Mexican Novus Ordo Memories

The Young Church of FEF 

In 2014 my family moved from one Mexican state into another. After a relatively peaceful life, this was a fairly significant change for my life. We used to live close to a big city, in a suburban area. At that point in time everything was getting more expensive, and so we moved to a newer state, into a rural area.  

Many things were different there. For example, in the suburbs we had access to tennis courts, equestrian clubs, large malls, and plenty of supermarkets. The options in this new state were either more rustic or not present at all. 

One of the amenities that was missing was a place to learn catechism. At least one that my parents would approve off. We were already done with communion and confirmation, but my parents were still looking for a place were we could deepen the faith. 

The solution came in a teenager group named F.E.F (families in Faith, but in spanish). The local chapter was ruled by women and each age-group would learn, not form a cleric or learned catechist, but from another teenager. 

Every Thursday we would meet in a dilapidated hotel and gather in the dusty, rusty playground. The teenager organizer would have been given instructions on a different game or activity to play that would teach us a message. They would often be about generic novus ordo stuff like friendship and making community.

I also remember we prayed one decade of a rosary made of balloons and were given information about the Divine Mercy devotion. 

FEF was actually very fun, but there was nothing special about it. Being organized in the name of a false religion added many difficulties to it's quality, making it a glorified teenage social club. 

Retreat

One day we took a retreat. It was more like WYD without dancing bishops and loud concerts.

The place was the garden of some sort of warehouse, full of trees and mosquitos. After being done with the installation of sleeping tents, we played organized games with other kids and held conversations meant to be deep. Our mothers would be cooking multiple meals for us through the day. 

When the evening fell and the sky turned blue, all of us were gathered around a concrete area. A picture of our family was given to us, and we were told to always keep them close. Some people said emotional stuff and prayers. 

Then we roasted marshmallows. The conversations were great. It was indeed, a fun social club. The night, however, was long and harsh for a variety of reasons. From example, a light from the warehouse was blasting our tent from behind. 

Next morning we took breakfast and played for a while, but everyone was sleepy. At some point we were gathered below the trees. Sitting on plastic chairs we were given a conference on the Real Presence. The woman was emotional and heavily motivated. She repeated the apologist mantra of "scientifically proven" NO Eucharistic miracles, to an audience of sleeping teenagers.

It was Sunday, so we were going to the mass service. Well, actually, the mass service was coming to us. Lots of people suddenly arrived, including a cleric. Many of use were sitting on the ground as the service was being prepared, in the literal woods, over a plastic table. I didn't wanted to go to the service, so when my mother noticed I was tired we left. 

I do find it quite ironic, that after such a passionate defense of the real presence, we would offer mass in an horchard for literally no reason. 

Migrants

One of the most interesting anecdotes I got to tell about this group has to do with migrants. In the village were we lived in there was a railway, and many of them would often appear in the streets. Sun cooked, mutilated, and consumed, they would beg for food or money, only to be ignored or insulted. The majority of them were from central america (El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Belize, etc) Some of them would show their identification cards, most would send you blessings if you gave them stuff. 

Close to the railway an organization for them was set. It would offer them food, water and showers, as well as a place to sleep. One day, we went to visit that locale with the FEF people. 

It was a chill November evening, yellow sun and orange skies. The railway was set in the hills, and besides it there was a small stone hut full of food. 

The guy responsible for the area told us multiple things, all of which are greatly interesting. 

He told us that his organization was given a white van from Germany for their migrant welfare mission. Many migrants from Africa or the Middle East would visit Mexico and then go to the United States. 

And for some reason he was really upset with migrants who wanted to stay in the village. He told us he would incite them to continue their travel to the US. 

On retrospective this makes me very angry. Manipulating them into continuing a dangerous trip. It feels like he helped them because he wanted Mexico to be free from their presence, all the while dumping them to the US. If they wanted to stay in the village, it was probably because they were tired of traveling and wanted to send money to their countries as soon as possible. Considering they knew their needs better than the "charity", why were they forced out? 

The possibility of this guy being involved into human trafficking should also be taken into consideration. 

While an excess of migrants could harm our village, i am pretty sure most of them would continue to the US anyway. 

The train approached, and a woman got a series of plastic bags and was ready to throw it to whichever poor soul was hiding on the metallic dragon. 

The train was rushing, so the travellers weren't able to descend and get the benefits themselves. I am kinda glad they didn't. Can you imagine being a migrant on a train, starved and in poor condition, only to be received by a bunch of rich novus ordo kids going to see you like one goes to see animals in a Safari? My brother  compares it with looking at them like they were monkeys getting fed on a zoo. 

The woman wasn't even able to aim correctly. The bag hit the train and it fell violently upon the gravel. 

When the visit was over I found it to be moving and emotional, but now I realize how uncomfortable it must have been for everyone involved.