Los Amigos is a faith-based organization dedicated to supporting programs that improve and transform the lives of the poor of Chimbote, Peru.

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Read a Story: Sunday Mass in Chimbote

This story was written by a visitor attending mass in Chimbote during a visit in 2006 and provides some background information on Jaime, a man who lives in the mission compound.

When Fr. Jack preaches to the congregation, he speaks like a friend sitting across a restaurant table. When he sings, he sings with abandon, like a Peruvian. When it’s time to recite prayers, he recites them smoothly, no matter what’s going on around him.

He recites them smoothly when the people keep streaming in, through the opening song, through the first reading, through the responsorial psalm. He recites them smoothly when the benches – a few two-by-fours nailed together into a long, narrow platform – hold ten, then twelve, then fifteen as children are lifted into laps and bodies squeeze together to make room for more.

When Sr. Peggy greets the arriving families, she always does it with a smile and a touch. She smiles and pats the back of the eighteen year-old altar girl who is pregnant and struggling to hide it. She smiles and hugs both the girls making their first communion today – the one with the specially curled hair and delicate, lacy dress, and the one with the hand-me-down dress that’s two sizes too big. She smiles and waves across the aisle at the former prostitute who will make her first communion in a few weeks.
 
There are two entrances to the church – one in back and one in front to the left of the altar – and people keep streaming into both. They are dressed in their best whether their best is slacks and sweaters or jeans and sweatshirts. Some have had breakfast before the Mass. Many have not. Because the soup kitchens are closed on weekends, some may not eat at all today.

During the second reading, a dog wanders in from the door in the front and climbs the stairs to the altar. He wags his tail and surveys the congregation. Fr. Jack doesn’t pause. No one else seems to notice, either.

But when Jaime follows in the dog’s path, threading his way up the steps and across the altar platform, a few in the congregation snigger and shift in their seats.

Jaime (pronounced HIGH may), has the burly upper body of a boxer. His deep-brown head is bald. Some of his teeth are missing. His broad, flat nose looks like it’s been broken. His arms are beefy enough to crush the average Peruvian.

One of Jaime’s bare feet is planted firmly on the floor, black toes spread wide, but the other doesn’t quite reach. A mangled foot dangles from his calf and gives him a pronounced limp.  

“The Word of the Lord,” the reader says when the second reading is finished. Jaime is behind her and heading toward the celebrant’s chair where Fr. Jack sits.

“Thanks be to God,” the crowd responds.

Jaime is within a few feet of Fr. Jack. When the voices of the crowd reach him, a sound like the low note on a trumpet bleats out from his throat. His eyes twinkle. He grins, bleats again, and tries to catch Fr. Jack’s eye.

Years ago, when Fr. Jack was new to Chimbote, he was performing a wedding that Jaime wandered into. When Jaime wandered to the front of the church and began making his noises, the brothers of the bride threw him outside. Jaime returned with a lead pipe. The brother’s brides rushed his way, ready for a fight.

Desperate to prevent a violent clash and to keep the wedding on course, Fr. Jack stepped between Jaime and the brothers and led Jaime by the arm to the celebrant’s chair on the altar. There Jaime sat for the rest of the wedding while Fr. Jack kept an eye on him.
Later Fr. Jack asked around about Jaime.  Jaime was well-known on the streets as someone the kids picked on whenever he came near but didn’t seem to have anyone who could care for him. Although the people were afraid of him, no one remembered Jaime striking first but only in self-defense.  

After the wedding, Fr. Jack took Jaime into the parish compound where the priests lived. He called for some soap, bathed Jaime, and dressed him in clean clothes.

Ever since, Jaime has lived in the parish compound. And ever since the wedding where they met when Fr. Jack directed Jaime to the celebrant’s chair, Jaime has claimed the chair as his own and often wanders in to sit there during Mass.

So today, as Fr. Jack begins the Gospel Acclamation, he just gives Jaime a small nod.

But today, for some reason, the nod makes Jaime stop in his tracks.  He makes happy noises in his throat and throws up his arms in joy, then turns around and threads through the aisle to the seat beside Sr. Peggy. She moves over to make room, helps settle him on the bench and pats his good leg. Together they listen to Fr. Jack’s homily and then rise and join hands for the Lord’s Prayer:

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.

Jaime grunts with joy. The voices in the crowd gather speed and energy.

Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our trespasses.
As we forgive those who trespass against us;
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

Then the church erupts in movement. It’s the Sign of Peace. Neighbors reach over pews to shake hands with neighbors. Women coo over babies.  Fr. Jack makes his way into the crowd and stops at each pew for handshakes and kisses.

Sr. Peggy turns to Jaime, shakes his hand, and pats his back. Children from Sr. Peggy’s catechism classes climb across benches to hug and kiss her. Most give Jaime a wary look but some give him a smile. He grins at them all.