by Mr. Patrick Rogers, SJ

A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile ...

A guitar is quietly playing Don McLean's song, "American Pie," on a warm, lazy Mexico City afternoon. The time is the summer of '99; the musician is Stephen Jaditz, a junior at the Jesuits' Scranton Prep in Scranton, Pa.

Stephen is involved in the school's Los Hermanos Summer Service Program in which teams of Scranton juniors go every year to work for a month at the Internado Infantile Guadalupano, an orphanage on Mexico City's southeast side.

This crew from Scranton Prep journeyed with author Pat Rogers, SJ, and Ignacio Sepulveda, SJ, to Mexico City last summer to make a little difference in the lives of orphans at the Internado Infantile Guadalupano. It was back in '79 that Scranton students first traveled to the orphanage and perhaps had their group picture taken at these ruins outside the city.

None of the young men who flew to Mexico with regent Ignacio Sepulveda, SJ, and me this past summer had even been born when the first group of Scranton Prep students set out on their pilgrimage to the Internado in 1979. Yet these two groups of pilgrims are connected, as are all the groups from Scranton who went in the intervening years, for they have shared an experience that continues to unfold blessings in their lives. I know this from the heartfelt letters that past participants of Los Hermanos mail to us. One came from an alumnus in the armed forces stationed in Bosnia who wanted us to know how the experience had profoundly affected his life even after so many years. There is a constant that binds all of those who have ventured from Scranton Prep to that orphanage: a sense of blessings given and received.

One blessing we received in Mexico was the gift of music. After a long day of work, we would gather on our spacious porch to laugh, joke, and sing and play guitar, everything from Sugar Ray and Dave Matthews to James Taylor, Van Morrison, and Crosby, Stills, and Nash.

There was one song, however, that became our song: Don McLean's "American Pie." For us, this song was the high point of our musical time together, the last one we played and sang before heading off to bed.

And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance McLean's song runs. To be given the opportunity to serve is itself a gift, one that unfolds rich blessings in the life to the giver. Service seems to be a simple concept: one goes and gives and leaves the place or the people a little better off than before. In reality, it is much more complicated than that. Oftentimes motives are mixed. But, as McLean muses, something touched me deep inside; the movement of the Spirit, the recognition of grace. At a deep level these young men from Scranton Prep felt that same spirit, felt they had something to give away and maybe something to receive as well.

The intense Mexican sun nearly blinds us as we wait for Brothers Marco, Andres, and Francisco, three of the Christian Brothers who run the orphanage, to complete the roll call and send the boys off to breakfast.

Don McLean's "American Pie" became the song for a group of Scranton Prep students who volunteered for a month at a Mexican orphanage last summer, a school tradition that is over twenty years old.

In spite of the sun there is a definite coolness in the morning air. Some of us wrap our arms around ourselves to ward off the chill. Another day begins at the Internado. Hermano Marco asks if the last group of boys are all accounted for.

"Terminales?" he bellows.

"Completo" is the welcome response. We move into the cafeteria for breakfast.

Matthew Kelly asks me groggily if there is any cereal. I tell him that we will have to wait and see. He jokes half-heartedly, "You don't understand, Brother Pat. I really don't know how I'll survive without my morning cereal and the sports page."

Giving up such familiarity is part of the cost of discipleship, as is being away from home and family and friends. If there ever was a time for the cultivation of a faith life, this was it. Do you have faith in God above? McLean asks us. "Yes" was our reply. We were overwhelmed, excited, flowing with the grace that was pouring out in this blessed place, having faith that we would somehow more than survive, we would thrive.

Another challenge our team faced was the loss of privacy. We had to do everything--work, play, sleep, eat, shower--together. Seven guys to a room gets crowded very fast. We also had to adjust to a different climate, language, and foods. Having a big appetite but looking at a plate of cactus, tripe, goat's milk, and rice and beans was not easy. Those first days were tough, particularly for those of us who spoke little or no Spanish. "It's difficult to leave behind family and friends and to go to a country where everything is so different," says Christopher Sibley. On the other hand, he and Matthew agree that giving up comforts was a small price to pay for the blessings received from the Los Hermanos Experience.

Teaching English was the hardest and the most rewarding of our daily assignments. All of our creative instincts came out as we plotted our daily course and bounced teaching ideas off of each other. Matthew Mullock and Charlie Dotter taught the sixth graders rap phrases and lots of useful American sayings like "What's up?" Christopher Sibley and Matthew Kelly taught fourth graders some dialogue from movies, including the summer hit The Phantom Menace. Colin O'Boyle, Zachary Freach, and Stephen Jaditz taught the primary grades the ABC's and some simple English phrases. They came up with many creative ways to keep the kids' attention while giving them basic English skills.

The boys at the Internado generally enjoyed our classes and would practice what they had learned all day long. It was fun to hear them trying out different sayings on us and on their friends.

Moving from classroom to classroom was Spanish-speaking Ignacio Sepulveda, SJ. Ignacio, from Chile, teaches Spanish at Scranton Prep and coordinates and leads the Los Hermanos Project. He helped out when students or teachers were faltering.

Did you write the book of love? McLean asks in his song. No, those of us from Scranton Prep did not, but the connections, the bonds we developed with the boys at the orphanage came right out of those pages. Our relationships with the boys were strengthened during weekly sightseeing tours or mountaineering expeditions. The youngest boys, those between seven and ten, would hang all over us as we walked through the zoo or scrambled up whatever volcano we were out to conquer that day. The Scranton crew would be wrapped up in youngsters who just wanted to be held.

At the zoo on one of these trips you could see Stephen navigating the crowds and exhibits with one boy under each arm and holding hands with two others who would pull him in different directions. Stephen spoke no Spanish, but this did not faze the kids who were going to show their new American brother a good time at the zoo!

It was a busy day for all. Scranton students teach English at the orphanage during the week and then help conduct weekend trips to the mountains, the zoo, and other fun and tiring places. "These trips gave us opportunities to exercise our heart muscles" says the author.

Then there was Colin, the watcher and keeper of the little ones. Tall and ruddy, unassuming Colin would oftentimes carry the smaller boys who had trouble keeping up; he was the St. Christopher of the Internado. And we all became human pillows as the exhausted boys snoozed on the bus ride home.

These trips gave us opportunities to exercise our heart muscles; the boys of the Internado were undeniable in the love that they sought and the love that they gave. Everything was right there out in the open. There just was no time for trepidation of spirit in this place.

Matthew Mullock developed a special relationship with Rodrigo, a real handful of a kid with a mouth that would make a dockworker blush. But Matthew had a way of bringing out the best in Rodrigo, and Rodrigo did the same for Matthew. They ended up inseparable.

Zach was the one who could get along with the older boys. This crew, in their late teens and early twenties, would try to trick us into saying something embarrassing or obscene in Spanish. Zach, who exercised his knack for defusing situations like these, won them over with the power of kindness.

It was Charlie Dotter who, one rainy evening, gave his prized "Fightin' Irish" sweatshirt to Jesœs, drenched and shivering in the cold night air. Charlie never asked for it back; he was plain delighted that Jesœs wore it every day for the rest of our sojourn.

The Christian Brothers who ran Internado impressed us by their simple lifestyle and the love they showed to all the boys of the Internado. "They were parents, friends, confidants, teammates, and coaches who played all their roles effortlessly," is how Colin remembers it. Their witness had a powerful effect on all of us from Scranton; we were humbled by these dedicated servants of Christ.

When Ignacio and I set out on this pilgrimage, neither of us imagined what grace was to fill our hearts during our stay in Mexico and beyond. As Jesuits we aspire to become men who facilitate the coming of Christ's kingdom here on earth. The Los Hermanos program gave us the chance to witness untold blessings in our lives and in the lives of those we accompanied. For us, the most rewarding part of the journey was in watching these seven extraordinary young men open up their hearts and minds to a reality that was not their own and embrace it in the spirit of Christian love. In turn they were blessed by the boys' unconditional love and acceptance. Blessings given and received.

And what of Don McLean and "American Pie"? Well, let's just say that the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost didn't catch the last train for the coast, as the song would have it. They remain with us to this very day.

Patrick Rogers, SJ, in studies at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley, Calif., is an avid sports junkie and a clarinetist who also plays guitar and sings opera.