1. THE CROSS OF CHRIST LINKED TO MY OWN CROSS IN LIFE
first religious recollection was when I was in the
On the other hand, around this time, I remembered being thoroughly bored and impatient, as I attended an Easter Vigil with my family. I thought: how could anyone want to be a priest, putting up with such long ceremonies?
Some years later, on 13th
May, 1957 at
While I was at boarding school in St Paul's, La Cumbre, Province of Córdoba, in Argentina, we had to walk two miles to church on Sundays for mass; and because of the 3 hour fast requirement before mass that existed back then, I could not eat breakfast that morning, until I got back to school. By then, it was almost lunch time, and the sandwich which I had, was dried up.
(note: We were in a very dry climate up in the hills). No doubt,
this was a way to learn how to do some penance and appreciate that the Lord as
spiritual food, was infinitely more valuable than regular food. My mother also
taught me to turn my suffering into an offering of love to God. For instance,
when once I skinned my knees, when falling off a homemade go-cart, while coming
down a hill in 1954, in Atlanta, GA, she would say to me "offer it
up", but naturally attended to my wounds. I remember on some occasions
when things like this would happen, I would say under my breath: "
Right!…you are not the one in pain", probably because I expected a little
empathy, rather than being preached down to. She was right though, to teach me
to turn suffering into a prayer offering, which is at the heart of our Catholic
faith and of my Passionist charism. This is much like what
Once, I was traveling down
Both of my parents were instruments in teaching and accompanying their kids to pray. An example of this would be to say the rosary together, mostly during Advent. We also had religious objects in our house, like crucifixes in our bedrooms, a vase in the shape of the Virgin Mary, a picture of the Sacred Heart, etc.
With this background, coming back to my school days at St Paul's, I remember I would walk up a hill behind the school sometimes, and in a hidden place, under a bush that concealed me, I would say the rosary kneeling down on little stones as penance. No doubt the lives of some saints must have inspired me to do something like this.
was during this period at St. Paul's that I had two very powerful experiences
that left a strong impression on me, as it proved to me in a very vivid way how
merciful God is. On one occasion I was feeling very rejected, as the kids at
school would gang up and tease me, calling me "Yankee doodle,
doodle", repeated over and over again. One night, I called out to God that
I wanted my mother, amidst heart wrenching tears. The next morning, my parents
showed up at the school. To give some context to this experience, our home was
many miles away and it took, back then, several days of travel. Usually, when I
would go home for vacation, I would travel by an overnight bus to
(note: the windows still had the holes
in them for machine guns to fire from, during the war! The engines were so
noisy, that they left my ears ringing after we landed). There, my parents
awaited me. From
I have always considered myself a great sinner, even as a child, so when my parents showed up at school that morning; I realized how much God loved me, despite my sinfulness.
following year, something similar happened. I cried out at night to God once
more, after being teased again. The next morning, as I was doing my homework in
the classroom, at 6.30 am before breakfast with the other kids, the headmaster
called me over, and announced that my parents would arrive to visit me that
day! Wow! That was so incredible! I remembered then, what I had experienced the
year before. These were the only times my parents visited me, during the three
years I was at
home, in La Merced,
day I decided that I would breed caterpillars and watch them turn into
butterflies, as they emerged from their chrysalises, especially the owl butterflies,
which literally look like the face of an owl as a disguise. My fascination,
though, for these creatures, started back at our home, just outside of
No doubt, this experience was the basis for my thoughts of the Paschal Mystery, which we will deal with in chapter 10: THE CROSS AND THE CATERPILLAR.
for nature ran in the family. Both of my parents loved the outdoors, being
surrounded by the beauty of nature. Along with that, was the adventurous side,
especially on my father's side of the family. My spirituality is as a
consequence very connected with contemplation of God through nature and
especially connected to His Son's Crucifixion and Resurrection. The adventurous
spirit I feel helped me to have the courage to share the Cross of Jesus by
sacrificing myself as a missionary to
father in 1962 was at that time in charge of a farm belonging to the Liebig's
company located 30 miles south of the city of
Once I made myself a crown of thorns and with it on my head, I carried a heavy log on my shoulders in a secluded area of the ranch, just to get a tiny sense of what Jesus went through. The thorns hurt as did the log on my shoulders, but it didn't make me bleed, which was intentional. When looking back, it may have seemed to be an "adolescent" thing to do (I was 14 then), but the intent was good, as I was able to get a minute sense of what Jesus went through.
the following year, vocation to the priesthood and religious life emerged at my
A few weeks later, a Passionist priest, who was the chaplain at the school, asked me, what I planned to be, later on in life. I took this as an indication, that God was guiding me to the Passionists, as this took place soon after my call to the priesthood. No priest had ever asked me that question before. So despite the fact, that I had recently become a Franciscan Tertiary, I was convinced that God was calling me to this congregation. No doubt I had some knowledge of the Passionists and their way of life attracted me.
joining the postulancy, the next year, looking back, I realized how the
Passionist charism was very close to my heart. In the months leading up to my
call, I had developed a very close relationship with Christ Crucified and
our Sorrowful Mother at the foot of the Cross. Without knowing where the
prayer came from, I would recite the "Stabat Mater" every night in
English, which helped gel my relationship with them in a very special and
affectionate way. The parts of the prayer that most impressed me are shared
below with two special impacting images of Jesus Crucified and the Sorrowful
Mother. The image of Mary is from the
Gabriel of the Sorrow Mother, CP, who went to a Jesuit high school before
joining the Passionists, had a great devotion to Our Sorrowful Mother. I
believe that this image must be a replica of the one he had. I have, in fact,
seen this image in different Passionist houses in
while my mother had given me this image of Mary, I did not know at the time
that someone else had given it to her: it was a cloistered nun, who was a
convert to Catholicism, like us. We had been allowed to visit her when I was 5,
after our entrance into the Catholic Church. She converted after her sister was
cured of paralysis at
The next year, at the age of 15, I entered the postulancy. It was a beautiful piece of property, just acquired by the Passionists, with a small chapel made mostly of glass which looked out onto the garden: certainly very appropriate for prayer through nature. One of my chores was to take care of the bees. Sometimes I would get stung, but I did not like using gloves or a net over my head after some months of using them, as the mask reduced visibility, and it was hard to handle the panels with gloves on. Once I got stung in three places on the face. My eyes were practically closed because of the swelling. This lasted several days. This was not the first time, though, of being stung. They say it's good for arthritis! Who knows?
On the 26th February, 1967,
I started my novitiate in our monastery out
on the "pampa" founded by Fr. Fidelis Kentstone, CP, from the
I was very much at peace, and loved the moments of prayer. We had back then, the traditional practices of maintaining silence in many places, getting up to pray Matins at 2 am, three times a week. On those days, the 'discipline' was used and other unique practices to religious life in those days, now outdated, one known as the "culpa". I didn't find these practices difficult. I found it harder though, getting up again at 6 am for Lauds (morning prayer) than at 2 am, at which time I would be asked to sing the opening psalm 95: "Venite adoremus…" in Latin, something I was nervous to do and more so at that hour of the night! The chords for the 'discipline', I felt weren't painful enough to do penance, so I substituted them for a tennis shoe to use on my thighs. That really did hurt! Later on, I would develop more realistic ways of doing penance, in the spirit of the Vatican Council II, like being willing to minister in places with harsh conditions, at the service of others, or concentrating on eating foods that were better for one's health independent of whether I liked them or not. One of the important lessons I learned through our wise Novice Director, was that while doing many of these practices, which we knew were on the way out, we did them out of respect for the senior members of the community.
I must admit, I found some of those practices, like the culpa, so out of sync with history, that rather than being a sign of humility, for me it was entertainment!
One of the hardest penances I experienced was wearing sandals when the temperature was extremely cold. We actually did not have any kind of heating in the monastery. Once it went down to -8̊ C (17.6̊ F) and the next day -5̊ C (23̊ F). Water in the monastery had turned to ice. Chilblains formed on my toes for the first time in my life. Kicking pointed sticks accidently with cold feet was also painful. However the most painful moment for my feet was when I once raised one foot onto a bench, where someone was smoking a cigarette. He lowered his hand towards the edge of the bench, with the head of the cigarette facing towards me, just as I raised my foot. This was bad timing, as the head of the cigarette lodged itself between my big toe and the following one, right where they join, detaching itself from the rest of the cigarette. Before I could get it out, it had left a deep burn. Infection would set in afterward; certainly a painful situation.
During the novitiate, on Thursday afternoons, I would be in charge of cutting the hedges. There must have been about 500 yards of hedges on the property, so it was hard to keep up with the growth. I would move along quickly using a sickle to trim them. Unfortunately sometimes the point of the sickle, when cutting the sides of the hedges, would move beyond its target and stab me on top of my head or jab me in the back of my leg, before reaching the hedge. I obviously was cutting with too much haste in order to keep up with the growth of the hedges. Luckily these were not serious wounds and with time I mastered better the use of the sickle. The novitiate was a good place to turn one's pains into prayer of offering, as a way to put into practice the Passionist spirituality, as a way of sharing in the Passion of Christ, for the Salvation of the world. (Colossians 1: 24). To assist me in internalizing this spirituality in the novitiate, there was a bust of the head of the Christ of Limpias (Spain), very common to find in Passionist retreats; usually though, they are found as the head on a crucifix. It was my first encounter with such an impressive image of the suffering Jesus on the Cross, with his eyes open. This became the second image of Christ that, along with the other one, plus the image of our Sorrowful Mother, have been my preferred icons of devotion ever since. These are the images that help me connect with Jesus and Mary in a special way. As Pope Francis says: "let Jesus (or Mary) gaze on you".
There is no doubt, on many occasions in life, when suffering surprises and visits one often, in unsuspected ways. For instance, the ones previously mentioned. On another occasion, during the novitiate, I decided to patch up the bellows of a harmonium in the choir loft of our church. As I attempted to lay the harmonium on its back, it got too heavy. Not wanting to drop it when it was close to the floor and as it got heavier, three of my fingers as a consequence, got squashed between the floor and the lid of the harmonium, which was one inch thick. I was stuck! I started calling for help in a low voice out of respect for the Blessed Sacrament, but after a while, I was shouting as loud as I could. With the church being sound proof, no one could hear me. Finally after 45 minutes someone appeared in the church for some other purpose and I was able to get help to be released. My fingers were completely flattened to 1/3 of their normal size, and white. A minute stone was buried into the knuckle of my middle finger. One of the novices, who had studied medicine, said that I was lucky that blood vessels run down the sides of the fingers. This prevented me from losing my fingers due to a lack of blood circulation for such a prolonged time.
My profession took place on the 27th February, 1968, feast of St Gabriel of the Sorrowful Mother. I too, would take on a similar title as St Gabriel. Mine was "Christopher of the Seven Sorrows of Mary". I'm glad we didn't have to change our first names back then, as I was happy with the meaning of my name Christopher, i.e. "Christ bearer", from the Greek "Christophorus". For me, the "Seven" meant more than a specific number. I embraced it because of the biblical meaning of seven as perfection. Mary had suffered perfectly in intensity and quality. She truly participated in a perfect Christ-like way with her Son especially at the foot of the Cross, for the sake of our Salvation. Because of this she could become a true Mother for us, to guide us or "mother us" into doing the same.
doubt many intense sufferings have come my way in life, though mostly not in
the way I foresaw. Traumatic experiences have been one kind, like those who
lived with Military dictatorship, during the Dirty War in
After my profession, I started my four years of Philosophy combined with Humanities which was given the name of "Propadeútica". There were 43 students in my class. One of our professores was Jorge Bergoglio, SJ, the future Pope Francis.
this period of my life, I had very opposite spiritual experiences. I remember
once, when walking outside at night in prayer, I felt my heart soar with joy in
the Holy Spirit. I felt as if my heart wanted to lift me up in the air.
However, as time went on, the crisis which we all were feeling during this post
was an experience of dryness and confusion that helped me realize that faith is
deeper than reason and feeling. I realized afterward, that God must have given
me such a noticeable calling, so that I could pull through difficult moments
like this. Slowly I was able to weather the crisis. Recently, when sharing this
experience with another priest, he told me, that I was a survivor: a good
insight. Interestingly enough, my vocation regained its strength, when after my
"Propadeútica" graduation, equivalent to a Bachelors degree, in 1972,
when I traveled north, for an "experience", a typical practice of
those times. I did a two year course of training for rural professors. It was a
very helpful experience. Among other things, it gave me useful educational
tools, which would come in handy when I would become the director of our
the end of this educational experience, I decided that I was ready to make my
final profession in our
During my profession, I chose to do it barefoot. I felt, that it helped me to feel humble before God. I also used a large, thick, lit candle, which I would afterwards give to my parents, asking them to light it every time they prayed for me, until it was totally consumed. The idea behind this was that my life was to be constantly wearing out, in the service of Christ and others.
On the 20th of December,
1975, I was ordained
to the priesthood at Holy Cross (
put a lot into preparing my own ordination, except for a lot of the externals.
In fact, I had to run around, at the last moment, looking for a chasuble to
use! It was the choice of songs, readings, meaningful remembrance prayer cards,
invitations and people involved in the liturgy that I concentrated on,
including the presiding bishop, Marcelo Mendiarat, in exile due to the unjust
persecution of the military government of
important part of preparing for my ordination was a nine day solitary retreat, which
I made in an abandoned school, on our property, close to the monastery,
where I had done my novitiate, in the
My meals were always garbanzo beans which I boiled up and tangerines, which I picked off the bushes close by. I did actually lose quite a bit of weight in the process, which was a blessing in itself. After some days, I kept getting the urge to socialize with the brethren at the monastery. To refrain was a major penance. It helped me realize how important it was being with others, while at the same time, this was a time to practice detachment, which would help me not become over-dependent on others.
were signs of God's supportive presence for my ordination, including being
graced by such a holy bishop to ordain me. This was the 200th year of the death
I have been blessed by a very meaningful family crest that symbolically brings together much of what I am meditating on, be it the symbol of the 3 keys, the gate, the wings, the blood, the body, and their connection with Scripture, the Liturgy of the day, together with meaningful real life experiences, which highlights God's merciful presence in our life. In my autobiography of 2018, I reflected on the crest which has been at the back of my mind since my priestly ordination.
A copy of the details is as follows:
“On 20th December, 1975,
I was ordained to the priesthood. Many families, you may know, have a family
crest. My family
crest from my father's side of the family acquired significance for me at
the time of my ordination. First of all, it was a Holy Year, during which a
special door is opened in
I would add to the reflection, that the open side of the phoenix from which it is feeding its young with its body and blood, reminds us of Christ who feeds us with Himself from the his open side which is over his loving heart, in a special way in the Eucharist. It is no coincidence that this symbol is found on many tabernacles of churches. 
Also, when I was ordained, I felt as one with our Mother Mary when she proclaimed: “My soul magnifies the Lord... for He has done great things in me. Holy is His Name”. Looking back over the years, this song of Mary still resonates in my heart, as I am ever so grateful for the many blessings the Lord has bestowed on me. Yes, there have been very painful experiences on the journey, but life is full of “sunshine and shadows”, and it is through suffering that the Lord purifies us and makes us better people, like gold purified in fire. (Psalm 12:6; 1 Peter 1:6-7)
The years following my ordination were very active in ministry covering many diverse areas: like parish ministry, involving baptisms, confirmations (during my missions), marriages, visiting the sick and administrating the sacrament of the sick and chaplaincies at schools. At the same time, I preached novenas and missions and was superior and formator for the Passionist students. Basically I was putting into practice, a wise recommendation, to do a variety of ministries in the first 5 years after ordination, so as to build up an experience, before specializing in any one area.
An area of my suffering that I have perceived as associated with demonic forces. Often when I am faced with important ministry and vocational work I have experienced meddling in my ministerial tools, and unjust, unmerited violent and unexplainable reactions of people towards me. The following is an example I share from my autobiography.
June 1978 -
"Giving a mission in La Mendieta was a real challenge. There was no pastor, as the bishop was upset with the behavior of the people in the parish, so the pastor was replaced with sisters instead, which didn’t work out very well. When I arrived, I found it hard to find a key to open the church. I finally did track down a neighbor who had the key. I could feel a strong sense of evil, as many things happened to stop the mission from going forward.
There were three tape recorders available to work with, but none of them would work as I prepared an audio visual for the mission. I planned to use one, to accompany in sound, a slide show, enacting the last supper of Jesus with his apostles. When I did finally track one down that did work, the central message of the commandment of love at the last supper had been erased! On the other hand, the first day of mission coincided with a national soccer game on TV, which drew many people away from the mission. The following day when we had the “Way of the Cross” in the streets, the weather turned so cold that people dropped out along the way to take refuge from the cold. There were also strange, unexplained noises in the rectory of the parish, in the middle of the two nights where I stayed, that kept me awake. This didn’t help me to be sufficiently rested, to be an effective preacher the next day.
La Mendieta, as
mentioned, was where the sugar refinery was located. The manager was an
Evangelical and gave better positions and higher wages to those who joined his
church. Bear in mind that the majority of people in
Despite all the difficulties in this mission in La Mendieta, I had a good number of people in the church at La Mendieta on the final day of the mission. The use of audio visuals, despite the drawback was a great asset.
After the mission was over, the tape recorders were all working again. When I opened up one of them, I found that a piece of plastic had detached itself on the inside and was jammed in a rotating part of the recorder, which was needed for it to work. Once the piece of plastic was released, the recorder was working again."
Because of my missionary zeal during this period, I wasn't wise in measuring my human limitation, young person that I was. Here is an example of constant ministry without a break.
In August of 1980, I preached a novena in the
Immediately after the novena, I travelled north on
an overnight trip by bus for some 12 hours to the city of
It was a good experience, but exhausting, and more so when trying to get a little break after lunch with a short 'siesta', but it became impossible to sleep, as the church bells would make a single "bong" every minute for half an hour in honor of the people who were saved from the 2 devastating earthquakes centuries before. Also, the bells ring on the anniversary of one of those powerful earthquakes, which destroyed the city, but with no deaths. This was attributed to the protection of Mary, whose statue during one of those earthquakes, fell onto the altar facing the tabernacle and whose crown fell off at her feet. The bells would imitate the type of ringing that took place very early in the morning on the anniversary of one of the earthquakes. It might have been a nice devotion, but it kept me from getting some much needed recovery sleep!
On September 14, we had to attend to the pilgrims
that arrived mostly from all over the
The 15th of September was the actual day of the
Feast of the Miracle which included a huge procession. The image of the
Crucified Christ had appeared in a box off the shores of
This experience in
We Passionists would return with the same procedure the following year in 1981. Even Fr Jorge Bergoglio, SJ, (Pope Francis), went to this novena the following year in 1982 with his novices.
Immediately after the Feast of the Miracle in
All these places were far apart from each other and meant many hours of travel by bus: around 12 hours, each trip. So this multitude of apostolic activity was an example how of my youthful zeal was not taking into account the importance of measuring my limitations. I was unaware of this then, and it was the reason I broke down when I reached the mission of Arecifes.
When I got back home to our monastery in the
In 1981, I was transferred to our parish of "Santa
Gema" in Montevideo. as assistant pastor, while carrying on with my
missionary activity and school chaplaincy in
People were obliged to join a base community, in
order to have a kid baptized, probably after a year or more of being in that
community. However, with the lack of expertise in any particular base
community, the chances of parents getting a proper formation, if any at all,
were very slim. The same was true with marriage preparation. The need for
sacraments, in other words, was used, to force people into a base community!
The parish council was made up of the leaders of the base community and the
pastors. I quickly learned that it was one or two of the lay people who
manipulated the decisions in the parish council. These lay people wanted to
control everything, even the movements of the priests. I was close to a couple, who completely opposed this system of running the
parish. They, previously, had spent many years preparing couples for the
sacrament of marriage. Obviously, they did not belong to any base community.
Most of the time, many people from base communities, would not be at Sunday
mass, as they had mass in one of the homes of their base community. They also
were highly politicized. I don't oppose base communities; on the contrary. What
I opposed, was the way they were overemphasized and organized in a parish
structure that wasn't appropriate. In
Obviously this experience was another way of sharing in the Cross of Christ.
In 1980, I felt a special call to get into a more
challenging life style within my Passionist vocation. It was that more
penitential or sacrificial loving outreach, that I was feeling the need for.
This had nothing to do though with my frustration with the parish in
The choices of a more austere life before me were:
a. Move into a slum in
b. Join our mission, among the Wichi Indians, in Ingeniero Juarez, Province of Formosa, central/north Argentina, in very harsh conditions, where daily temperatures often reach 40 ̊ C (104 ̊ F ) and more. (Note: on one occasion in recent years, it reached 60 ̊ C (140 ̊ F) in the sun! The Wichi describe the rising temperatures, due to global warming, as the sun that seems to be getting closer to the earth. 
c. My third
option was, to volunteer, as part of the Indian Passionist foundation, which
would start in 1981. The General Superior Fr. Paul Boyle, CP, was actually
looking for volunteers. And this is the option I took, as, not only would I be
doing missionary work in a poor, challenging environment, but I would be
helping to call and train future Passionists. I remembered the Chinese proverb:
"give a fishing rod to people, so that they can catch their own
fish." Who better to preach the gospel of the Passion, than those who
spoke the many languages of
Initially, in 1980, I had offered myself to our
General Superior, Fr. Paul Bolye, CP, to go to
The following year, when the General Superior was
Being in India no doubt was a very rich experience and helped broaden my perspective of life. It took an effort on my part to understand, from the Indian perspective, their rich but unique cultures. People we got to know were wonderful and engaging. Hospitality in homes was exceptional. There were many things that impressed me, like there artistic ability. I also got some good insights into a type of spirituality in a Christian/Indian/Asian context.
As I wrote elsewhere, "we were strict in insisting that the postulants struggle to speak English among themselves as it was the only way they would come to master it quickly. It must have been tough for them, but the sooner they mastered a common language with us and between themselves from different states, the better. Initially I was involved in teaching them English. The postulants though, weren’t the only ones trying to master a language. The professed Passionists tried to learn Malayalam. Of course older people find it harder to learn and Malayalam is a very difficult language. Fr. Lombardo, Fr. Carlos and I actually took classes at a convent close by to learn Malayalam before the seminary opened. One thing I did not want the postulants to think though, was that in making English the official language, we were discrediting their culture. To help convey the indirect message that we respected their languages, I had them recite the daily rosary together, using their respective languages for the different decades of the rosary." Adjustment to cultural differences among the staff from 5 different countries as well as for the students from different unique states with their own language, script, food, clothing, etc., was all a challenge for everyone. It was another way of sharing the Cross of Christ. It was also a Pentecost experience! What united us within our limitations was the language of Love.
As my 11 years with the Indian Mission was in
progress, I started looking to the
Ø I felt embarrassed
I was also aware, that there was a great need for Spanish speaking
priests in the
when my time was up in
settling down at our monastery at Immaculate Conception for six months, I moved
to our Vincent Strambi residence on the south side, where I did extra
post-graduate studies at Catholic Theological Union (C.T.U.). It is a serious
educational body and I enjoyed specially the cross-cultural studies. I took special
interest in getting greater insights into the Popular Religiosity surrounding
the mystique of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and wanted something practical that
would help me minister to the Hispanics, especially of Mexican origin in the
was Our Lady who helped integrate indigenous people with the Spaniards in
After all, Our Lady of Guadalupe, as a loving mother of all ethnic groups, reflects it in her face. It shows Indigenous and Mediterranean characteristics, but also she has green eyes, reflecting those of us, who are Caucasian. This experience of "mestizaje" also was experienced on the east coast of the US, mainly in Saint Augustine, where Europeans, Africans and Native Americans bonded together, as the first melting pot experience in this country, long before the May Flower arrived, bringing British immigrants.
one occasion, I gave this novena to Filipinos in
Moving to Chicago
when I did in May 1993 was providential, as I was relatively close by, when
Penelope, my oldest sister, died of cancer on 3rd November, that same year, and
I was able to be with her at her death bed. Also my father would die the following
year on 26 June, 1994, from a massive heart attack and I was also able to
preside at the funeral for him, as I had done for my sister. I would also be
present at my mother's death bed on 14 March, 1999 and preside at her funeral.
Had I been in
Departure of loved ones is another way of sharing in the Cross of Christ, much as Mary at the foot of the Cross, when she lost her Son, though her loss was much more painful due to the circumstances of Him being her only son and one who was a perfect example to all.
Congregation of the Passion of Jesus Christ, commonly known as the Passionists
are a religious order in the Catholic Church founded by
 'Culpa' consisted of kneeling down in the 'refrectory' (dining room in front of the superior and asking forgiveness for different things.
 A "monstrance" in the Catholic Church is an open or transparent receptacle in which the consecrated Host is exposed for veneration. Check out on Google images if you wish to get a visual
 For some reason many people confuse this legendary phoenix bird with a pelican but this is not correct. Those who know what a pelican looks like, would not be confused!
 To see the details on many video clips found on YouTube. Just type in "El Senor y la Virgen del Milagro" at least to see the visuals if you don't understand Spanish.
 different from the way this word is usually understood.
 Note: The underground water in this area has a high percentage of six minerals, which is not fit for human consumption. This upsets the intestines and it tastes awful. On one of my missionary trips there, as a water douser, like my paternal grandfather, I had located good underground water for the people. Unfortunately the military in their area took it over for themselves! Our Passionists there live in very poor conditions and healthy food, like vegetables and fruit, are hard to come by. One of the Passionist General Consulters, Fr. Harold Rausch, CP, stated that this was the poorest Passionist mission in the world. Certainly, having visited many mission areas as General Missionary Secretary, later on in life, I would confirm this comment from what I have witnessed myself.
 It can be found in English and Spanish on my website at http://cpcentral.freeservers.com along with an electronic copy of this book.