Passionist Volunteers International (Honduras)

The Passionist Volunteers International (PVI) is an organization that sends American volunteers to serve the rural and urban poor in Honduras and Jamaica West Indies. The volunteers are rooted in the charism and tradition of St. Paul of the Cross to be present to those who suffer in these two marginal areas of our western hemisphere. An international Passionist Volunteer offers their services to the Passionist mission activities in the area. This service is a one year commitment which can be extended. Please visit the following site to see more information regarding the PVI program.   

In Honduras the Passionist Volunteers are based in Talanga, a town of 30,000, located an hour north of Tegucigalpa, the Capital. There they live in community in a three bedroom house located a few blocks from the main church and the central park. Their typical week mixes activities both in and outside of Talanga. A main focus of the program is Casa Pasionista, a home for those suffering from HIV/AIDS, established by the Passionists in 1991.

Jean Baumgardner volunteered this past year to serve at the Casa Pasionista mission in Honduras. Below is an account of her experience of service and the spirituality of suffering.  

What Does It Mean?: by Jean Baumgardner

Until now I have never written about a man that I hardly know. Every Wednesday I go to Casa Pasionista, a community residence of AIDS internos (patients). Sitting and chatting with Gladis, I could see into a room where a man they call Mario lay dying. Rays of light pour into the room, illuminating dust particles as they fall on the floor, defeated as are the dead white blood cells that could no longer fight for Mario.

Fidel, another interno, turns and asks, “Have you ever seen a person dying of AIDS?” I shake my head. Fidel and Gladis begin telling stories of friends who died from AIDS. From a long time I sat with them watching Mario’s father sitting at his son’s side, sombrero in his lap, clasping his son’s hand. I watched his lips move but couldn’t make out what he was saying. My ears heard only the foreignness of a language spoken to a person dying of a terrible disease. I told Gladis that I wanted to enter the room, but was afraid. Knowing that this reality was so unknown to me, she squeezed my hand and led me into the rom.

“He wants to pray,” Mario’s father announces. We circle the bed. When I look into Mario’s wide black eyes I see a child, not a man, staring back at me. Mario’s father dials a cell phone and turns on the speaker. He explains that he always calls this woman to pray when he is desperate. She is a great Catholic but people from all religions ask for her prayers. “She is old, too fat to move but she sits praying every day,” he explains.

Her voice books in the room! We close our eyes. I listen to her voice and the voices of the internos calling out to Jesus, Mary and the saints. Time stops. Mario’s face relaxes into a quiet peace as he pulls down over his hear his hat that reads, “God is love.” We stand together in silence for a minute.

Maria asks me to help her wash Mario. His knee caps wobble as I help him to his feet as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. We hold onto each other in a precarious balancing act while Maria washes him. I shift my balance between my feet and we sway like we are dancing. His face is so close to mine that I can see myself staring back at me from his pupils.

Fidel watches us as we gently lay Mario back down. He asks me, “What does it mean for you to see a person dying of AIDS?…This is what we will all become.” With that Maria and Fidel give a full, rich, alive laugh! A reminder that we cannot let death, pain, and suffering consume us.

When I walk into Casa Pasionista I never know where accompanying the internos will take me. That Wednesday I never thought I would be asked what it means to see a person dying of AIDS, to witness the suffering of a man I hardly know. Trying to answer an unanswerable question I think of Simon, who was called to accompany Jesus, a man he hardly knew, to carry the cross. Just as Simon walked a short part of the journey to Calvary with Jesus, I was given the privilege to spend some time with Mario with he is dying.