Catholicism

Since the Spanish conquistadors arrived in South America bearing sword and Scripture, Catholicism has taken root in the culture of Latin America, becoming an integral part of the very fabric of the continent itself. Although not a Catholic, I have many friends in the faith who I respect greatly, some of whom converted as adults and have shared their stories with me in detail. Through the influence of some of them, I have attended daily Mass during Lent, Good Friday services, and visited Vatican City. And it was through one of these friends that we became connected with Lumen Dei, the Catholic order which runs the hospital-clinics where we worked.

As the hospital is Catholic run, the influence of the Church was clearly evident, from the flowing robes of the nun-physicians to the medallions of the hospital’s patron saints and the large murals of Christ and Mary which hung from the walls. Every morning began with prayers in the waiting room for all the patients and each noon was punctuated with midday devotions. In the exam rooms, patient records contained a spirituality section which dictated confirmation and baptism status, and small notes on the desks reminded the doctors to serve the patients with love. Though we did not witness prayers in the exam rooms, on occasion we listened as nuns counseled of the dangers of contraception to unhearing ears.

In the midst of such strongly Catholic imagery and tradition, I felt a sense of order and peace. Every day continued in the same ritual, as it always has been. Though we did not take of the Eucharist, the nuns made us feel at home, patiently encouraging us with prayers. At one of the rural clinics in Oropesa, we happened to be present for an annual celebration. The festivities began with Mass in the hospital chapel, which was connected to the main building through an outside passage. Although I could not understand much of what the priest was saying, the few words I could comprehend resonated: Jesus is the Great Physician. Cast your cares on Him, for He will heal you. I walked out of the chapel into the warm sunlight, encouraged.

That afternoon as we headed back to Cusco via ambulance, the sister in charge of the hospital sat in the back with us and could not find a seatbelt. The ambulance began to charge down the steep, rocky path and all of us were jolted out of our seats. She quickly made the sign of the cross on her chest and laughed – and we all did the same. Pray for us, they pleaded on our last day at the hospital. We certainly will.