Bolivia Will Change You

I have served in foreign missions short-term since January of 2000. First in Ecuador, then Mexico, Honduras, and now Bolivia full-time. Bolivia is the country that has captured my heart. When I first arrived in January of 2024, I attended 6 weeks of language school. I moved into convento Santa Clara and was immediately accepted by the local secular Franciscan fraternity. One of the brothers adopted me and made sure I knew where to be on what day. We were sitting in Templo San Francisco waiting for Mass when a tiny little man closer to 4 feet tall named Rojo came up to me begging. I gave him 10 bolivianos. My Franciscan brother quickly let me know that I should not give him any money. He disrupts the mass and they are trying to discourage begging inside the church. Over the next several months, I observed his bad behavior in Mass, and I found him to be obnoxious and repugnant. I was disgusted every time he came into church and bothered people during the Mass. 

One hot summer day after work in the dining room, I went upstairs to relax on my bed, because most all of the community members that we serve were gone. The next thing I see is a face staring at me through the screen. It was Rojo. I began yelling at him. He started yelling back in rapid Spanish. I went out the door and he became more aggressive. I didn’t know what he was saying except for the curse words. I clenched my fists and threatened him with physical violence in order to protect myself. He left cursing me all the way to the door. Later, I found out that he is barred from the Franciscan social center and Templo San Francisco for threatening people with a knife. 

We had a visitor from a different Franciscan confraternity come to Cochabamba. He invited a group of us to dinner at a nice outdoor restaurant. It was a pleasant evening, and then Rojo showed up pestering everybody for money. It is a common practice in Cochabamba for beggars to come to your table and ask for money. Some people will give them some coins or part of their food that they are not going to eat. I asked him to follow me and we went to an area where no one was sitting. I gave him 20 bolivianos (about US $3) and asked him not to bother my friends. He gave me a huge hug and began praising God in a loud voice as he left the restaurant. My heart changed that day, and I saw the pain. The pain of a man without hope, who is often beaten because of his stature and place in society. Every time he sees me, he doesn’t ask for money. He tells me of a church that gave him new pants or a priest who gave him shoes. One day as we were eating lunch after serving others in the dining room he showed up. I got up and put my arm around him and we walked outside the center. A few days later, I saw him in the plaza and I offered him 10 bolivianos and I asked him not to buy alcohol or glue to sniff. He began to tell me that the problem is that he has bone cancer. The cancer has spread to his brain and other areas of his body. I am probably the only person in Cochabamba that believes him. He has such a bad reputation because of his behavior. 

Today, Divine Mercy Sunday, he walks up the aisle yelling to God then he turns around and walks away. I can hear him shouting from the middle of the church while the priest is reading the Gospel. I got up and walked back to the pew where he was kneeling. I knelt beside him and he bowed his head and began to pray silently. When he was finished I put my arm around him and he put his head on my shoulder for a while. His left eye has turned completely white and his face has become so misshapen that he is hardly recognizable. I asked him to follow me outside.

We talked for a little while and his pain has worsened. I didn’t have any money, and he didn’t care. He just wanted someone to listen. Francis kissed a leper. My leper has become my friend.

Question for reflection: Who are the lepers in your life?