~ by Fr. Fernando Álvarez Lara, SJ

Years ago before my great grandfather Don José Sauceda-Castillo passed away, we had a last talk regarding my desires to migrate “back” to the United States. After a long pause, he said to me, “ah, la sangre de tus ancestros te llama.” And he proceeded to tell me the story behind the entire family deciding to leave the US when the border moved further south. I asked him what he thought about what I was about to do. Don José proceeded to explain to me how is it that we get our identity from knowing our roots, and that by going back “al otro lado”, I would find myself.

Long before ordinations took place this past June 6th, I decided for many reasons to come back to the town that saw me off to when I left for the North. For one thing, my grandparents, Toño and Soco, are non-ambulatory and I wanted to celebrate my first Mass of Thanksgiving with them and all the relatives who could not travel to Spokane. But looking back, I realize that my blood calls me equally to both sides of the border. Not one or the other, but both.

For the Álvarez clan in Mexico, I celebrated a Mass at the Chapel of St. Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of the ex-hacienda of La Enramada, Chihuahua. My great-grandparents Álvarez lived there until the great depression pushed them out to the town of Camargo, where I grew up. What remains of this dusty little ranch brought good memories to all those who attended.

Very aware of the recent events affecting Mexico lately, for a moment, I entertained canceling that part of my victory tour for the sake of safety. But the gentle voice of Jesus thorough the people I know and love invited me to fear not, and to go across to the other side. Then once I got there, I wondered if the people on the Mexican side of the border would be in the mood to celebrate given their painful and desolate context. Prior to the world-wide recession, the drug cartel wars and the escalation of violence continue to rule with fear and uncertainty the lives of many. Then the threat of the H1N1 virus continues to haunt the entire country. I was reminded along the way that all that was required of me was to show up. And so I did.

And we celebrated Eucharist. For two and a half hours we encountered Christ face to face. Just like the episode of disciples on the boat, we managed to wake up Christ in our midst and for a precious moment he calmed the storm. My fellow Chihuahuenses experienced hope in the midst of terror. For a split second they realized that not all of what happens in their midst is bad news. One 103 year old doña, Florencia from the Enramada, asked me why I had decided to come down to her God-forsaken town to celebrate my first Mass, risking it all. I understood the question as, “Why are you jumping on our boat when we appear to be sinking!” All I could say to her was that my roots, my people, and my blood had a claim on my soul and I could not resist showing up to share my joy and my hope. After quieting her tears, doña Florencia assured me: “You are one of us”. “And by coming all the way here I believe that indeed God has not abandoned our ship.”