Immediately after being ordained, Friar Jesus was in the Saint Rita Parish of Madrid, Spain (1973-1977); he also spent a brief period in the center of Costa Rica (San Antonio de Belén, 1988-1989), and a year in the well-known Bronx neighborhood of New York (1989-1990).
But his 47 years (and counting) in Sarapiquí earned him the title of favorite son of his municipality in 2022 and even the affectionate nickname given to him by his fellow Recollect priests. Specifically, he has served in Río Frío (1977-1988, 1990-1997, 2004-2017), Venecia de San Carlos (1997-2004), and Puerto Viejo (2017 to the present).
In this interview we review his memories of arriving in Costa Rica and learn his opinion on other issues regarding missionary pastoral work in the Church.
How was your adjustment when you arrived in Sarapiquí?
From a personal standpoint, I had to rework my somewhat romanticized ideas about the mission. Riofrío, or Finca 6, was a 2,500-hectare banana plantation with three tightly controlled entrances. Upon arrival, you stopped your vehicle, got out, and presented your documents. Then, formalin, an aqueous antimicrobial, antiviral, and bactericidal solution with a very strong and pungent odor, was applied to your tires and shoes.
It was all one enormous property, comprised of eleven farms belonging to the Standard Fruit Company, nine of which were planted. Everything revolved around bananas. Although the wages were good compared to other agricultural areas, the banana plantations had a terrible reputation as lawless, depraved places, rife with vice. After experiencing other realities in the country, it wasn’t so different, except that on the banana plantation everything was more open, without any veneer of moralism.
Tensions between unions and management were also well-known. Both sides tried to influence the Church and gain the parish priest’s favor. It was always the working class who paid the price.
The parish also served District III of the canton, Orquetas, with villages that sprang up after the invasion of lands belonging to the State Institute of Land and Colonization. They had a different set of problems. There, we built the school before the church: the children wouldn’t miss class, and Masses could be celebrated under that same roof.
We Recollects started from scratch there, adapting our own house. Moreover, I found myself alone very early on. My main task was to accompany the people, without any intention of converting them or developing grand theoretical frameworks. The idea of “being with the people” and “accompanying” them arose because, although highly technical and well-prepared people could draft pastoral plans and projects, in practice, they almost never worked.
In Sarapiquí, I’ve come across seven or eight pastoral plans, all drawn up in offices, not based on the realities and experiences of daily life. In Puerto Viejo, there have been diocesan guidelines for catechesis since 2016, but when we try to implement them, real-life situations arise, and the question comes: what do I do now?
Being with people and participating in their lives allows you to gradually create a sense of community. Conviction comes from action, not words. A rule that doesn’t resonate with people is useless; they won’t adhere to it, they’ll find ways to escape or circumvent it, just like with traffic laws or tax regulations. The law must be within each of us; compliance stems from conviction, not from attempts to impose it from the outside.
What role does the Church play in the well-being of the people in Sarapiquí?
Multinational corporations dominate the world. Although labor rights are clearly defined in legislation, when they are not respected, a strong authority is needed to oversee compliance, or workers need to know how to defend themselves. No one achieves anything without someone else’s consent. If someone is exploited and remains silent, they will continue to be exploited.
The Catholic Church is situated in primarily capitalist societies, and even operates within those parameters and norms in practice. And documents and speeches alone don’t usually solve much. The early Church changed the Empire through martyrs and witnesses, not through documents or speeches. After the persecutions, it succeeded in creating a new mindset regarding issues such as life, money, and violence.
Almost all belief systems are perhaps experiencing a certain regression today; but, in addition, I believe that the Church will lose its dialogue and proposal is not through witnesses: words do not always convince, but examples inspire.
How has the migration problem been experienced in Sarapiquí?
When we arrived in Costa Rica, there were four urban centers in the intermontane valley: Alajuela, Heredia, Cartago, and San José. Now all of that is conurbated; it’s a large metropolitan area filled with migrants from rural areas.
Regarding international communities, the presence of Nicaraguans has been exaggerated. In Puerto Viejo, there are communities along the San Juan River; for the Eucharist, those from the Nicaraguan side, if they have gasoline, come to the celebration. There has always been a fluid and constant relationship, without border controls or questioning each other about passports; these are communities that coexist harmoniously and have almost identical lives.
Nicaraguans got the reputation, but there are many others in Costa Rica as well. The problem is that migrations are judged by their cause and the amount of money people take with them. When we opened the seminary in Pozos de Santa Ana, it was the end of the world. Now it’s one of the richest areas in the country and home to many millionaires from other countries. Migration is a universal and very complex phenomenon.
What has been the interaction between the Recoletos and the Sarapiquí?
At first, the Augustinian Recollects in Sarapiquí lived more like diocesan priests. The ideal or model they received in their formation houses were the missions of the Philippines or China, illustrious, heroic solitaries, isolated by the difficulty of communication and the lack of religious, alone in their posts.
Riofrío was very poorly connected: the hundred kilometers to Alajuela, the headquarters of the Delegation, took more than six hours. Our time was consumed by accompanying the people and by the “pastoral work of the concrete,” the construction projects. And our staff was very unstable until, years later, the Province assigned more religious personnel.
In the 1980s, half a dozen of us Recollects worked very well as a team. We met once a month to spend time together and support one another. In Costa Rica, there was only one booklet on First Communion. Using publications from Spain, we wrote a complete method for the first three levels of Catechesis, two more for preparation for Marriage and Baptism, and a songbook. Later, the Episcopal Conference began issuing its own documents, and we implemented them.
How do you see the future of the Augustinian Recollects in Costa Rica?
I see two limiting factors: our numbers are dwindling and our population is aging, and we need to consider the origins, backgrounds, and perspectives of new vocations. Perhaps in these times, a more rigorous selection process wouldn’t be amiss.
Our bishop of Ciudad Quesada, José Manuel Garita, has often said that he prefers a parish without a priest to one who does more harm than good. In the dichotomy of quantity versus quality, without quality, quantity is useless.
The future is unwritten, but I’ve always thought we should have communities without members holding a canonical pastoral office, because it greatly limits the religious life. Something similar to that of the early Recollects: community and pastoral work, spiritual exercises, talks, sacraments, assisting parish priests… Three or four friars who live the common life and collaborate with the local Church, but not bound by a canonical office.
I also believe it is very important that we reinforce the sense of personal conviction, that all the brothers know how to commit to what they are going to do, say and live.
How is faith lived in Costa Rica today?
In Costa Rica, 52% of the population does not practice any religion, although if asked if they believe in God, 94% say yes; and being in a religion doesn’t necessarily mean believing. If you don’t live what you profess to believe, if your faith isn’t translated into action, it’s a dead faith, it doesn’t exist. They say they have faith, but they live as if they didn’t.
Of the 48% who do practice, slightly more than half claim to practice the bare minimum of the Catholic faith: they baptize their children and take them to First Communion, they get married in the Church, they attend Mass some Sundays… The rest identify as Evangelicals, except for a small minority who practice other religions. The real problem is not this division between Catholics and Evangelicals, but religious indifference, even in countries where the majority of the population says they believe in God.
What would you say as a missionary in this Missionary Year?
We should begin by demystifying the mission. Educating in a school is just as much a mission as preaching in the Amazon rainforest. A mission isn’t something for heroic people going to the ends of the earth; evangelizing in a city can be much more difficult than in any rural or impoverished area.
Everyone has a mission and can feel like a missionary, sent forth: all you have to do is bear witness to Jesus Christ. In Costa Rica, many people follow famous clergy on social media. I always wonder if that sea of followers then reads the Gospel, if in their daily lives they try to align their lives and beliefs with the Gospel of Jesus.
We need to abandon stereotypes and get to the point. The first shock I experienced in Río Frío was that the people who appeared in those missionary stories in the Bulletin of the Province of Saint Nicholas of Tolentine, which I read in seminary, weren’t so different from the people I met every day. Humble people are the same everywhere; their problems are similar. Let each person respond to their call to bear witness to Jesus and their idea of mission, wherever and whenever that may be.
