IT was eight o’clock on a quiet night in the municipality of Izalco in Sonsonate, El Salvador.
The parish priest, Padre Napo, and his vicar, Padre Jorge, invited me to come to a meeting with members of their parish pastoral council. I didn’t know what to expect from this encounter.
All I knew was that I was stepping outside of my boundaries with a group of people I would be meeting for the first time and chatting with only in Spanish.
I introduced myself and sat with them in the living room. I allowed myself to blend in naturally by overcoming any feeling of shyness and distance.
They were interested in what I had to say. They asked questions about my origin, culture, and ministry. They were delighted to hear my answers and my stories.
We kept on chatting for an hour until we all got up to sit for dinner at one table. We smiled and laughed as we shared experiences and thought of meeting again someday.
I felt something profound when I sat at the dinner table with this group of strangers. I did not feel like an outsider; I felt one with them.
We spoke the same language: our faith in Jesus Christ, our Church, discipleship and leadership, our joys and challenges, and the beauty of all these.
Much more than the feeling of oneness with them was Christ’s presence at that moment. Jesus was in our midst.
It was the same thing I sensed earlier that day when I visited the tomb of Archbishop Romero and the chapel where he was martyred for the people of El Salvador.
At each place, I become one with Archbishop Romero—in an intimate prayer of intercession for God’s people, priests, and bishops.
It was the same feeling I had for my host family—Mario and Maria Elena Ortiz with their daughter, Fatima, and Maria’s mother, Cristina. They took me around El Salvador for three days.
It was also the same feeling I had for my hosts and friends in Guatemala during my prior week’s visit—for Hector Castaneda and his beloved mother, Maria Luisa, and all their relatives. Every encounter with them and their “paisanos” was a profound encounter with God.
I learned this lesson again during my visit to Guatemala and El Salvador—that we must have the courage to step outside our boundaries and comfort zones.
It’s not easy, but it is a fundamental call of Christian discipleship. Stepping out of our boundaries means opening our hearts and homes to other people—learning their culture, sharing each other’s resources, and most of all, loving God’s people, especially the poor and the oppressed.
However difficult, stepping out of our boundaries brings a surprising moment—we encounter God! He is alive and working in other people’s lives!
(I wrote this article in 2016 as part of a book I published, Walking with God: The Journey of a Priest’s Heart. I still have copies of this book if anyone is interested in obtaining one. I thought it relates to this Sunday’s Gospel on entering the “narrow gate.” Indeed stepping out of our boundaries and comfort zones is not easy—the path is narrow, but it’s all worth it when we persevere!).
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The opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints of the Asian Journal, its management, editorial board and staff.
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Fr. Rodel “Odey” Balagtas is the pastor of Incarnation Church in Glendale, California.
