By Fr Pat Sayles

Seventy – Five Years Ago Edward Galvin set out for China

It was a step into the unknown, a step taken in faith. God had called him, and he wanted so much to respond, to follow his Lord even to the ends of the earth. Yet he found it so hard to leave his loved ones, especially his mother. He loved her more than all the world and perhaps he was going to China never to see her again. Although heartbroken, he resolutely set his face towards China. So began one of the most exciting pages of modern mission history. His exploits inspired many talented young men to follow him along the trail to China that he had blazed.

Edward Galvin was born in 1882 on the feast of St Columban, at the Galvin homestead near Newcestown, a little village in Ireland four miles south of Clodah, Co Cork.

As a young boy he dreamt of becoming a missionary. He did feel at the time that it was just a boyish thought, but as he grew older the thought persisted. Finally his parents advised him to go to Maynooth, to become a priest for his home diocese of Cork. This he did, and as it turned out it was the right decision.

He was ordained in 1909, only to find that there was no room in Cork for the newly-ordained men that year. Along with the other newly-ordained he volunteered for Brooklyn in the States. He was assigned to Holy Rosary parish, and whilst there he twice asked to be accepted as missionary, first in Africa, then in Arizona. Strangely, no one seemed to want him. Yet still the missionary call within him would not die. Eventually his thoughts turned to China. He began to read every book on it that he could find. At that time there were only three English-speaking priests working in the whole of that vast land. He did not know one of them. Then out of the blue Father Fraser, a Canadian missionary working in China, came to visit the Holy Rosary parish.

There and then he made up his mind that he would go with him to China. ‘I may never get another chance,’ he thought to himself. ‘I will go to China with you, ‘he spoke out loud, ‘if you will have me.’ The offer was immediately accepted, but Father Fraser was leaving the China within three weeks. That did not deter Father Galvin. ‘I might change my mind if left behind,’ he in a few weeks he himself would be returning to Cork to work in the diocese. He had to hurry and ask his Bishop’s permission for this new venture.

The reply came promptly. The reports that the Bishop had received about him were ‘the very best.’ He could follow his dream.

So finally the missionary dream that would not go away was to become a reality. After a lifetime’s search he had found his way to follow the Lord. Now, at the age of 29, he was ready to face the rigors of the China missions.

Those last three weeks at Holy Rosary were topsy-turvy. A sad stream of friends called to say goodbye. The parish priest tried to persuade him to stay, saying that he had become like a son to him in his old age. Weeping parishioners thronged to Grand Central Station in New York to see him off.

‘I still remember the pain of parting on that grey, dreary morning,' he wrote many years later. ‘When the train got underway for Toronto, I crumpled up in the coach and cried as if my heart would break.'

Father John Blowick, who together with Father Galvin was to found the Columbans, described that moment:

‘He supported his head in his hands, and for two hours his mind was a blank. He had of his own election become a wanderer for Christ’s sake. For all he knew he was going to China to die.’

Bishop Cleary, one of the early figures in Columban history, also recorded that moment:

‘It is no easy matter to part from home and friends under any circumstances: it was particularly trying in Father Galvin’s case. He was facing an unknown world; trials and hardship were before him – but these he regarded as nothing. The thought that almost unnerved him was the fact that never again, perhaps, would he see one of those faces he held so dear, never again get a glimpse of the land he loved. Was it any wonder then that as the train sped across the continent to Vancouver he flung himself into the corner of a carriage and wept like a child?’

As the train sped across Canada his thoughts turned to his mother. He had to write to her, but it was a letter he did not want to write. Mary Galvin was three thousand miles away across the Atlantic. She was looking forward to his next letter, which should have news of the date of his return to Cork.

When he arrived in Toronto he stayed up all that night to write the letter to his mother that it broke his heart to write. He did not have the heart to post it until much later, when they arrived in Honolulu. It was a letter that Mary Galvin would treasure until the day she died.

‘My dear Mother,

I am sorry, dear Mother, to have to write this letter, but God’s will be done. Everything is in His hands. Mother, don’t grieve, don’t cry. It is God’s will. God has called and I had to obey.

I am not going back to Ireland. I am going as a missionary to China. May God’s will be done. God knows my heart is broken, not for myself but for you whom I love above all the world.

Mother, you know how this has always been on my mind. But I thought it was a foolish thought – a boyish thought; that it would pass away as I grew older. But it never passed, never, never, never.

Why should God ask me to do this thing that is breaking my heart to do? I don’t know. God knows best. May His will be done. ‘If any man will come after me let him take up his cross and follow me.’ Oh yes, but oh my God I never thought that it was so hard to follow. I have tried to follow when you called. I ask you in return to console my poor mother, to comfort her, to help her to make the Sacrifice I am making and spare her until we meet again.’

It was a clear morning when Mary Galvin received her son’s long overdue letter. After she had read it she went out into the orchard and walked around in a daze.

On March 7th, 1912, they sailed from Vancouver on the Empress of India, a small steamer that carried only thirty passengers. It proved to be a very slow boat to China. They were hardly out of the harbor when a violent storm began to toss the ship about like a cork. They just managed to crawl back to the safety of the poor. When they finally sailed again it was to be the worst voyage that theEmpress has suffered in years. Father Galvin was sick throughout the month-long voyage.

They arrived in Shanghai in the middle of April. That night they stayed in the Lazarists’ house. The meal was Chinese macaroni, and Fr. Galvin fumbled with his chopsticks, to the amusement of the others. He lay awake that night, unable to sleep on the plank bed. The next day they traveled to the Hangshow, and the day after Fr. Fraser left him. Suddenly he felt very lonely. All the priest there were French, and with no one to talk with English he felt ‘as lonely a small boy in a new school.’ The Vicar Msgr. Faveau , was very understanding, and he help him to settle in.

Despite the initial culture shock, he began to study the language in earnest. He had a musical ear, and was a natural mimic, and he progressed easily. On October 12th 1912, he heard his first confession in Chinese, and just a week later he preached his first sermon.

In spite of the hardship he found an immense joy in serving his poor flock. Leaving his loved ones had been difficult, but he would do it a thousand times over. He thanked God from the bottom of his heart. For the great privilege of being a missionary.

In doing God’s will he had found himself and his joy is overflowing. He had put God’s will before all else in his life. When he became a Bishop he took his motto those word of the Father’- Thy Will be done. He lived his motto all through his life. Through famines, wars, imprisonment, and exile, he carried out God’s will with single - minded apostolic zeal. He faced all the dangers with courage, all the hardships with resilience. His spirit of endurance remained steadfast because the trail he blazed was opened not for his own but for the Lord’s glory.