He called himself a simple onion farmer, a Mayan Indian with four kids and a fourth-grade education.

U.S. prosecutors knew better.

By his late 30s, Felipe Diego Alonzo had built a crime route stretching from Central America to Texas, allegedly paying off Mexican drug cartels along the way. He tooled around Guatemala’s western highlands in a loaded silver Ford Ranger pickup. When the police finally raided his ranch, they found a study in rural narco-chic: wooden chalets, a swimming pool, a show horse valued at $100,000.

What they didn’t find was a narco. Alonzo’s business “was more profitable than drug trafficking,” said one of the Guatemalan officials who detained him.

Alonzo was moving people.

Read it all.

As smuggling rings made billions from migrants, the U.S. was sidelined https://t.co/QKiCwSIpZx

— Mary Beth Sheridan (@marybsheridan) November 1, 2024

San Pedro, Guatemala

This town of 10,000 was built on a peninsula of Lake Atitlán, one of the deepest in the world. Fishermen in wooden boats drift along the shores of the volcano-ringed lake, while women in bright multicolored skirts wash clothes along its banks. The mostly indigenous Mayans here have little to do with the urban culture of the capital city 125 miles away.

Yet this isolated mountain town is more cosmopolitan than it seems: Most every waterfront restaurant here offers a menu in Hebrew. The story of San Pedro is also the story of the unlikely but deep friendship between Israel and Guatemala.

About 15 years ago Israelis began building sprawling hostels in San Pedro. Today they accommodate hundreds of Israeli tourists, while Israeli investors are building a luxury hotel at the head of Lake Atitlán.

Read it all

In an area of much killing where I was supporting reconciliation some years ago, I spent time with a group of Anglican priests. Several thousand people had been killed in heavy fighting during the previous week. It was the second outburst of fighting in less than ten years. The priests were bitter, mourning families, friends and church members. One gave up preaching and used the time for the sermon explaining how to strip, clean and reassemble an automatic rifle. Over a few months we worked together, thinking and praying about the situation, about the very real threats they faced, about the history of battle, and about the teaching of scripture, especially in Jonah. Slowly they learned afresh that they were loved, and learned to love and began to reach out to their enemies. The reconciliation remains fragile, but continues to this day.

We change our conflicted communities when we rediscover reconciliation in Christ for ourselves. Paul reminds the divided Ephesians that God breaks down all barriers. They are reconciled through the cross to God and are to be reconciled to others. It is costly. Reconciliation is cross-shaped. Justice is cross shaped. Churches that seek justice will find a cross, and will need to bear it. So many of you have done that. So many not only here in Guatemala, but elsewhere in the Province, know the pain of conflict. And yet we have the answer ”“ and that answer is us, says Paul. It is extraordinary, because again he was speaking to a small church in a very pagan society, and yet he was right, and history proved it over the centuries.

Read it all.