ve ever met.

So that’s a little slice of life on the periphery. Até mais!