As a pastor in Chicago,
I earned about the same as a Catholic school teacher. Plus I had health
insurance, a furnished place to live at the rectory and my food was paid for.
When I add up my salary and consider the value of a free place to live plus
food and auto insurance- and add to that the gift income I received from
weddings and at Christmas, I figure I earned, before taxes, the equivalent of the
median household income in the US
(which was $51,000 in 2012, before taxes). Sure, I can find ways to discount
that amount: I worked long hours; I had just one day off per week; and while I
had a free place to live, it was “above the store,” and much of the space was
shared with my brother priests. But I could not complain. And to be honest,
those who saw the rectory I was living in would likely say that I had an upper
class living situation. In addition, I had a small cottage that I made mortgage
payments on, drove a nice car, took nice vacations. I tithed, giving a tenth of
my income to charity, but still managed a comfortable lifestyle.
Here in Guatemala
I figure that my salary, not including the benefits of having a place to live
and food in the mess hall, is the equivalent of what six or seven of the
average employees here earn. I don’t have access to the salary amount of the
professional staff, but of the 140 people who work here only about 15 or 20 are
professionals. My salary is about the same as it was when I was at the parish,
which makes me, I suspect, the richest guy around. I do have additional
expenses, including some food and transportation costs (flights home, rental
cars, etc). I sold my car before coming here, so at least I am not making that
monthly payment. I still make mortgage payments on my cottage, but there is a
little rental income for that that helps.
I try to be conscious of my consumption, and avoid being
conspicuous about it. My living conditions are fine- although I may whine about
rain coming through the roof or a shower without much hot water. Every month or
so I drive forty minutes to a grocery store that is similar to a store we might
have in Chicago. But I am hesitant to buy things that might appear ostentatious
to people whose salary is $4000/year, or to kids who own nothing but some personal
hygiene articles and the clothing on their backs and in their lockers. (I have
put off buying a television, for example.) In town, the lack of means is even
more vivid. I have been to lunch at homes with dirt floors where the kitchen
was an outdoor lean-to with a cauldron over a wood fire. At Mass, many of the older
Mayan women approach the altar for communion without shoes, their feet and toes
gnarled from years of working in the fields. The yoghurt and cheese and chicken
breast I keep in my fridge would all be considered luxury items to most here. Some
things cost less here than in the US, but not that much less. And
prices at the grocery store and the WalMart and Sears in the capital are
equivalent to what I’d pay at home.
When I negotiated my salary to come here, I made the
decision that anything above and beyond what I needed to make ends meet would
go right back to the children.
Whenever I am with others, I feel like it is my
responsibility to pick up the tab. I buy things for the kids on occasion-
ordering pizzas (they have a Domino’s about 20 minutes away), bringing coffee
cakes and OJ when visiting the high school houses, covering expenses for the
religion programming, etc. (some of those who donated to the chapel account
told me that I can use their donations for other needs here as I see fit, and I
have been judicious about that…) I used much of my own money to construct the
apartment I am living in, as I felt that anything the house here spends on me
is food out of the mouths of the kids. I was told that I could charge my
groceries to the house, but have opted not to do so.
More recently, people have been asking me to lend them
money. The requests are pretty modest, rarely for more than $15- which is the
equivalent of a day’s wage for many here. If I were not concerned that word
would get out and result in a line of people requesting hand-outs, I would not
ask people to pay me back. In fact, I have set up a small “bank” of about $300
that I use to lend from. If there is money there, I can lend it out. If not,
people need to wait until others pay me back so that I can lend it again. Requests
have been to help pay rent (parishioners in town), for medicine (employees),
for birthday gifts for siblings, for costs associated with high school. I know
I need to keep an eye on this, though, to ensure that it does not get out of
hand. It feels strange being seen as the guy with the money, but that is, in
fact, what I am from their perspective. People have asked me to fund surgical
procedures, hearing aids, and even help spirit away to the USA someone who
felt he was in danger here.
Having something nice puts you under the spotlight. To the
kids’ credit, they seem to take in stride that fact that the foreigners working
and volunteering here have access to money. There is certainly an expectation
that you share. Unfortunately, the kids do rob both each other and the home quite
a bit (tennis shoes, pens, hair gel, cameras, cell phones, clothing… If someone
sees something nice, he might steal it and then sell it to an extern student,
who can then sell it in town). They have not robbed me yet (except for a set of
Harry Potter videos that “disappeared” after being lent out). Some kids carry a
backpack at all times, containing any personal items or things they deem
valuable. The idea of having something nice and keeping it just for your own
use is a foreign concept here. If a high school or university student has a
radio or a cell phone with internet access (there is wifi on campus), these are
automatically shared. Even at meals- if a child loses or forgets to bring up
his bowl, spoon or cup, others share theirs without batting an eye. If someone
has a little money and can buy food or soda from outside, it is a given that it
will be shared. Even beds are sometimes shared (the conditions of some of the mattresses
are pretty horrible).
People who know me know that I like nice things. I like to
live “graciously,” and enjoy “the finer things in life.” I eat at restaurants
more than many people, I suspect. I have had the privileges of travel that
would be luxuries even to many of my American friends. I will be curious to see
how two-and-a-half years of living in Guatemala affects my relationship
with material items once I return. Maybe I will go hog-wild, trying to make up
for lost time. More likely, I expect I will try to simplify things a bit. The
general rule of thumb is that a priest should live around the level of the
community he is serving. The pastor of a parish in Pilsen would be wise to
avoid driving a BMW; the pastor of a parish in Lake Forest would cause scandal if he drove a
“beater.” Pope Francis made headlines
when he challenged priests on the cars that they drive.
Obviously, the externals are not what is most important-
what counts is our internal, personal relationship with “things” and our
attachment to them. For those who have little or nothing, even thinking about
this kind of relationship is a luxury. Yet I have known people of modest means
who seem overly preoccupied with the accumulation of material goods; and I have
known affluent people who display a remarkable level of non-attachment to the
things that they own. I think it is important to avoid putting people in boxes
where this issue is concerned.
For now I need to accept that as an American and as someone
with some nicer things than others here, I am seen as one of the richest guys
around.
