TWO LITTLE BOYS

I was in Honduras this week to witness some of the poverty there and the ministry of Food for the Poor. On the trip down and on the return there were a number of high-school and college students with various missionary groups going to Central America and Jamaica to provide ministry and to be strengthened in their faith. It was both heart-warming and inspirational to see youths and young adults who want real meaning in their life…and find it by putting their faith to the test by being of service.

While in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, we saw countless homes built on cliff edges, often at the risk of mud-slides caused by torrential rains. The poor have few options, and will climb steep mountain sides to build their abodes wherever there is a stamp-size parcel of land. How they carry blocks and other materials up non-existent trails is a wonder.

We visited several ministry sites including two housing projects where we are building homes for more than 100 families (who help by providing “sweat equity” with the men laying the block walls and the women mixing cement and applying the stucco to the walls). At one of these, I observed two little boys enjoying themselves, jumping up and down on a muddy-soft ground covered with saw-dust as if it were a trampoline. We also visited the city garbage dump which lies atop of a mountain.

Even as we were making the steep climb in a bus on a winding dirt road I noticed the sky was covered with hundreds of vultures circling overhead. When the bus door opened, the stench immediately took our breath away. There were hundreds of folks, competing with the vultures, to perhaps find food, and working to collect bottles, cans, plastic and cardboard to recycle so that they might earn some meager income. Among the folks were pregnant women and children, with blackened hands and faces that most likely had not seen water for days, weeks or longer. As 18-wheelers arrived to dump more garbage the people would make an assault to find the “goods” as if it were a hidden treasure in the hope that they might have some income and food. At one point I noticed two kids kicking a beat-up soccer ball to take a momentary break…a respite from their daily hell, which most might never leave all their life.

As I watched those two children at play, it reminded me of two others I had seen years earlier in Guatemala City. Early one morning I took a walk in the neighborhood of St. Anthony Mary Claret, our Claretian parish, and noticed two children at play. Their mom was making tortillas and tamales outside a little metal shack, one side of which was the wall that separated the brick, cement and lumber yard on which the shack stood from the sidewalk, another side of which was the wall of an adjacent warehouse, and the other two sides were large metal strips held somewhat upright by some poles. The six-by-six foot shanty had a tin roof. As the mom was preparing food for the workers to earn her livelihood, the two little boys, with beautiful black eyes, of about three or four years old were playing joyfully in sand and mud. I delighted in watching them at play. And they reminded me of two friends.

In 1999 I participated with a group of about 40 in a biblical study in the Holy Land, part of which included archeological visits of holy places. One of these was Mount Sinai. Because of the desert heat we prepared to make the two-hour climb long before sunrise, so as to be at the top to witness the rising sun, and return before the heat would make it unbearable. As we began our climb with the light of a full moon there were perhaps thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world. Some went on camel back, but most walked. The long, serpentine line that was silhouetted by the moonlight reminded me of the ancient exodus from Egypt. We had only gone about 100 yards when Fr. Pierre (from Phoenix) sat down on a large rock, saying he could not go on. His legs and strength would not permit it. His closest friend, Fr. Mark (a Canadian) said he would stay with him, to which Pierre said, “No! You must go. You have wanted to climb Sinai all your life. Go!” Mark replied, “Do you think I would leave you here alone?”

Later that day, Fr. Chris (from Australia) celebrated Mass for us and he shared this song in his homily:

Two little boys had two little toys
Each had a wooden horse
Bravely they played each summer’s day
Warriors both of course

One little chap then had a mishap
Broke off his horse’s head
Cried for his toy, they wept with joy
When his young playmate said

Did you think I would leave you crying
When there’s room on my horse for two
Climb up here Joe, we’ll soon be flying
I can go just as fast with two

When we grow up we’ll both be soldiers
And our horsed won’t be toys
And I wonder if we’ll remember when we were two little boys
Oh I wonder if we’ll remember when we were two little boys

Long years passed, war came fast
Bravely they marched away
Cannons roared loud and in the mad crowd
Wounded and dying lay

Up goes a shout, a horse dashes out
Out from the ranks of blue
Galloped away to where Jack lay
Then came a voice he knew

Did you think I would leave you lying
When there room on my horse for two
Climb up here Jack we’ll soon be flying
I can go just as fast with two

Can you feel my heart’s all atremble
Well, perhaps it’s the battle’s noise
But I think it’s that I remember when we were two little boys
Yes, I think it’s that I remember when we were two little boys

During the homily, recalling the sacrificial love we had seen earlier that day, there wasn’t a dry eye in the group. Would that we could more and more be like the young people I met on this pilgrimage, and most especially like “two little boys”.