There was just a bit to go before the procession. It was one of the last gestures I was to participate in before leaving our mission in Asunción, where I had been for two years. In procession through the streets of our parish, we were carrying the heart of St. Roque Gonzalez de Santa Cruz, a saint dearly beloved by the Paraguayan people. To him, in fact, are owed the first Jesuit reducciones. He died a martyr. His body was burned but, miraculously, his heart remained intact and, at a distance of almost 400 years, looking at it, it almost seems like you can feel it beat.
The procession begins in a solemn way. The palio is carried in turn by different young men. They are attentive and perform their task with devotion and respect. These young people belong to a community, led by a group of Franciscan friars who work to recover people with drug addictions, victims, above all, of one of the most tremendous plagues on Paraguay: crack. It is possible, for little less than a dollar, to buy a baggie. After the fifth time that you take it, you cannot do without it: addicted forever.
They are here to remember a friend of theirs, Juan. A few weeks ago, attempting to rob a supermarket, he was shot and killed by the police. Juan, as the Fransiscan friars recounted, was for them like a beloved son. When he arrived in the community, it was like an earthquake.
The peace is born from a Father who never ceases to love His children
Problems, tensions, evasions and returns to the community. He was not a happy man; on the contrary, the same brothers had thought that, perhaps, with him, there was nothing more that could be done. One day, the superior said: “Juan must be for each of us like the beloved son. Our work continues and can continue only if we live this preference with him.”
When his body was left in the morgue, without anyone coming forward to claim it, the first and only to present themselves were the brothers. They organized a funeral as if for a prince and asked me to celebrate the Mass. The servers were the boys of the community, friends of Juan, with the Fransiscan brothers and sisters, all united by the same pain. They cried as if one of their close family members had died.
The procession was about to finish and as a final gesture, I gave a blessing to each of these boys. I brought the heart of St. Roque to each of their hearts. Many burst into tears, others regained in their face a peace that had been lost for perhaps a long time. A peace that is born from a Father who never ceases to love His children, especially those who for Him are beloved.
