By Gee-Gee O. Torres

Fr. Philomeno Mahusay is from La Castellana, Negros Occidental. He was the first member of the Missionary Society of Philippine Bishops to be sent on mission abroad. He has been on mission inThailand for almost 25 years now. We also have Sr. Mercedes Dagoob, dc from Iloilo who has been there since 1969. Our editorial assistant, Gee-Gee Torres, visited them in Thailand. Here she tells us of this encounter.

I first met my guide-to-be, Fr. Leo Ochoa, sdb from Isabela, Negros Occidental, in Udonthani. Chaiyaphum was the first on our itinerary. This was the place where Fr. Phil is at present. We called him from Udon and asked if we could possibly see him. He said, “Great. Come over right away.”

Visit to Chaiyaphum

We almost got lost on our way to Chaiyaphum. Fr. Leo admitted that this was the first time he’d gone to Fr. Phil’s place. Luckily Fr. Leo had brought his comprehensive road map. Anyway we couldn’t have missed it because Fr. Phil was right there at the entrance of his farm standing along the road waiting for us. When we came to stop, he jumped on the hood and shouted “Sige na. Sige na.” as he waved his hand up on the air directing Fr. Leo. Fr. Leo behind the steering wheel was also shouting him teasingly. “Ano man ni ang imo lugar man.” It was a complete riot having the three of us Negrenses together.

Ambush Interview

He gave us a quick tour around the places as it was almost 6 in the evening. Then we had dinner. Thanks to Sr. Mercedes Dagoob for the delicious dinner. I really enjoyed the spicy sinigang with fresh eel from their own fishpond. After dinner I began my interview with Fr. Phil. it wasn’t easy because Fr. Leo and Fr. Phil were exchanging stories while the interview was going on. They where like friends who haven’t seen each other for years. The interview took so long that I had to ask a cup of salabat(ginger tea) just to keep myself awake and gather enough data for an article in Misyon. So here it is.

First Assignment

Fr. Phil’s first assignment was in a parish. It wasn’t easy to work far away from home and live in a Buddhist community; with very few Christians around it can be a very lonely life. He searched out immigrant Catholics who had moved from other places and looked after them carefully, visiting them house-to-house. In his whole parish maybe he had only 30 parishioners at one stage. However this didn’t discourage him in pursuing his mission.

Farming Project

Tapioka is the main crop in the village where he was assigned. The people were in the hands of loan sharks and could not escape from them. He got involved in farming in an attempt to help the people out of this quagmire. With the help of foreign aid, he bought a piece of land and started farming projects – orchard, ricefield, sugarcane field, spices and herbs, fishpond. These projects alleviated the lives of the people and helped them to escape from the burden of debt.

As the years went by, Fr. Phil continually reflected on what a missionary ought to be doing. He decided to put the emphasis on the words of our Lord: “Whatever you do to the least of my brethren you do it to me.” and to give witness to Christ’s presence looking after the poorest of the poor. And in his present parish in Chaiyaphum he discovered that the poorest of the poor turned out to be the tragic HIV victims and those with AIDS. Hence he has begun a program to look after people with AIDS.

Fr. Phil tours Gee-Gee around the farm.

Human Touch

He could have set up a sort of hospital where victims could be given full and complete medical care. But he opted to put up Mary’s Help Center were the staff will visit the patients in their own homes. They may be given the latest technological help in the hospital, but how about the human touch and affection? Fr. Phil felt that this care and affection is better given in their own homes.

He invited the Daughters of Charity to come to the parish. Three Filipino Sisters, Srs. Mercedes Dagoob & Mae Alere from Iloilo and Francesca Bagalso from Laguna are helping him in his work. There I met Sr. Mercedes, another Ilonggo. She was one among the four pioneers of their Congregation to be sent to Thailand.

I asked her how she feels about her work. She said, “I find fulfillment in my work. In my 20 years of taking care of leprosy patients, I learned how to be a nurse and a doctor at the same time. Some patients who came to the clinic felt desolate to the point of committing suicide. We make them feel important and loved and because of this they eventually realize the value of life and find meaning in it. Some of them even became Catholics.”

Sr. Mercedes tells Gee-Gee what its like to be a missionary in Thailand

Abilities not Disabilities

She has also worked with the handicapped and disabled. She learned so much about patience in dealing with them. They walk very slowly; they move very slowly. “During meetings, you cannot expect them to come on time,” she said.” You just have to wait for them. What I do is to focus on their abilities and not on their disabilities. One time I asked one of the handicapped people, "Why aren’t you studying well?” she answered that the time has not yet come. This struck me.” Today this girl employed as a staff member in a foundation for the disabled which makes handicraft products.

A Road Less Traveled

At present Sr. Mercedes is in Chaiyaphum helping Fr. Phil in his AIDS program. She together with the other sisters does house-to-house visitation, encouraging people to look after AIDS victims in their own homes and then helping them to do so with advice and support. They talk and listen to their stories. The patients appreciate the time they spend with them for their presence only shows that people still care.

Fr. Phil and Sr. Mercedes live for the service of these AIDS victims. I suppose we can call this a road less traveled.

Planting rice is always fun for Fr. Phil

Today Thailand is one of the worst AIDS disaster areas in Asia. Official figure from the health minister show that there are about 1 million HIV positive people in Thailand of which 50, 000 have AIDS

The growth industry in Thailand today is crematoria for the AIDS victims.

By Sr. Maria Ellazar fmm

India is a vast country with over 800 million people. When Sr. Maria Ellazar, fmm went there 30 years ago, she was overwhelmed by the different exotic cultures and the sense of uprooting which she experienced as she was assigned in new places. Her big fear was not being accepted. Now she looks back and sees all this as a gift from God.

First Assignment

My first assignment was in New Delhi, the capital of India where I spent 10 years in Mater Dei School run by our Congregation, the Franciscans. The school is open to all Christian, Hindus, Muslims, Parsees. Though it is a Catholic school, the majority of our students are Hindus.

Mission in Goa

The life of a missionary is not confined to a particular place, Jesus himself said so. The next two yeas I found myself in Goa, on the West Coast of India, which had been a colony of the Portuguese for many years. Goa resembles the Philippines in some aspect like the beaches, sea, coconut trees. A priest returning from his visit to the Philippines told his friends that life in the Philippines is like Goa, fiesta and siesta.

Uprooted and Replanted

My two years in Goa passed very fast, and then another uprooting took place and I found myself inBombay. So here I am from 1979 up to now. Bombay is a cosmopolitan city, over populated, highly populated, noisy and dirty as there are many slums all over the place. I was assigned in Villa Theresa High School, where I did administrative work besides teaching faith formation and values education, we have around 1, 300 students from kindergarten to high school and some 80 students are Catholic mostly from very poor families. Most of the other students are Hindus from wealthy families.

Break the Barrier

It is painful to see poor children being discriminated against. This barrier has to be broken. It is our goal to bring about mutual acceptance among our students regardless of castle and creed or social status. Surely the little seed sown in their hearts during their stay with us will bear fruit later in life. The rich are taught to appreciate what they have and share it with the poor and the needy.

Perhaps you may wonder what is our purpose in running a Catholic institution when the percentage of Catholics is not even 5%. Well, the Church in India considers education as its main ministry. For me as a religious I can communicate something of my experiences in Christ through my attitudes and values. What better way can I witness my Christian vocation to my non-Christian brothers and sisters except living out my faith, to be a sign of life, hope and joy since I cannot speak to the students directly about Christ?

Teaching to Sharing

One of the greatest challenges to our apostolate today is that of finding ways to serve the poor when we work among the comfortable and well to do. The challenge is to motivate the students to share, to broaden their thinking and to stimulate their good will. We are concerned with an education by which character is formed, strength of mind is developed, the intellect is expanded and one can stand on one’s own feet. An education which will help them to become responsible citizens of tomorrow. In spite of the tragic time we live in, it is our hope that our students will grow up to be caring and loving persons, ready to reach out to their sisters and brothers who live on the edge of life.

For the sake of India

I marvel at the innocence, laughter and creativity of the children as they grow from the tiny tots of the kindergarten into self-conscious teenagers. It is our prayer that the spirit they have developed towards others will overflow into the outside world that they step into and that God who guides the destiny of each one of us will guide them to make their unique contribution to India.

When he looks back now, Fr. Frank Pintac remembers that he was fascinated by the wall charts and shapes of toys when he first went to school. Soon after that his mother died when he was seven, and he went to live with relatives in Aurora in Mindanao in the Southern Philippines. It was there that his associations with the Columbans began and two of his childhood friends and guides were Frs. Joe Murtagh and Martin Noone. He got as far as London on his way to visit the latter when he heard of his death last February.

Priesthood

He studied for the priesthood for the diocese of Pagadian and after ordination worked in a parish and on the seminary staff. Later he did post-graduate studies in Organization and Management with a view to bring more expertise to the organization of Basic Christian Communities.

Volunteer Missionary

Seven years ago he volunteered to join the Columban Priest Associate programme and was assigned to Brazil and the diocese of Juazeiro. A few years ago, a fellow Columban missionary, asked him if he would try his hand at painting Bom Jesus, the good Lord Jesus the image of Christ much venerated in Brazil’s Northeast, on a wall in his parish. He had never painted murals but he decided to have a go at it. Painting has now become part of his missionary work.

Teaching in Painting

People now flock to see his paintings. Even some Evangelicals, who normally are not over enthusiastic about images, come along to view. One of the favorite saints, Anthony Padua, is there in bright colours, Frank’s pictures beautify, they also teach. For people who think Mary as only a queen it is a surprise to see her like themselves, with a brush in her hand. Their own lives in the fields may not be so different to that Joseph at his carpenter’s bench.

Bible and Paint Brush

There are other reasons too why he uses the brush as well as the Bible to preach gospel.  The landscape around his parish of Casa Nova is brown and dry. Color brings brightness and joy. And, as in ages past, were there is a high percentage of illiteracy, pictures are still worth a thousand words [Far East]

By Fr. Abe Sumalinog mssc

I’m now a missionary in Korea. Some years back before my ordination I did my Overseas Training Program here in Korea. That included going to the language school to learn Korean – the hardest part of the training. The Korean language is based on an alphabet like our own languages in the Philippines but it also uses Chinese ideographs or characters which are whole words in themselves; there are 30, 000 Chinese characters so you can imagine the challenge and the confusion for  foreigners trying to read Korean. One has to learn two different and difficult languages at the one time!

Cultural Independence

The Korean alphabet was invented by King Sejong in the 13th century. Experts reckoned that the letters were derived from the lip and tongue formation. It has 14 consonants and 10 vowels. It is a tongue-twister language so you need a lot of air reserve to emphasize your words. The alphabet emerged at approximately the same time that European writers of the Renaissance were breaking away from Latin and beginning to write in their national languages. At this time, Korean writers began to renounce their cultural dependence on Chinese culture and the Chinese language.

Mission is Language Learning

Most people say that mission is being with the people, working with them and doing apostolate with them. But I realized that learning the language itself is already a mission or an apostolate. Language bears the total identity and culture of the people. While I was learning the language in school I learned more and understood more of the Korean way of living and their way of relating with others. Their language expresses their history, culture, and ways of thinking. It was difficult because I had to put aside my own prejudices, some habits and even my own culture in order to learn to cope up with another one.

Learning to Love Kimchi

But the most cultural thing in this pluralistic world is food. And most of my shocks when I first came to Korea were more physiological rather than psychological. I had to adjust to four different seasons and I had to learn to like new and strange foods. The most popular food in Korea is Kimchi – dried seaweed but it looked mashed and fried avocado leaves. I am not doing justice to it because there are hundreds of different menus for Kimchi. Now that I actually enjoy it means I am beginning to be inculturated. A good sign!

By Columban Naw Sang

It is no accident that the author of this article is named Columban. For many years before the war the Columban missionaries worked among the Kachins. Today foreign missions are not welcome but their message has flowered. And so this Kachin Catholic seminarian in Burma feels God spared his life so that he could serve others.

Gunfire Memories

My earliest memories are of war. I am now 23-year-old student for the Catholic priesthood in my native Burma, but I have never ever forgotten those earlier days. When I was only 5 years old, the sudden stuttering of the machine gunfire broke the stillness of our village. Terrified, we fled – my mother leading me and my older sister deep into the surrounding forest. My father and elder brother, working up in our hill fields, heard the gunfire and also fled into the woods. Only when I was older did I realize the fear my mother must have experienced, not knowing if my father and brother were alive or dead.

Jungle Survival

The Kachin Independence Army in those days was locked in fierce struggle with Burmese government troops--fighting, fighting and more fighting-- until peaceful life in the village was changed into the miserable life of refugees. Four years later, in June 1984, an intense battle near our village shattered our lives again. We villagers fled deep into the forest. This time we did not return. Life in the jungle became an 18-month struggle to survive. There was little to eat other than bamboo shoots and yams.

Chased by Death

My family finally decided to settle in the village of Nawng Mi on the Ledo Road. But I was sent to live with my uncle’s family in a town not too far away so that I could begin school. I was 11. One day, as part of my chores, I went into the forest with three friends to collect wood. We didn’t know the Burmese army had a patrol out searching for Kachin soldiers. Maybe they thought we had been helping the soldiers; I don’t know. I just remember the gunfire and two of us running, for the other two had already fallen dead on the ground behind us. We ran and rested, and then ran again until it was dark. For two nights we slept in the forest, much too terrified to try to get back to the village.

Spared by God

Although I was deeply saddened by the death of my two companions, I couldn’t help thinking that God, for some reason, was watching over me and preserving my life. Later, I returned to live with my family, who had moved to the town of Kamaing. I was upset to learn that my mother had been weeping for days, having been told I was one of the two boys killed in the jungle.

Desire for Priesthood

I resumed my schooling and helped my family sell vegetables in the market. In 1991, through the influence of my mother’s younger brother, I entered the Church and became a Catholic. My love for God and my prayer life began quietly growing until I felt a strong desire to become a priest. I entered the minor seminary in 1994 and graduated to the newly established St. Patrick’s Pre-major Seminary in Myitkina last year. There were 21 of us in the first class under the guidance of Father Donal Khawng Lim. My classmates are impressive. Most of us are Kachin, but some are from the Naga people, who have to walked for nine days from their homes near the India and China borders to start and end the school term.

Life at St. Patrick’s

The first year wasn’t very easy.  In addition to our studies, we worked on the construction of our two-storey building. The dormitory and a small room to reserve the Blessed Sacrament are on the top floor. The first floor is where we study, eat, celebrate our liturgies. A shed with an open fire serves as our kitchen. We gather firewood and take turns helping with the cooking.

Most of our time at St. Patrick’s is spent getting a better command of English to prepare us for philosophy and theology studies in the major seminary. This year we were fortunate to have Maryknoll Brother John Beeching and his friend Jim Mulqueen come for two weeks of intensive English practice with us. They are wonderful people, so full of fun. I was also deeply impressed by their witness to love and charity.

Called to Proclaim

Life has not always been easy, and I know there will probably be other challenges before I reach my goal of priesthood. But I have come to know that I am blessed as a disciple of Jesus, called to promote the reign of God among our people here in Burma who have suffered and are suffering so much. If it hasn’t been easy, it has been richly rewarding. Over the years I am slowly learning how to pray, “Thy will be done!”

By Fr. Peter Grant

The years leading up to the end of apartheid in South Africa were particularly brutal. Sometimes even church people were no help, forgetting the Gospel and embracing the wisdom of the world. Peter Grant lived through these harrowing times. But the pain and the suffering eventually led him back to Christ. He shares his story with us here.

My parents emigrated from England to South Africa after World War II, having had one child. My mother suffered a series of miscarriages, and the doctors advised that she could not bear more children without risk so they give up trying... until they joined the Catholic Church in 1957. The Irish Dominican Sisters in Cape Town (bless their hearts) informed my parents that “it” was “good” healthy exercise, so keep on trying! “This they duly did resulting in my birth in 1958, followed by two daughters. When I was only a few days old, my parents took me up to the convent to show the sisters what their prayers had wrought. Mother Angelica and her cohorts promptly kidnapped me, whisked me off to the chapel, and dedicated me firmly to our Lady. I blame a lot of things in my life since then on their intervention. (Not that I’m complaining mind you...)

Pres. Nelson Mandela, universally acclaimed for his compassion, courage and wisdom

Wrong Motivation

My journey out of the Catholic Church began with the eruption of widespread civil strife in South Africa in 1976, when black people rose in revolt against the discriminatory and segregationist policies of apartheid. At the time, I was fulfilling my military service obligation. I remember being put on standby to patrol rebellious black townships and thinking to myself, “What am I doing to do if I come across rioters? Can I shoot them, when I know full well that, if I’d been born black, I’d be rioting with them?” this led me to consider entering the seminary, in order to try to make a difference as a priest. Of course, this was the wrong motivation – I should have been focusing on what God wanted from me, rather than what I was prepared to do for God.

Rude Awakening

Unfortunately, seminary was a rude awakening. I found that any overt enthusiasm for or about the faith was regarded as extremely suspect. I had been involved in the charismatic renewal for some time and was dumbfounded to be asked by the rector of the seminary, “What are you doing praying with people? You’re not ordained!” The influence of liberation theology also was very strong in the Church at that time. My attempt to find greater community spirit with a religious order was derailed when my novice master advised me that “violence can be a just and Christian way to change society.” I remembered reading many sayings of our Lord, but never that one. So in 1981, I abandoned my studies, disillusioned and depressed about the state of the Church.

Struggle for Liberation

My disillusionment was reinforced during the 1980’s numerous clergy and religious had become political and social activists first and men and women of God distant second. During those years, many South Africans, including myself, did their best to help those who had become victims of violence, but our activities, being non-political, often were resented.

A friend of mine was brutally murdered when, because of his faith, he refused to support, a particular political movement, which wanted him to join in an attack on a rival group. When I tried to make arrangements for his funeral I found his pastor unsympathetic. This ‘man of God’ felt that my friend’s death was his own fault for refusing to cooperate with the “liberation struggle.” His conduct had been an example of “selfish refusal to support the oppressed.” His obedience to the Gospel, even unto death, counted for nothing. I’m sure that my friend now wears a martyr’s crown in heaven, despite his pastor’s opinion.

Ideology Rules

Some clergy and religious even argued that the Bible should be “edited” with books sympathetic to the needs of the oppressed” being replaced by others which “showed solidarity with the proletariat.” Many in the Church – clergy, religious, and laity – under the influence of this and other ideologies supported and even practiced violence as a “justifiable element of the struggle”.  Those who objected were vilified indiscriminately as “hidebound reactionaries,” “arch-conservatives,” or “counter-revolutionaries.”

Rebellion Against the Church

After all too many encounters with such altitudes, I stopped practicing my faith. This was, of course, seriously sinful on my part. I failed to recognize that deficiencies in her members were not automatically deficiencies in the church, and that, as Frank Sheed put it, “defects in the Church are not defects in Christ.” I also failed to take into account those holy men and women who, indeed, were trying to exert a godly influence in our tragic situation. (Unfortunately, I met very few such persons.) In my bitterness, I dismissed the Church as having no relevance or meaning. Having rebelled against his Church, it was perhaps inevitable that in due course I also stopped listening to God. I fell into a self-centered and sinful lifestyle, regarding myself as lord or my own universe.

Haunting Memories

My memories of the 1980s are a curious blend of happiness and horror. My secular career and part time studies afford me great pleasure, and I did well in both. My ongoing efforts to help those trapped in violence and civil unrest were a constant source of fear, pain and interior bitterness. I was injured several times in township violence, but the physical pain was as nothing compared to the mental anguish of witnessing so much savagery and  pointless bloodshed. At times, I couldn’t handle it any more and withdrew from the townships. A period of relative personal calm would follow. I inevitably would be drawn back into the thick of things. I had many nightmares during those years, images of the grotesque barbarity that I witnessed. They haunt me still.

Dual Rejection

Matters came to a head for me in the early 1990s. The conflicting demands of a career, ongoing studies and assisting the victims of violence were overloading me, in addition – as with many white people trying to work in black communities during those years of violence – I was experiencing a “dual rejection”. In the white community, some regarded us as “communist” or “traitors” because we believed and openly proclaimed that apartheid was evil and that skin color was no reason for discrimination. In the black community, we also encountered rejection, because no matter what we did nor said, we had white skins and were thus automatically outsiders – never “one of us.”

Tragic Moment of Truth

At this point, an incident occurred that devastated me and forced me to re-examine the foundations of my life. I was in a black township, trying to help the victims of a violent mob battle the previous day. I was picking up the pieces of the body of an eight-year-old girl who had been hacked to death. Her mother was with me, also picking up lumps of torn and mangled flesh. She was trying to weep, but her anguish had gone on so long, and her despair was so great, that her sobs were now wracking, gut-wrenching explosions of grief. They produced no tears – she had none left. As I helped her, I too was weeping. (There were times, back then, when even without an active faith, I truly understood the biblical injunction to “weep with those who weep.” Sometimes no other prayer is possible, except for tears.) Township dwellers were standing some distance away, armed with spears, clubs, and knives. They watched us, with their faces like stone. They had been part of the mob that had killed the girl. Behind us, three (white) policemen lounged next to their armored personnel carrier, making racist, barbed and grotesque remarks about what we were doing. One of them sneered at me, “What are you crying for? Don’t bother about that girl! After all, she’s only a kaffir (‘nigger’) – she’s an animal, she hasn’t got a soul!”

Realizing My Role in the Calvary

His vicious remark struck me like a bolt of lighting. God used it to open my eyes to the reality of the situation. This policeman was as much a victim of violence and hatred as was the child whose body I was helping to assemble for burial. She was dead, and her sufferings were now over, but he, too, was dead – dead in spirit, dead in soul. He was living out his own private hell, right here and now. For the first time, I realized the true meaning of the cross. Christ was crucified in the death of this young girl; he was crucified in the mourning of her mother; and He was crucified in the bigotry and contempt of that young policeman as well. He even was crucified in the callous disregard of his teachings by so many on his Church. I was sharing in a true Calvary that encompassed all the actors in this tragedy yet I had denied any role for Calvary, both in my own life and in the despair and hatred which was all around me.

Heeding God’s Call

All of my rationalizing an intellectual adjustment had been destroyed, and I knew that only in God would I find peace. I was still rebellious about the state of the Church. I prayed about this for some months and eventually made an appointment to see a bishop in another diocese. He was himself a man of color and had suffered under apartheid; I knew him to be a man of prayer who took God seriously. I described to him what I’d experienced and the conflict and confusion I felt in my mind. Needless to say, he, being outside my situation, could see things more clearly than I, and, being a man of God, he could evaluate the Lord’s work in me, even though I could not identify it all. He worked through a number of issues with me. Through his wise advice, I was able to see that God had been calling me for years. The reason I hadn’t heard Him was that I had closed my ears to His voice, blaming Him for the defects I saw in members of His Church.

I felt as if a constricting, choking cloud had been lifted from me, and, for the first time in years, I could see clearly. Over the next few months, I wound up my personal affairs and in 1992 took up my studies for the priesthood once again. I was ordained on January 1995.

Learning Experiences

I’m often asked how I see my priesthood – and, indeed, the Christian life in general – in the light of my experiences. They are a very real foundation for my ministry. I still weep, freely and unashamedly, on and around June 16 every year, when I offer the sacrifice of the Mass for the twenty-seven friends I lost in South Africa’s long and tragic conflict and for all the others who died so savagely and so pointlessly.

Long Way to Go

I still have along way to go in growing into Christ. I can only praise and thank Him for leading me with such gentle, loving understanding, out of darkness into His wonderful light. I now understand that His Church, despite the defects of her members – including my own – is, indeed, holy, with a holiness only He can give His Bride. In serving her, I serve Him in failing her, I fail Him. May He grant that I never for-sake her again! Those Irish Dominican Sisters are probably in heaven with our Lord. I’ll bet they’re still praying for me and haven’t finished with me yet!

By Fr. Chris Baker, mssc

Village Carpenter to Prophet

One Sabbath day in the synagogue ofNazareth a village carpenter was invited to read out a passage from the book of Isaiah. He may have been poor, but he was literate. When he sat down and began to explain the prophet’s word to them, that close-knit community was astonished to hear one of the world’s greatest revelations. In this country town, where his mother Mary had conceived and reared him, he now announced that he was anointed by the Spirit of God as a prophet. He fulfilled the description which they had just heard. Yes! He was the one sent to bring good news to the poor, to set free the captives and the crushed, to restore sight to the blind. In short, he was sent by God to “proclaim a year of favour from the Lord.” A Jubilee Year.

What Jubilee means

Why do we talk such a “year of favour” or “year of release” as a Jubilee year? Because that is the name given to it where the basic laws about release in the 50th year are presented in the Book of Leviticus, chapter 25. Each seventh year was to be a sabbatical year, a year of rest for the land for normal cultivation and a year in which Hebrew slaves were to be set free.  After seven times seven years there was a very special kind of sabbatical year, which was announced by the blowing of a ram’s horn, in Hebrew a yobel. For short, the Jubilee year was referred to simply as the year of the yobel. Through Latin the word “jubilee” has come into our English language. Appropriately we now refer to many celebrations of important anniversaries as Golden or Silver Jubilees.

Forgiving ruinous debts in the Jubilee Year

What was so special to the Jubilee year of Leviticus was the wonderful liberation of Israelites who had been forced to surrender their animals, their fields, their houses and finally their entire farming family into slavery. The debts that led them into such a desperate situation were to be completely cancelled out. On top of that, they were able to return to their own homes and fields, to begin again a free and dignified family life, working together on their own cherished farm. Obviously these laws were intended to prevent the most successful rich people from gradually accumulating practically all of the farms and homes of their less fortunate neighbours. “So you will not exploit your neigbour...” (Lev 25:17).

Setting free the bonded workers

There was an ancient custom which obliged the nearest male relative to help out an Israelite sold into slavery. The “redeeming" relative would pay the price necessary as soon as he could. Because farming was subject to so many forces that could ruin a farmer, the Jubilee Year provided a rare relief for any farming family still down and out despite such help from relatives. Their own family farm gave all the household standing and participation within the community of God’s people.

By choosing to announce, with full authority from God, that his own prophetic mission should be regarded as the arrival of a Jubilee Year, Jesus has become the brother, the nearest relative/ “kinsman” of all members of the human family especially those in need for release of burdens.

What Jubilee demands of us today

Jesus uses the Old Testament Jubilee to illustrate His mission – a mission to free the groaning world from all burdens and especially from sin, the ultimate source of these burdens. So also we as disciples of Jesus should work to end the terrible burden of Third World debt and to free our brothers and sisters from all types of oppression especially in this Great Jubilee Year.

By Doris Rayner

I came from a poor family. I am the oldest of five siblings. My father worked as a Factory worker inManila and earned a meager income. He couldn’t afford to bring his family to live with him so my Mother and us children, stayed in Pangasinan. He came home only on long weekends or Holidays. In 1974, I finished High School. I took Medical Secretarial Course at Luzon Colleges,Dagupan City, but was notable to finish it because we had no money.

On June 1975, my brother Jun died, the oldest of my three brothers. He died of tetanus, it was the saddest time of my life. I loved by brother dearly but I could not help him. Had my parents not been poor, maybe he would be still alive today.

A Dream Comes True

I prayed and promised myself that I will become successful one day and help my parents uplift our standard of living. My prayer was answered. My godfather who was a Philippine Army Officer suggested to my parents if I could work as and office Helper at Fort Magsaysay High School, PalayanCity, Nueva Ecija. I agreed without hesitation. I worked at daytime and studied at night. I enrolled in atWesleyan University – Philippines, Cabanatuan City and took Bachelor of Science in Commerce. I studied non-stop. In three years I finished my degree. It was the happiest moment in my life. My dream of helping my parents came true.

After my graduation, I landed a job at Banco Filipino, Buendia Branch. After four months at Banco Filipino, I got better offer from Far East Bank and Trust Company, as Bank Teller, also in Makati. I supported my sister as she finished her degree. Then we decided to let our father have his retirement. He was teary-eyed with joy.

The Marriage

On December 1982, I met my husband-to-be, and Australian tourist and a bachelor. He came to our bank to encash his traveler’s checks for pesos. He was on a long queue. When it was his turn, I told him to go to the Foreign Exchange Department for documentation and come back to me so I could give his money. That encashing of traveler’s checks, followed several times just to see me and we had lunches together. After a five-week stay, he proposed marriage.  I didn't accept it right then because I didn’t know him very well. When he was back in Australia, he didn’t stop communicating. He invited me to come and see his country and to get to know him. I was able to get an Australian Visa, valid for 3 months. I came on June 1983 upon agreement that I will stay in a Filipino family. Before my visa expired, we were already married in a Catholic Church in Queensland. It was the joyous moment of my life. I married a generous and patient man.

A Wife but not a Mother

My sister became a Certified Public Accountant. I was able to get an office job, send money to my parent and replace our Nipa house with a concrete one. I lived life to the full. Everything was so easy to achieve – money travel, and material things.

Despite all of these, I craved for something – a baby. Although my husband could not have a child of his own, I was hoping that he would agree with me for adoption but he didn’t want a baby at all. I was disappointed but still continued my duty as an ideal wife. I lost my job and never found another one. He was so happy that I became a full-time housewife. My whole attention was on him alone.

Mother’s Death

My mother died on September 1988. Once again, I lost one of my loved ones, the apple of my eyes. Friends and relatives said my mother had a happy death. She experienced a comfortable life and saw her family settled. My life was never the same again after my mother’s death. I was unhappy with my husband for being selfish, for not granting my wish to have a baby.

Primetime

On July 1990, after my overseas holiday, I decided to go back to school. I took a computer course for six months, followed by two-year course – Associate Diploma in Business. The same year I started a Door to Door Parcel Business (Australia – Philippines). Slowly the business thrived. I was also active in our Parish and in the Filipino community. In 1993, I finished my studies. I was in my prime.  I got a degree built a successful business, became popular. I was independent and proud. My husband was aware of what I was doing, but I didn’t realize that he was hurting inside. He didn’t tell me.

Marriage is over

I took a vocation to the Philippines on February 1996, after one week I received a letter from my husband’s lawyer stating that the marriage was over. I was in quandary! I rang him and he confirmed that the marriage was over effective the day I left for the Philippines. A lot of questions followed. I begged him not to do it. My plea was ignored and there was nothing much I could do.

Bout with Depression

I could not face reality. I was into depression I went for a private retreat in Tagaytay but it did not help at all. I didn’t have the courage to tell my plight to my father and relatives. I kept it all inside. I came back to Australia and decided to start a new life in Sydney. By then, my sister has already migrated to Australia so I stayed for a while at her place but I was disappointed with her. She chose to accommodate a flatmate. I took refuge at my cousin’s house.

My depression continued. I felt betrayed, angry, sad and afraid. My cousin who lives a single life was there for me. She listened to me every night. She tried to ease my loneliness and pain but when I was alone, all sorts of things entered my mind. Self-pity especially.

Decision to Mission

It was gift of faith that kept my sanity. I must admit, I was a nominal Catholic but when I met and befriended the missionaries of different orders my spiritual life blossomed. I have learned a lot from them.

On my last vacation to the Philippines I came to mass one Sunday and a Columban Priest promoted the Misyon Magazine to me. I bought and brought the copies with me to Australia. I read the article of Sister Jasmine Peralta when she was in Korea. I was touched. I decided to be a Lay Missionary. I wrote to Sr. Jaz and asked for help. She wrote back and told me to contact the Columban Mission inAustralia, which I did.

Unfortunately, because of the ongoing court case between my husband and I may lawyer advised me not to go. I was really disappointed. I realized in the end that, to be missionary, there’s no need to be in a foreign land. Sr. Jaz and I continued our communication and became good friends up to now. She helped me through her prayers, love and support during the difficult times in my life. I thank the Lord for her friendship. I met her personally for the first time during my recent visit to thePhilippines. I was able to stay at their Convent and met some of her fellow Columban Sisters with whom I shared my life story and they encourage me to have it published.

Let Go and Let God

Several times I tried my best o have reconciled with my husband but to no avail. My Court Case continued and it was traumatic and expensive. It took over two years before we finally agreed for amicable settlement. I faced it all with faith and courage. Despite what my husband did to me, I sent him a Thank You letter, I thanked him for the thirteen years of marriage we have had, the good memories and for bringing me to Australia. I have learned to let go and let God: that life is not a race but journey.

Nothing Without God

Since, I am now on my own, I spend most of my weekend helping others through “driving ministry”, visiting friends at the nursing home, helping at the Piety Stall at St. Mary’s Cathedral, listening to a friend, go for recollection once a month and retreat every six months, I feel blessed! My ambition to be a lay missionary is now fulfilled right here in Sydney.

I am now working full-time for an International Freight Company at Sydney Airport – new abode, new friends and new life. I could not have done all these without my generous Lover and His Mother, the Lord Jesus Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary, I stick to them during my ordeal and I am never disappointed. I still have my ups and downs, relapses I just do my best and leave everything to my Lover and His Mother. They will look after me!

By George Weigel

John Paul II, the philosopher Pope, faces two totalitarianisms. The experience cemented his faith in the transcendence of human reason.

The most Visible Pope

Twenty years ago the College of Cardinals stunned the world by electing the first non-Italian pope in 455 yeas and the first Slavic successor to St. Peter ever. But even the more adventurous cardinal-electors in 1978 could not have imagined the impact that John Paul II -- the most visible pope and,arguably, the most visible human being, in history – would have on his times.

Catholic Church: Defender of Human Rights

John Paul has made the Catholic the world’s premier institutional defender of basic human rights: Central and Eastern Europe,Latin America and parts of East Asia are very different places today because of his critiques of totalitarian and authoritarian governments and his proposals for building the free and virtuous society. The pope’s insistence that freedom must be linked to truth and fulfilled in goodness has helped shape the public debate in established democracies. At a time when many figures on the world stage seem smaller than their responsibilities demand, he has continued, even amid physical limitations, to be an unavoidable reference point.

Nazism and Communism

Both John Paul II’s global activism and his teaching on virtually every aspect of the church’s life have been shape by his trenchant analysis of contemporary culture. As a young man personally familiar with the terrors of both Nazism and communism, Karol Wojtyla came to the conclusion that the crisis of the 20th century had to do with ideas. Humanity was risking self-destruction because of a crisis in the very idea of the human person – a crisis that was at the root of the century’s destructive economic and political systems.

Springtime of Human Spirit

Why had a century that had begun with the confident proclamation of humanity’s coming of age produced, in short order, three totalitarianisms, two world wars, and technologies that threatened humanity’s very existence? The mountains of corpses and the oceans of blood, the Holocaust and the Gulag Archipelago, were all, Wojtyla believed, the lethal products of false ideas about human nature, human community, human history and human destiny. In this crisis of world civilization, it was the church’s task to challenge the new barbarians – be they fascists, communist or utilitarians who reduced human beings to objects for manipulation – in the name of human dignity and human freedom. In proclaiming a true humanism and a genuine freedom, the church was fulfilling its ancient mission and, as he told the United Nations in 1995, helping to prepare a “springtime of the human spirit” after a long, dark winter of suffering.

Faith and Reason

Pope John Paul II extended this defense of the inalienable dignity of every human being in his recently issued 13th encyclical, Fides et Ratio (Faith and Reason). Now he challenges those among his fellow philosophers who claim that human beings cannot know the truth of things. In doing so, he has positioned the Catholic Church as the defender of human reason in a season of new irrationalities. In most prestigious university philosophy departments today, the majority of philosopher’s have convinced themselves that human reason cannot, as they put it, “get to” truth. John Paul describes this profound skepticism, rather gently, as a “false modesty” and urges philosophers to rediscover their singular vacation.

Think About Truth

Many contemporary philosophers have declared the great question of the human condition – why is there something rather than nothing, what is good and what is evil, what is happiness and what is delusion -   out of bounds. The Pope asks them to take up those questions again, with a new openness to the possibility that theology might be an insightful conversation partner. Religion that cuts itself off from reason deteriorates into superstition. But philosophies that prematurely foreclose the question of truth (including transcendent Truth or God) so drastically limit what John Paul calls their “horizon” that they fall into the trap of solipsism: thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking, rather that thinking about truth. In both cases, the human project suffers. For when reason is suspect, technology trumps moral truth, human dignity is threatened, freedom risks captivity to someone’s will to power.

Recovering Intellectual Riches

The ancient Greeks and the masters of early Christian thought they knew better, John Paul writes: They knew that reason could know the true, the good and the beautiful, even if it grasped them incompletely. Thus the path to a more humane 21st century, he suggests, lies in recovering our nerve by recovering some of the great intellectual riches of our civilization. It is a challenge wholly consonant with two decades of the teaching and public witness of John Paul II, the pope of Christian humanism.

There’s More to Do

The most peripatetic of popes has already visited 117 countries, held live audiences on the internet, published a bestseller and blessed more people that his 263 predecessors combined. Perhaps no other leader – religious or secular – has reached out so effectively across so much of the globe. But as he enters the third decade of is reign, the 78 year-old leader of the world’s 1 billion Roman Catholics is defying age and infirmity to tackle unfinished business as ambitious as what he has already achieved. High on the agenda is a pilgrimage to the biblical lands of the Middle East and a summit meeting there with leaders of Judaism and Islam – monotheistic faiths that, like Christianity, trace their roots to Abraham. And healing the 1, 000 year-rift between the Vatican and Orthodox Christianity is a priority.

John Paul is also plotting a journey through time: a year-long celebration in Rome to greet Christendom’s third millennium. And in the countdown to 2000, he is demanding repentance for sins committed by Christians down through history in over zealous defense of their faith.

The mountains of corpses and the oceans of blood, the Holocaust and the Gulag Archipelago, were all, Wojtyla believed, the lethal products of false ideas about human nature, human community, human history and human destiny.

By Emma Pabera

Emma Pabera tells about the dilemma of Pakistani wives.

I was in lay mission in Pakistan when a Columban friend wrote to me, “Life will never be the same again after your mission experience.” That was six years ago. I did not understand what he meant then. Not until my mission term ended and I went back home to the Philippines. That is why I was overjoyed when Fr. McGuire, Columban Lay Mission Coordinator, asked me if I wanted to visit our lay missionaries in Pakistan. Without any hesitation, I said, “Yes!”

Baji, Street Sweeper

One of the special persons, I wanted to see was Baji Hanefa (baji is a Punjabi word for sister). I regard her as a mother, a sister and a friend. A gentle woman, hardworking, loving and kind. She has six children, five girls, and an only boy. She works in a government corporation as a street sweeper. Most of the Christian men in the city work as street sweepers while the women as house cleaners in the Muslim families. They are poor but with hard work, Baji and her husband were able to send their children to school. Their son was in college and could speak English. He was one of the parish leaders before he got married. He helped me with our Bible activity in the community. I used to have meal in their house. Sometimes I stayed for the night. I felt at home with them as they regard me as a member of the family.

Battered Wife

One day I came to visit them. To my surprise, the children looked sad and quiet which was unusual. They told me later that their mother Baji had left them. She had been beaten by their father the previous day. At first I couldn’t believe their father could do this. He was a quiet person, soft spoken, hard working and responsible. I had a great respect for him. He had no enemy in the community.

Mean Husband

I was a witness to one of these beating incidents one summer evening. We were sleeping on the rooftop of the house. (InPakistan, houses are built like boxes with the top of the house used as a multi-purpose place; for sleeping at night during summer time, for playing, for entertaining visitors, and for hanging clothes.) I was awakened when I heard voices and commotion. The son was trying to stop his father from beating his mother with an iron tube. I was shocked because we all prayed that evening before we went to sleep. The three girls were crying. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do. I stayed with the girls in one corner. I felt sorry for Baji and the children. Trying to stop his father, the son fell and hit his head on a hard object. Blood was dripping from the upper part of his right eye. Close relatives and neighbors came to help. That evening we left Baji’s husband alone in the house.

Peace Offering

The next morning the girls returned to the house to attend to their classes. Baji stayed with me for four days. When her husband was sober, I talked to him. We had a good talk. He apologized to me and promised he will not beat Baji again. He also apologized to his wife. That day he cooked delicious chicken for lunch and gajerila –carrots cooked in milk and sugar – for dessert as a sign of reconciliation. Everyone was happy. I told him that if he beat Baji again, I would not come to their house anymore. The girls were only eleven and twelve years old that time, their eldest sister was seventeen years old and was already engaged to be married the following year.

End of the Rope

About three months before I leftPakistan, Baji left her family for good. She had severely beaten again. It happened when the two young girls were in school and the son was out working. She couldn’t bear the humiliation, the verbal and physical abuse by her husband. I felt   so bad and cried a lot. I left Pakistan without saying goodbye to her. I was thinking maybe I would never see her again.

Deprived Woman

Back in the Philippines, I heard that she lived for a while wit her brother in the Sindh province. But she didn’t stay there long. She came back to Lahore to live on her own and to be closer to where her children live. Her husband won’t allow her to visit her children in her former house. The children are also prohibited from seeing her. Occasionally the children would visit her but are careful enough that the father does not know. The two girls are now beautiful teenagers. Together with their brother who is now married, they all still live with their father.

Reunion with Baji

When I arrived in Pakistan, my first plan was to visit Pilar’s grave. (Pilar was a Columban Lay missionary from Negros who died in Pakistan while on mission.) Next was to see Baji Hanefa. Her son brought me to her one afternoon. I was very excited to see her. On the way I bought ripe mangoes for her. Her place was quite far. The road was bad. She lives in a one –room house with only a small string bed, two plastic chairs, and a tin trunk. The room has no window. It is good that she has an electric fan. I was glad to know her neighbors are all good to her. We both cried with joy as we hugged each other. She is still the gentle woman I knew before though she looks older, pale and unhappy. Her pain and suffering was seen in her eyes though she tried to hide it with a smile. Lots of questions were asked. She still works as a cleaner in a Muslim family to support herself. Her son tries to visit her if possible to attend to her needs. She is looking forward to the birth of her son’s first baby which could be within a few days. I was moved to tears when she showed me the baby dresses, gloves, shoes, hats and pillows which she beautifully crocheted.

Only the Strong

In Pakistan only strong women and very few of them – have the courage to do what Baji Hanefa did. Many remain to live with their husbands to suffer as a martyr or a fool. Baji suffers the pain of separation from her loved ones and the humiliation of the society whose culture is unjust to women but I admire her for that. She may look weak but for me she is strong.

P.S. Emma will send you literature on the Columban lay mission program, if   you so wish. (Ed.)

By Baby Hofileña

I am Baby, 67 years of age and my husband, Chris, is 72. Our children, seven boys and two girls, are obviously all grown-ups now. Seven are married. I wish I had then the wisdom and experience that come with age and spiritual growth. Fortunate are the couples who start their married life with God participating.

During the earlier years of our marriage when our children started coming at about a year and a half or two years intervals, I began to feel burdened, harassed, tired, insecure and imprisoned in the confines of the duties and responsibilities of married life. More so when we discovered our sixth son to be palsied since infancy, I remember thinking, surely there has to be something better in life than this. If only I knew then what I know now.

Deaf and Blind

We transferred from Bacolod to Biscom in Binalbagan. That special son of ours had died of pneumonia when he was three years old. More attention could now be given to the other children. As it turned out I taught in Catholic college. Our eldest was the midst of high school and our youngest was a toddler. During this time I started to be involved in many religious and social organizations. I was happy. I thought I was being a good Christian, wife and mother. What I did not realize then was that I was turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to what was happening to my own family; My husband and children were feeling neglected, hurt and jealous. And well they should and well they should have because while I could be happy, generous and kind in the performance of my apostolate and social functions, at home my family would experience my impatience, cutting words and sloppy housekeeping. I must give credit to my husband’s love and patience with me most of the time. How I must have made him suffer with my irresponsible attitudes. But God is love and He never gives up on us.

Beginner

We need to be humble, accept the truth about ourselves and let God take over. I asked for my husband’s forgiveness in a marriage retreat. Little as I began to grow in the Holy Spirit, I realized that I had to begin again from the very beginning. Like learning the alphabet first before I could form the words and then the sentences that would make for an authentic Christian life. There was much to make up for. Resolve alone was not going to make it work.  Jesus said “If you want to be my apostle, deny yourself, take up your cross daily and follow me.” I knew I would have to live intimately with Jesus if I wanted to succeed.

Joy in Housekeeping

Then the miracles started happening. A transformation began taking place. Where before I rebelled at what duty and obligations called for in my state of life, I noticed that I was beginning to enjoy and look forward to performing them. Housekeeping became an expression of loving my family. Every plate I washed and laundry done was an act of love for Jesus. Not that we should become a perfectionist in our work. That also is not good because it will become an end in itself and self-serving. It is not even how much work we do but how much love we show. Jesus also said, “My yoke is easy and burden is light.”

Soon it was no longer my will but God’s that I wanted to follow. And so, where before I would just read and read to my heart’s content forgetting everything else – because I love to read – this time doing God’s will means putting that book down when he next moment belongs to another activity – doing another ‘will’ of God in the moment like, preparing for dinner, perhaps laundering, tidying up the house, gardening or attending to other things especially seeing to the needs of the member of the family.

In wanting to help to the load lighter for our house help, it has become customary to me to get out of my car to push open the gate of our compound when my husband and I would come home in order to spare them from running to open the gates themselves. That was the one way of my loving to them too.

Unity and Togetherness

Our family outing to the beaches which we used to do often began to take on new meaning. A togetherness which made unity a beautiful experience. Our married children are all family conscious – giving priority to the unity and togetherness of the own families. Back in Bacolod, my husband and I mostly now by ourselves, would eat out practically every week. It serves as a good venue for communication and seeing things together for the good of the family – not to mention that it gives the wife a break from household chores and not least – to make her feel special.

Sharing in Jesus Resurrection

A few years ago I had my first heart attack, I suffered an MI collapse four months later because of my potassium had become low.(Potassium is a mineral needed by the body to strengthen the muscles.) After I checked out I still had several attacks.

Steady Recovery

I remember my second attack when I was feeling so awful for days because of my low potassium. One night, I felt like I was sinking down, down, down, with everything around me spinning. I could hear my daughter saying soothing words of prayers in my ears as she gently stroked my arm. I thought that was it for me. I entrusted myself to God, embracing Jesus forsaken in His own suffering. When I reached the point of saying my ‘yes’ to letting go, I felt the security and peace I never experienced before. And surprise of surprises I fell asleep almost immediately – very soundly. I woke up next morning feeling strengthened, refreshed. My recovery was steady after that, no more of those awful sensations. I had never felt so close to Jesus and our Blessed Mother as in those moments of my acute suffering. Prayers and the Holy Rosary did more as sedatives for me than medicine.

Jesus in the Midst

In my recent hospitalization, my husband saw it as an opportunity to love me concretely. He could now attend to me personally. He would not have anymore for hours to relieve him in the hospital. On my part I tried to reciprocate his love by not making unnecessary requests. One morning I waited patiently for him to wake up on his own even if it was late already so we could have breakfast together with me hooked up to my dextrose. We felt very close to one another. We were very happy. There was reciprocal, mutual love. There was Jesus in our midst, just like in the Family of Nazareth. When things go wrong, and in the most unexpected ways, mutual love can be lost. When it does, we re-establish it as soon as possible. There is Jesus on the Cross, having felt forsaken Himself even by His own Father, visiting us in moments like these and waiting for us to unite our sufferings with His. He will help us to love again. We will be happy that we have overcome with Him. What joy for us knowing that we have co-responded in making Jesus be reborn in us and in our midst.

I would like to close with something beautiful I came across which says, “Say it now Please”

“Why wait until tomorrow to tell someone you care? Far beyond the dawn tomorrow, you may not see him there. The past now lies behind us, and tomorrow may not come. We only live today, to beat upon life’s drum. Why not say ‘I love you’ to that someone you hold dear. For time is such a fragile thing that death may soon appear. Let him know you love him for there’s never a doubt. The best time is now to try and work this out. If you keep your love a secret, it cannot multiply, for love will play grand dividends each day and throughout the year.”