The four priests of Parroquia San Lucas often receive requests to come to the outlying communities to lead worship there. Community members travel by pickup and bus to speak with a priest and schedule a Mass. In early September, the lack of rainfall in the so-called "rainy season" brought in a gentleman from Sucún, a small village in the highlands north of San Lucas, to schedule a Mass as a prayer for rain. I joined Father John Francis Brandes on September 9 as he drove to Sucún to pray with the people for much-needed rain for their crops.

     It was a beautiful day for a drive. Father John Francis, Jordan Diaz (a photographer on assignment with the Christian Foundation for Children and Aging), and I left San Lucas at 7:45 a.m. after a quick bite of breakfast. The three of us crammed into the front of the pickup; it was a bit tight, but this way we were able to enjoy the scenery together.

     Again, it was a beautiful day. As we climbed the hill to the north, Lake Atitlán became visible to the left as deep valleys with their richly green slopes fell away to the right. We passed many small towns, humble churches, and strong campesinos heading out to work. Jordan mentioned that when he is working in his fields, he leaves the house at 6:00 a.m., carrying his breakfast of tortillas and rice.

     We reached our turnoff, a winding dirt road leading to the east. Before long, the road sloped downward into the valley, dropping to the Madre Vieja River at its bottom. It was narrow and steep, with precarious hairpin curves. I dreaded having to pass any other vehicles; fortunately, we did not have to. Partway down, we picked up a man needing a lift; he rode in the back of the pickup, of course, as tight as we already were in front. Soon we were at the bottom, and I marveled at this humble stream, here so close to its spring-fed beginnings, which I had only seen further to the south as a large river.

     We crossed a small bridge and made our way up the far side of the valley, ending higher than where we had started. The views across and along the valley were gorgeous. From here we could see the volcanoes around Lake Atitlán: Tolimán, Atitlán, and San Pedro. The hillsides were quilted with alternating areas of forest and cornfield. It was still early, before many clouds had rolled in, and the surrounding green mountains reached into and touched the deep blue sky.

     As we moved away from the valley and onto the relatively flatter areas, we passed corn, wheat, and beans. There were many areas with pine trees, part of a reforestation effort. Father John Francis noted that these wooded areas, with their cabins, appeared much like the forests of northern Minnesota.

     An hour after leaving San Lucas, we reached Sucún. It was a simple village with a few collections of both wood and block houses. There were fields of corn, wheat, and beans and a large pasture for their cows.

     After parking near the church, we were met by Manuel Tian, a leader in the Catholic community there. He led us through a stile, across the pasture, and into the churchyard, where a large crowd greeted us. Many people turned out for this Mass, this prayer for rain. Their crops were in desperate need of water. Though some of their corn did have ears, most did not.

     Before moving into the church, Father John Francis took out his harmonica, which he calls his mouth organ, and played for the people. He weaved his way through the crowd wearing a dreadlocked wig sewn into a baseball cap and filled the air with music. He swayed towards groups of children, who ran away, only to hurry back as he turned a different direction. This was a unique call to worship.

     Everyone made their way into the church; some people were already there, praying. Our musician-priest played his way up the center aisle, to the sanctuary, where he put away his harmonica and prepared for the liturgy. The church interior was decorated for this celebration; the people had hung banners from the wooden ceiling and carpeted the floor with long, plush pine needles.

     We began with a simple reconciliation service, expressing to God our sorrow for our sins and recommitting ourselves to love and serve with purity. Manuel Tian echoed Father John Francis’ Spanish in Quiché, the native language of the region.

     Mass followed; it was the celebration of the feast of the birth of Mary, mother of our Savior. As always, I was struck by the humility and devotion and fervor that the people of this culture put into their prayer. Everyone sang with full voice, led by a simple choir of several young men. All knelt at various times on the hard cement floor. Upon receiving Jesus in the Eucharist, most people spent time in earnest communion with God.

     When Mass ended, some people remained at the sanctuary to prepare for a procession while most made their way to the broad, high steps in front of the church. They eagerly gathered for pictures; cameras are a great way to become an instant friend with children here.

     Soon all was ready for the procession. We walked through part of the pasture alongside and behind the church, then made our way to the roadway, where we walked about a quarter of a mile to another church in the community. Father John Francis walked at the front, followed by people carrying a small platform holding a statue of Mary and a candle. A large portion of the community followed, singing songs of faith and devotion. Twice before reaching the other church, again in front of it, and twice on the way back to the original church, the procession stopped for a moment of gathered prayer. At each of these stops, select individuals prepared a bed of pine needles and flower petals, where they set Mary’s platform and together praised God’s goodness.

     Father John Francis and I left the procession at the mid-point, the other church, to go back to where we had parked. As we walked, two young women approached and gave Father John Francis a gift of a squash in gratitude for his coming and praying with them in their need.

     Back at the church, Father John Francis went inside to take care of a few things while I walked to the far side of the pasture. The land ended abruptly at a cliff; the view from here was as spectacular as those we had seen along the drive. Near a less steep area, several boys were playing with a large, old wagon wheel. As I took their picture, all of the boys who were with a group being photographed by Jordan noticed and came running, demanding that I also take their picture. I feigned hesitation and disinterest, but they and I knew that I wouldn’t resist this collage of innocence and energy. Of course, I took their picture.

     As the procession concluded, most people dispersed to take care of their own matters. Manuel Tian invited Father John Francis and me to have a bite of lunch; several women had prepared a meal of chicken, squash, potatoes, noodles, broth, and tortillas. They also served a dish of extremely hot chili powder. Here in Guatemala, I have learned very well the expression ten cuidado, or be careful, when eating chili.

     The meal was excellent, with more than enough food. There is a great sense of hospitality always shown to visitors, especially to priests (and evidently to their companions as well). God is so important in the daily life of the Guatemalan people that those who guide them in their faith are treated with exceptional respect and honor.

     After eating, we picked up Jordan, who had finished his photo project, said our good-byes, and climbed into the pickup. We gave a ride to a man who needed to get to the main highway across the valley. I rode in the back of the truck with him; we talked about the plants, about where I was from, and about the unfortunate lack of these high-mountain vistas in Minnesota.

     The ride through the valley was, again, spectacular. In the back of the pickup, I was able to appreciate the sights in panorama. We picked up another man along the way; both of our passengers left us once we reached the highway.

     The highway back to San Lucas was smooth and peaceful. It was wonderful to ride in the open air as we drove through several low clouds. I spent the time in prayer, thanking God for his goodness, for this day, for this experience – and I prayed one more time for rain for the sake of the people of Sucún.