Those of you following Sandy’s blog (http://sojournerinbelize.blogspot.com/) will know that she has given you a lot more snaps and stories than I have so far. So I’m sure it’s my turn by now. Unfortunately, I dropped my camera on the concrete of the carport, and the lens is permanently out of focus now, so we will have to consider alternative measures for my pics.
Our welcome team beside the banana tree in the parish rectory in Corozal are Miss Linda, people's warden, council members Dorla and Gilda, and treasurer and lay minister Graham.
The fan is cooling the sweat off my brow as I sit in a pleasant little room just off our living/dining area that is serving as my office here. The locals are wondering about the unusually cool weather, and toques and warm caps are on sale for $5 in the stores as the overnight temperature dips below 70F for several nights in a row. I take home communion to one of the faithful after Sunday service, and he tells me from underneath three layers of clothing, “Father, I just couldn’t make it out today, it was so cold” .
After Bishop Philip installed me as priest-in-charge on Feb 7th, we had the parish’s annual meeting immediately after and elected the council. I have had my first round of introductions in the parish and have now taken my first Sunday service and am prepping for Ash Wednesday. David, the parish secretary, works long hours six days a week in the gas station, but he has given up his day off to drive me around town so that we can visit the elderly and the sick and talk and pray with them. He has no car himself, and our diocesan vehicle is still in repair, but he can borrow freely among friends and family. He comes in Saturday nights at 8 after finishing work to start typing and printing the bulletin for Sunday.
In meeting with council, we have decided upon service times and Lenten program. We will have Wednesday morning eucharist at the customary time of 6.30 am, plus a Friday evening program at 6.00 pm, with Stations of the Cross, bible study, discussion, and some educational programming. Sunday morning is to be 7.30 am, with a once a month family service at 9.30 am.
The elementary school attached to the parish has around 180 students, and Wednesday morning is the time I lead them in the weekly school services. The parish of St. Paul’s-by-the-sea has been here since 1882, and the school has also served the community for over a hundred years. I’m impressed with the students knowledge of Scripture and liturgy, and their hearty a cappella singing of hymns and choruses, often memorized rather than sung from a book.
Everywhere, I am “Father Andrew”, which is quite amusing to our James, who decided to call me “Father father” today. Since Corozal’s last priest was female, they got quite used to calling the priest “Rev” (rather than “mother”), so I’m also “Rev” to quite a few people.
I’m touched by the warmth of the welcome. It’s been well over a year since the community has had a priest, so the people report being discouraged by this, and as a corollary, more than delighted to see me and hopeful that we will decide to stay on longer.
Our series of adjustments and teething troubles with our vehicle, with water, showers, and taps in the house, and with the setup (and lack of speed) of the internet, dogs that bark half the night, and roosters that start at 2 am, are no significant deterrent to engaging in the work of ministry, even if they slow us down. I tell myself this is part of the package, and try to allow things to happen in their own time. Parishioners have really extended themselves to make the rectory ready after a long period of rental and a subsequently empty house needing repairs.
This morning I was tempted to cast myself as the hero who slew the dragon to enable us to get TJ to school. In fact I well may have killed the boa constrictor at the gate of the rectory, but it was by unknowingly driving over it rather than armed combat! Our handyman Marco tells us it would do us no harm at a length of 2 feet, and would have to be 15 feet (5m) before menacing us. He himself had two boas each 2 metres long, but in deference to his wife, let them loose (we did not ask where). I suppose our concern was more a revelation of our unawareness.
Corozal residents are proud that their town is a lot safer than Belize City, but at the same time, they exhibit the truth to the middle eastern proverb, “trust in God and tie up your camel”. I am laden with a larger key ring than I usually carry, with 18 keys to cover all the padlocks, exterior locks, interior locks, and general deterrents and precautions around the rectory and the church.
Our first Sunday had 180 people, since we have a family service, and all school students are expected to attend. Other Sundays of the month tend to be around 20-30, so I understand that having 37 for my first Sunday was more than expected.
I have to strain to pick up on the Belizean Kriol at times, but basic communication is sound. Spanish is everywhere around us, even if English is the official language. We also observe that the Chinese and Indian communities are very noticeable, and restaurants and corner stores are frequently operated by Asian families. After the big Valentine’s party the town held on Sunday night at the beach, we had Chinese new year celebrated with dragons and firecrackers on Monday up our street, and now it’s Mardi Gras. Apparently that is not nearly so popular as I was guessing.
One of the many touching moments for me was on Sunday afternoon ~ a visit to a small outpost for a 4.00 pm Eucharist in the carport of one of the parishioners. The small village of Libertad is about 20 minutes south of Corozal, and the congregation consists of essentially one large extended family. The grandchildren are dressed beautifully and delight to my guitar music as they participate. They all take turns to play with the pick, as I make the chord shapes to help them through “Give me oil in my lamp”, “This is the day” and “I have decided to follow Jesus”. So much of this has moments of nostalgia for me, reminding me of growing up in Britain in the 60s and 70s, where as a youngster I would visit outlying villages for Sunday afternoon services, and worship with people who looked like they had a very basic existence, yet could exude so much joy and beauty in the midst of what appears to us to be limitation and deprivation. Sometimes I shed a tear of joy and gratitude that I am privileged to share in this experience of being family-in-faith with these dear people.
The fan is cooling the sweat off my brow as I sit in a pleasant little room just off our living/dining area that is serving as my office here. The locals are wondering about the unusually cool weather, and toques and warm caps are on sale for $5 in the stores as the overnight temperature dips below 70F for several nights in a row. I take home communion to one of the faithful after Sunday service, and he tells me from underneath three layers of clothing, “Father, I just couldn’t make it out today, it was so cold” .
After Bishop Philip installed me as priest-in-charge on Feb 7th, we had the parish’s annual meeting immediately after and elected the council. I have had my first round of introductions in the parish and have now taken my first Sunday service and am prepping for Ash Wednesday. David, the parish secretary, works long hours six days a week in the gas station, but he has given up his day off to drive me around town so that we can visit the elderly and the sick and talk and pray with them. He has no car himself, and our diocesan vehicle is still in repair, but he can borrow freely among friends and family. He comes in Saturday nights at 8 after finishing work to start typing and printing the bulletin for Sunday.
In meeting with council, we have decided upon service times and Lenten program. We will have Wednesday morning eucharist at the customary time of 6.30 am, plus a Friday evening program at 6.00 pm, with Stations of the Cross, bible study, discussion, and some educational programming. Sunday morning is to be 7.30 am, with a once a month family service at 9.30 am.
The elementary school attached to the parish has around 180 students, and Wednesday morning is the time I lead them in the weekly school services. The parish of St. Paul’s-by-the-sea has been here since 1882, and the school has also served the community for over a hundred years. I’m impressed with the students knowledge of Scripture and liturgy, and their hearty a cappella singing of hymns and choruses, often memorized rather than sung from a book.
Everywhere, I am “Father Andrew”, which is quite amusing to our James, who decided to call me “Father father” today. Since Corozal’s last priest was female, they got quite used to calling the priest “Rev” (rather than “mother”), so I’m also “Rev” to quite a few people.
I’m touched by the warmth of the welcome. It’s been well over a year since the community has had a priest, so the people report being discouraged by this, and as a corollary, more than delighted to see me and hopeful that we will decide to stay on longer.
Our series of adjustments and teething troubles with our vehicle, with water, showers, and taps in the house, and with the setup (and lack of speed) of the internet, dogs that bark half the night, and roosters that start at 2 am, are no significant deterrent to engaging in the work of ministry, even if they slow us down. I tell myself this is part of the package, and try to allow things to happen in their own time. Parishioners have really extended themselves to make the rectory ready after a long period of rental and a subsequently empty house needing repairs.
This morning I was tempted to cast myself as the hero who slew the dragon to enable us to get TJ to school. In fact I well may have killed the boa constrictor at the gate of the rectory, but it was by unknowingly driving over it rather than armed combat! Our handyman Marco tells us it would do us no harm at a length of 2 feet, and would have to be 15 feet (5m) before menacing us. He himself had two boas each 2 metres long, but in deference to his wife, let them loose (we did not ask where). I suppose our concern was more a revelation of our unawareness.
Corozal residents are proud that their town is a lot safer than Belize City, but at the same time, they exhibit the truth to the middle eastern proverb, “trust in God and tie up your camel”. I am laden with a larger key ring than I usually carry, with 18 keys to cover all the padlocks, exterior locks, interior locks, and general deterrents and precautions around the rectory and the church.
Our first Sunday had 180 people, since we have a family service, and all school students are expected to attend. Other Sundays of the month tend to be around 20-30, so I understand that having 37 for my first Sunday was more than expected.
I have to strain to pick up on the Belizean Kriol at times, but basic communication is sound. Spanish is everywhere around us, even if English is the official language. We also observe that the Chinese and Indian communities are very noticeable, and restaurants and corner stores are frequently operated by Asian families. After the big Valentine’s party the town held on Sunday night at the beach, we had Chinese new year celebrated with dragons and firecrackers on Monday up our street, and now it’s Mardi Gras. Apparently that is not nearly so popular as I was guessing.
One of the many touching moments for me was on Sunday afternoon ~ a visit to a small outpost for a 4.00 pm Eucharist in the carport of one of the parishioners. The small village of Libertad is about 20 minutes south of Corozal, and the congregation consists of essentially one large extended family. The grandchildren are dressed beautifully and delight to my guitar music as they participate. They all take turns to play with the pick, as I make the chord shapes to help them through “Give me oil in my lamp”, “This is the day” and “I have decided to follow Jesus”. So much of this has moments of nostalgia for me, reminding me of growing up in Britain in the 60s and 70s, where as a youngster I would visit outlying villages for Sunday afternoon services, and worship with people who looked like they had a very basic existence, yet could exude so much joy and beauty in the midst of what appears to us to be limitation and deprivation. Sometimes I shed a tear of joy and gratitude that I am privileged to share in this experience of being family-in-faith with these dear people.
