By Tina D’ Alessandro

My eight-year-old son, Jamie, died of cancer. He was the second of our four children, all of them boys. Some weeks later, I was asked to tell a group of our friends how my perception of heaven had been changed by the experience of Jaime’s sickness and death, this is pretty much what I said.

When Jaime was diagnosed with Burkitt’s lymphoma in August 1996, the prognosis was very good. That was a great help. Because it would be nearly impossible for parents to put their child through chemotherapy and radiation treatments without trusting that the child would be cured by the procedures, Jamie’s course of treatment also included a bone marrow transplant.

Jamie had been home from the bone marrow unit for 11 days when he died. The second or third of those nights – Jamie knew that his cancer had returned and a medical cure was no longer possible – he very patiently to me, “Mom, you don’t have to get up every time you hear me. Sometimes I’m just praying and talking to God. I’ll call you if I need you.” When his dad asked, “Does God talked back to you when you talk to him?” Jamie looked at him with a twinkle in his eye and very quietly explained, “Dad, I don’t hear God with my ears. He answers me in my heart and I feel better.” My relationship with Jamie had always been one of honesty. Before his illness and certainly throughout his illness, he trusted that my answers to his questions would be honest. When the cancer returned for the second time, he looked at me and started crying. He simply said, “That’s means that I am going todie." I replied: "That means that the medicine can no longer help. Not one of us knows the exact moment that God will call us home to him. It means that it’s time to go home and be together for as long as God has planned. He will either cure you while you’re here with us or cure you when you go home with him.”

Jamie replied that he did not want to die, but if he had to die, he wanted me and his dad go with him. My response was, “Daddy and I want you to be with us, too. God won’t take you home to be with him until you’re ready. “I then spent the last week of Jamie’s life praying that God would honor those words that I had spoken in love to my son. In Is. 51:12, God tell us, “I even I, am he who comforts you...” I thought of this verse over and over again, asking God to comfort Jamie, his brothers, his father and me. Of course I prayed for the miracle of a cure, but I also prayed for comfort and grace – to accept God’s will regardless of what I felt to be best.

Jamie was happy to be home. He was tired and could get cranky, especially with is exuberant younger brother, but he was deeply content to be home. He spent hours building Legos with his dad, sorting sports cards and filling them in their books and following Duke’s team, now that the football seasons had ended for his beloved Jaguars. It wasn’t until Friday, Feb. 7, that Jamie’s level declined drastically, and I started feeling that we were nearing the end. He still wanted me to read aloud to him. We were in the middle of the sixth book of C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia and he also liked to hear selections from a book entitled Someday Heaven.

By three o’clock the following morning, Jamie’s breathing had become more labored. From that moment on, either my husband or I was with him throughout Saturday. Jamie dozed on and off. He didn’t talk a lot because he had difficulty breathing; but he was awake, aware of what was going on around him and able to make his needs known to us. In med-afternoon, I was lying on the bed next to Jaime, and his dad was sitting at its foot.  Jamie's brother, Andy, and his Nana were closed by.  In a clear, loud and strong voice,  Jamie looked up toward a corner of the ceiling and said, "But I want to stay."

He said nothing else. I asked him if he was talking to me or other one of us. He shook his head to tell me no. After this he closed his eyes to rest. We all looked at each other in wonderment and, I’ll admit, some disbelief. Could we really have heard and understood what we thought we heard? There is no doubt in my mind that Jamie was talking to an angel or to Jesus himself who was waiting nearby.  Later in the afternoon, around5 P.M., Jamie looked to the same corner of the ceiling and said emphatically and loudly,  "Go away!” Then, he once again closed his eyes. Paul and I were the only ones in the room with him at that time, he had not been talking to us. I guess I should say that we were the only ones visible in the room at that time.

Later that evening, when our house was quite, Paul and I were discussing sleeping arrangements – who would sleep where. Jaime quietly watched. After I had showered and was sitting to put socks on my cold feet, my husband said, “Tina, Jamie wants you, “ I could see both of them from where I was sitting, and since I hadn’t heard Jamie say a word, I wasn’t overly rushed or concerned. Paul and again: “Tina, Jamie wants you. He squeezed my hand and I know we he wants you.” I calmly walked towards the door of his bedroom. As I entered his room, he looked at me with both eyes wide open. (This was unusual, since the cancer had affected his right eye and he had been unable to open it.) Then he shakily lifted both arms open wide, palms up. My first reaction was that something was wrong, and I quickly went to him and scooped him up in my arms and held him close. He was sitting in my lap, and his dad was holding his hand as he took his last breath and relaxed against me, letting go as he went home to be with the Lord.

I thank God everyday for letting me be with Jamie when he died. As devastating as it is to have lost my son, not to have been present and to have held him a as he died would have been more than I could have borne. God in his wisdom understood this. He also honored a promise that a mother had made to her son and did not take Jamie home until he was ready to go. God truly is a God who comforts. I do not pretend to understand his wisdom, nor do  I pretend happy with his decision to take Jamie to himself. I do look forward, however, to being reunited with my son when God calls me home too.

Especially the death of my son has removed my fears and uncertainties surrounding death. Since I was a young child, I have believed in Jesus’ promise of everlasting life, but that transition called death was always just a little bit scary to me. Watching Jamie die with such grace and complete trust in Paul, me and God has removed my fears. I now see death as a short journey. The bible tells us that getting to heaven does not take longer than a day. Dying is simply a journey from our life on earth to our eternal home. While I am eager to live, I am also eager to take the journey when God calls me. I will go without fear, knowing that Jamie will be there along with Jesus and the angels that guided him into the life that is without tears and without end. Jamie was not perfect, but the had a kind and good heart, I pray that God will give me a heart for him, like the heart he gave my son, and I repeat a wise man’s words:

Give me a pure heart, that I may see Thee.

A humble heart, that I may hear Thee,

A heart of love. That I may serve Thee,

A heart of faith, that I may abide with Thee

Salamat sa AMERICA Magazine

By Sr. Caroline Granil, fmdm

To every young person who is now reading my letter, I send you my love and a message that “I care”!

Because of my article in the July-August issue Misyon Magazine, several of you have written and I did try to reply.

I want to ask you to concentrate in your studies so that from this moment on you begin to become the person that God has dreamt for you to be.

I myself an auntie of young nieces and nephews and so, I can empathize with you. Also I have relatives working abroad whose children are back in the Philippines. Likewise I have regular contracts with many ‘kababayans’ who are slaving away their jobs only to have enough dollars to send back home for their children. Such parents when they hear news about young people back home involved in child prostitution and drug abuse, their poor hearts quake with fear and sorrow, especially if they haven’t heard from their children lately. To some of you I did advise strongly to write regularly to your parent (s ) abroad even if they don’t write back as often as you write to them. Be there support especially in your prayers for them at the Holy Mass. Sometimes a homesick mothers sighs and says “Ah Sister, if only I could get one letter from my son show is now in High School, just to say ‘thank you” Mama for the pen that you sent me.” another one would say “I was talking with my family on the phone the other night and we were all excited but somehow I knew in my heart that I was longing for them to say “Mama we love you.”

How about the children back home, what do they say? Sister, I asked my Mommy to save up so that she could then come back and be with us for good. We don’t want much money, what matters is for us to be together again.” Another one said, My Mama was on the phone yesterday and she just nagged at me because I didn’t do well in school, and she threatened not to send money anymore if don’t do better next time.” Then there are the cases when eventually the children are able to join the parent(s) abroad. A mother complained, “Sister, (s) he’s so stubborn. I don’t seem to recognize the child I once knew!”

Above are but a few realities among others about our Filipino life at home and abroad. I’m appealing to all readers. Young and adult. To examine ourselves before God and ask Him how and in what way we, individually, could redeem ourselves from our society’s malady of child prostitution (60, 000 in Manila alone_ and drug abuse?

As of now I have one in mind among others that you, with the help of the Holy Spirits, might think of yourselves life, health , good relationships, money, prestige, more of this and more of that.

So my dear young ones, God in Jesus is saying “If you love me you will keep my word and my Fathers will love you and we shall come to you and make our home in you.” (John 14:23). Will you also take God as your number one so that all will be well for you? Please pray for me too, thank you.

By Fr. Michael O’ Neill, ssc

Slavery continued in Brazil long after it had been abolished in other countries. The slaves originally wrenched from Africa became the underclass of society. They kept alive their African religions and these are reemerging today as a challenge to the Church.

“I’ve never before seen an 18 year-old fellow dance totally unselfconsciously in the middle of the street as a hi-fi played music from just outside a window. He was totally preoccupied, totally caught up in the dance and didn’t even notice anyone pass-by. He was just absorbed. And this was at 11 o’ clock in the morning.”

That was how Fr. Adrian Carbery described the importance of rhythm and dance in the Afro Brazilian culture of Salvador, a city of about two million people of whom 85 percent are black. In the total population of Brazil (more that 150 million people) 44 percent are black. They are the descendants of slaves brought from Africa through the port Salvador, the original capital of Brazil, to work for the early Portuguese.

Links with Africa

“The type of music they play and even their hair-styles have a lot of links with Africa and there are black consciousness movements very similar to the anti-discrimination and anti-racist campaigns that occurred in the United States and the anti-apartheid campaign in South Africa,” added Fr. Colin McLean.

I was visiting the Columban parish of Malvinas and talking with Frs. Colin McLean, Adrian Carbery and Cyril Lovett about the uniqueness of Salvador. Even to the visitor like myself Salvador is quite evidently not just Brazilian but Afro-Brazilian. The great footballer, Pele, for so long a folk hero to all Brazilians is black and therefore Afro-Brazilian.

No Black Faces

The poor, the deprived and the discriminated against in Salvador are almost always Afro-Brazilian who live in the squatter settlements, the favelas, on the outskirts of the City. If they are lucky enough to have jobs (the unemployment rate among them is very high) they are nearly always in the menial occupations. “You rarely find blacks faces you see are those sweeping the corridors, cleaning the toilets and serving at the fast food counters,” says Colin McLean. “Many people arrive at the airport and find it difficult to believe that Salvador is such a black city because it is not immediately visible to them.”

You rarely find black faces in the government or even in the church. Job advisement will often have the phrase, applicants must be of good appearance a not very subtle euphemism for if you are black don’t apply.’

For the missionaries the great challenge in Salvador is to realize and be aware of who these people are and the African roots from which their culture and religious sense comes.

Candomble

Candomble is the Afro-Brazilian religion of most black people in Salvador. It is derived from the religion of the Orixas, or intermediary spirits of West Africa, principally Nigeria and Benin. Slaves brought to Brazil from these areas by the Portuguese colonist were automatically baptized on arrival in Salvador but here was no instruction.

They kept their original beliefs which were condemned and forbidden by the Church. When they gather together in secret as a subterfuge they gave their Orixas the identity of popular Catholic saints.

“The intermediary spirits of Africa took on the personality of our saints and angels,” says Fr. Colin.Candomble would seem to be a monotheistic religion. The one, supreme Olorum created the world. Then he created the Orixas to interact with nature and deal with human beings. It is easy to se how Catholicism, with its spiritual hierarchy of angels and saints, found a ready home for the religion of theOrixas.

Serious students of Candomble find an inculturated African religious experience that merits respect. The problem, of course, enters when the Candomble devotee, if asked, professes to be a catholic. Very few of them will profess to be devotees of Candomble: after all this religion was officially prohibited by law until 1976.

Dialogue Necessary

It seems to me that the problem we face is an inability to recognize that the African religions are religions in their won right”, says Cyril. “The only sound starting point is to respect that religion and to treat it as worthy of dialogue. Catholicism in Europe, “he went on to say “has its own folk elements, its own popular devotions and a certain amount of superstitions built into it, too.

The second steps, he believes, should be “to look at what is most valuable in this religion which has come from a totally different environment in Africa, which has passed through the suffering of slave culture for 300 years but is still alive and well flourishing.

“We should approached dialogue from the point of view of what do we have learn from this religion which speaks so deeply to these people. Learning something from them would enable us to fulfill better our task of evangelizing them.”

Ecology

Candomble is very much a religion tied in with ecology. Its spirits are guardians not just of people but also of all the forces of nature; the forest, the winds, the fire, the seas. “There’s a whole dimension here that over the centuries of Christianity we have lost. It’s certainly something we can learn from Candomble,” says Colin.

Participation

What strikes Cyril is the total contrast between the two liturgies, Catholic and Candomble. In the latter there is a high level of participation by practically everybody present but, unlike Catholicism, practically no importance is given to the Word. On the other hand some Catholics are shocked at the suggestion that there could be some body movement even as we sing. That is our condition.

Compares Brazil and Philippines

For Fathers Cyril and Colin, both of whom worked for eleven and ten years respectively in the Philippines, the only common elements between the Philippines and Brazil is their poverty. Says Colin: “Although many Filipinos wouldn’t participate a lot in church services, they have a knowledge of the story of Jesus, which has been passed on to them through their Passion plays.” In the Afro-Brazilian peripheries of Salvador this is not so. “I even had some kids in our community asking me: What is the picture of the Last Super? What does it mean? What is the story behind it?”

Cyril, contrasting his experiences of the value systems of Brazil and the Philippines, says: “In Salvador the Church has the opportunity to help the people to empower themselves by the formation of small Christian communities so that little by little they will begin to take charge of their own destinies, make themselves agents of their own liberation. Community is very important among Afro-Brasilians whereas I would put smooth interpersonal relations at the top of the Filipino scale of important values.

Oxossi, Nana & Yanza: Some of Candomble’s Orixas. These African intermediary spirits in a syncretised version correspond to the Catholic saints: St. George, St. Barbara and St. Anne.

Job advertisements will often have the phrase, applicants must be of good appearance; a not very subtle euphemism for ‘if you are black, don’t apply’.

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Pedestrian

It was a newly painted pedestrian crossing at Sunyani junction. Children are supposed to pick up a red placard waving it to the drivers wile walking to the other side. Just when we were about to cross a child ran across without a placard and simultaneously. Sr. Brenda Guieb, SSpS an I shouted in panic, “Eh, eh, eh...while screeching to a halt. Luckily we missed the boy by just half inch. After a moment, I sighed. “What perfect collaboration between an SVD and an SSpS sister.”

Dimalas

Mr. Martin Doklah, a high school teacher in Chiranda, was our Church president. He cut one of his fingers while weeding around his house on Sunday afternoon. “I am not going to work anymore on a Sunday; not at all,” he told me while listening to him without saying anything. He knew I was going to tell him the same thing.

Menopause

Karafe, Bitters’ is the name of a local concoction well advertised in Ghana. It can cure many kinds of diseases the advertisement says. A parishioner bought one for me because of my stomach trouble. True enough, the label read: “ Karafe Bitters : Kooko Fighter No. 1. A herbal preparation of potent curing ability for many diseases. INDICATIONS: Internal piles, hemorrhoids, debility, male weakness, barrenness, irregular and painful menstruation, stroke, stomach ulcer, diabetes, gout and as an appetizer. After reading “painful menstruation”, I became suspicious and decided not to use it.

Stood Up

Miss Elizabeth Alhasan and her companions from Kintampo Rural Health Training School made an appointment with me but failed to honor it. The following day they came and apologized, “Sorry, Father, we deceived you yesterday.” “Don’t worry this is not the first time people deceived me,” I said approvingly.

Where are the Ashes?

Mr. Andrews Numa, our catechist in Busuama confided to me why every Easter Sunday morning they see no traces of the ashes of bonfire they made on Holy Saturday evening. They discovered that the pagans, already in the early morning hours would go and scoop all the ashes to scatter them over their farm believing that the ashes are endowed with some power. “They have more faith than you, “I said. “No wonder they have bigger tubers of yams (Ghana’s staple food) and harvest more than you,”  I added with a twinkle in my eyes.

Spring Cleaning

“What did you do during Holy Thursday?” I asked David Krah, our catechist in Asantekwa. Beaming with delight he said, “We washed our feet, Father.” Then he went on to tell me with pride that they did not wash the only the twelve people chosen to represent the apostles but of the whole congregation!

Beware!

With me were a group of Catholics from Kintampo. We stopped at Techiman Hospital run by the Medical Missionary Sisters to visit one of our members. I noticed one member of our group did not join us in the hospital. Out of curiosity I asked her why. “Father, my black clothes.” To visit sick person here, one must not wear red, black or any color associated with funeral attire. Otherwise the sick person may think you are wishing him good-bye forever.

Columban Fr. Michael Gormly has been monitoring the arrival of Australian mining companies to the Philippines. It worries him that the local people are not really being consulted. Disaster and death are the consequences! Here he tells us of his efforts.

Danger Signals

From mid 1996 my Columban colleagues in the Philippines began to contact me with a growing concern at the arrival of Australian based companies seeking mining concession in ecologically sensitive areas –named in many cases as ancestral domains of tribal people. The transnational quest for mineral wealth became an issue for joint consideration in both countries. We were challenged to face the core issue about what can be done when powerful political, commercial and technical forces threaten a powerless community of the poor.

Marked approached

The World Bank, began a few years ago spelling out conditions for a recovery strategy for the Philippines based on the country’s mineral resources. The Ramos Administration then sought to fast track an economic solution for the new millennium. It meant a program of liberating and deregulating the national economy in order to achieve higher levels of economic development. A market-orientated approach took precedence over development strategies in favour of the poor.

Generous Come-ons

In March 1995, President Ramos instituted a new system of mineral resources development by encouraging the entry of foreign mining companies with generous incentives. The transnational mining corporation sought a slice of the action, with Australian based firms tothe fore.  The whole matter was passed off as a business investment coup by the Manila leadership.  Consultation with the constituency was not a high priority in Manila. The central government claimed the natural resources of the nation in the cause of the economy.

Push from Australia

The Australian Government encouraged companies to make the most of offshore opportunities, suggesting that no group would act more responsibly, in terms of respecting the social, cultural and natural environment. The word from Canberra was that the interest of the indigenous people would be of particular concern to Australians with experience and expertise in this area. Further, any form of sustained economic development would ultimately ensure a decent livelihood for all the people. Important human, social and political factors are conveniently neglected in this scenario.

Worlds largest

In August, I made contact with the CRA headquarters in Melbourne, bringing the Midsalip concerns directly to the company and seeking clariication on policy and postures overseas. I especially sought evidence of a company code concerning consultation with indigenous peoples, and of standards relating to the environment protection of a landscape. The matter was all the more relevant when the merger of CRA (formerly Conzinc Rio Tinto Australia) with the London based mining giant TRZ (formerly Rio Tinto Zinc) resulted in the creation of the world’s largest mining corporation.

Pagadi-an Case

I believe that in the rush to establish advantage in the Philippines, through a subsidiary named Tropical Exploration Philippines Incorporated (TEPI), recognition and respect for the local peoples in the Pagadian district of Zamboanga del Sur was forgotten. Consultations were characterized by glossy presentation and technical assurances about exploration and modern mining practices. Listening, especially listening to the fears and anxieties of the local people, was, minimal. In my conservations I have insisted that listening to concerns in order to explain them away will never satisfy.

Philippine Environment Secretary, Victor Ramos, holds that a complete airing of people's concers will be taken care of in the administrative provisions of the mining code.  He claims that if clear signals relating to social acceptability and environmental hazaeds are made, then authorities will listen.  Again, the quaity of this listening is crucial.  Clearly local and expatriate officials need to recognize that community consultation is not just a haphazard accomplishment in favour of the government or corporations.

Not a Spectator Sport

The Philippines mining saga is by no means over, but there has been some learning along the way. There will always be considerable scope for discord and conflict over the use of natural resources. If tensions and tragedies are to be avoided, concern for the interest of all citizens must be high among the values informing the conduct of transnational mining.

The discourse of the elite must be placed under scrutiny and the voice of local communities heard With respect. This is not a spectator sport. We are all called to be participants.

New Head for Pontifical Mission

A New Head

The Pontifical Mission Society on the Philippines has a new head. None other than Fr. Peter M. Mesiona, msp. This was announced a t the pontifical Mission Annual Meeting in Tagaytay last July.

Merger

Not only that, from now on the Philippine Bishops’ own missionary group known as the Episcopal Commission on Mission will merge, so to speak, with the pope’s group. Fr. Mesiona will head the two groups in the Philippines.

International Meeting

The 2nd Assembly of the Animators was held here in the Philippines last September 22-26, an honor for the Philippines which now has more than 2, 000 missionaries abroad and 5 million Catholic migrants who should be the missionaries for the Asia for the new millennium 

By Sr. Ma. Lupecina N. Amamio, rvm

I have been a misyonera in two countries: Ghana, West Africa and Papua New Guinea (1991 to present). I was always assigned in the capital cities of both countries. Accra and Port Moresby respectively, where I enjoyed the ease and comforts of a metropolitan life. This year, I was summoned to answer the call to the wilds. Life has become more exciting, more challenging and more meaningful since then.

Teaching at Bema

I was asked to join the teaching staff of Bema Provincial High School. It wasn’t difficult to say yes knowing that my fellow RVM Sisters are already there since 1980. My only reservation was the means of transportation. Roads are non-existent in most parts of Papua New Guinea. The only available transports are small one-engine planes. (Which I dread most) and a tractor. Then came the day when I had to leave Port Moresby which had been my home for the previous three years. I set off by plane for Kaintaba via Kerema. At Kaintaba airstrip a tractor awaited for me and off we went to start my journey at Bema. The thick forest that I had to cross was fascinating. It was adorned with beautiful wild orchids and marvelous waterfalls. It was indeed a paradise with its fauna and flora.

Re-Learning

I started teaching. I have a Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Science degree in Education, but I haven’t practiced my teaching profession for ages. I was the only new teacher in school, in a country not my own. I felt like a fish out of water. I had to learn a lot of new terminology like Class Patron (class adviser), Roll Book (class register) Day Book (lesson plan), Period Sheet (grading sheet). Records Card (permanent record), Headmistress (principal), and many more. Classes start at 8:00 a.m. but we have to be in school by 7:30 for the assembly, and end at 1:40 p.m. I had to adjust to my new time table. I really felt uncomfortable in the milieu I was in, but I just kept trying to give my best.

I must confess that I was just one night ahead of the students. Burning the midnight oil was a nightly routine because I could give what I did not have. But in no time I adjusted to the rhythm of everyday life and I am very happy where I am now. of course, the credit goes to the Greatest Teacher!

By Fr. Melanio Viuya Jr., cicm

Mango Trees Galore

I was sitting near the tam-tam, suspended for years in front of the parish priest’s office which leads to the stairs going to the refectory. I was enjoying the marvel of nature by looking at the fragile mango trees planted by the missionaries of the parish of Yakamba. A few weeks ago, these trees aligned near the road, seemed to show some signs of death because of the most unbearable heat of the equatorial sun. Yet, now their branches have become so heavy with fruits that they seem to kneel in order to beseech people to start picking some. Since no one listen to their supplication they break their branches to the joy of the children who frequent our yard. However, the birds of the sky don’t let themselves be pushed around. They have already claimed their humble share.

Other Fruit

At the back of the house, near the kitchen, at the vegetable garden and along the track which leads to it, there are different sorts of fruit trees: oranges, avocado, safou, cherry, mango, banana. It’s the same thing that at the sister’s place, our neighbors. They have mango trees laden with fruits.

Caught in the Act

Yesterday, they told me a story about these trees. During the night when normally everyone is asleep (almost) the mangoes fall to the ground one after the other, sometimes two by two. The sound of which becomes like music wit ha fine rhythm that induces more sleep on those who are already asleep, including the vigilant security guards. The sisters who rise earlier than the guards have surprised some young girls from the school dormitory who were in their yard with pails brimful of mangoes on their heads. Seeing the sisters on their way to the chapel, they got afraid and without delay threw the pails on the ground and run away. Small as may be the crime, the sisters were not all that happy to see their mangoes leaving their yard without their knowing it. The only word which escaped from their mouth was: “Why don’t you plant fruit trees in your own yards so that you could also have mangoes?” The young girls escaped from the compound in silence.

On one occasion I had had the misfortune to hear a response to a similar question. I forbade a young boy from casting stones and sticks at the mangoes because it was dangerous for the roof of the house. He got angry and throwing the stones and the sticks on the ground he asked me: “Did you plant these trees yourself? Well, consume them all!” Then he went off chanting the same question. This conversation took place four years ago, when I’d just arrived in Yakamba. Smiling, I started to beat leisurely the tam-tam which is a witness to the different event taking place in the parish. The Christians beat the tam-tam when a new missionary arrives at the parish or when a missionary of the parish arrives from his vacation. Yet this time this tam-tam prefers to keep quit. But why?

Comes the Rain

All of a student I heard a far-off yet increasing and approaching noise. It was that powerful wind which almost always brings with it the rain. The latter is equally powerful because it can provoke the unexpected miscarriage of mango fruits when it rains too little or too much. The arrival of the wind and of the rain was not delayed. Hardly had I risen up to see from which direction it was coming but it was whipping the mango trees as well as the coconut trees. Together, they chased away the white herons, migrated from afar, who were enjoying the ripe mangoes ready for the harvest. The tiny weaver birds were also disturbed by this unwelcome rain.

Wind fall

Then more than fifteen young boys and girls came running like chickens freed from captivity outdoing one another to catch the morning worms. The children arrived without delay braving the rain and wind and the risk of being hit by the falling branches and mango fruits. All of a sudden, some were stretching their hands as if to tell their companions: This is my territory, all mangoes that fall with this area are mine!” while the others raised their eyes full of hope that any moment from now some fruits would fall. Each time a mango fell, two or three children would dive in to pick it up.

Free for all

The children enjoy rolling on the ground. What a scene! They rise up full of mud and cowdung – soft and sticky because of the rain. They look one another in order to discover who got the best fruit. Then the scrapping begins. One has to fight in order to win the prize. One has to take the risks in order to get the other’s mango fruit. These children know very well what their ancestor say: He who loves to eat chicken meat must learn to love also the chicken’s dirt. Some of the other children prefer to stand beside me, protected from the rain, afraid that their one and only set of clothes already tattered, would get wet. They are there hoping that their brothers and sisters well give them a mango or two.

By Gee-Gee Torres

We sent our editorial assistant, Gee-Gee Torres, to Thailand to visit our Filipino missionaries. Her task was to visit each of the 10 different groups of Filipino missionaries and report back for Misyon. She found no less than 70 Filipino missionaries there. Here she shares an overview of her journey.

Misyon Assignment

I was thrilled at the thought of being in another country. I was especially excited because this was my first time to go abroad and I would somehow experience missionary life. This trip was a big challenge for me. I had no companion. I didn’t know the people I was going to meet. I couldn’t speak Thai.

Arrival in Bangkok

The plane landed in Bangkok International Airport just after midnight. I wondered if Sr. Deanna, RA, our Filipino contact, was at the waiting area. After I got my baggage I went to the waiting area. It was a great relief when I saw a sister wearing the familiar Assumption habit among the crowd. I approached the sister and hesitantly asked if she was Sr. Deanna. The sister smiled and said, “No, I’m Sr. Rosa, Are you Gee-Gee?” “Yes, Sister,’ I answered, Sr. Rosa called Sr. Cata who was also waiting for me at the other end of the of the arrival area. Then the three of us got a taxi and headed into downtown Bangkok to the Assumption Convent. When we arrived at the convent it was so quit. We sneaked into the house, drank a glass of water and retired to our rooms.

Meeting the Assumption Community

I woke up late in the morning. Everybody was out except for Sr. Cata. At lunch time I finally met the other members of the Filipino Assumption Community in Thailand – Sr. Deanna, superior, Srs. Leonie and Luchi. I enjoyed listening to their humorous stories about their missionary life. And during the meal Sr. Deanna announced to the first group my first destination: the Northeast. I was going to Thare Province the next day with Srs. Rosa and Luchi. A 10-hour bus ride!

Off the Thare

We went to the bus station early in the morning. I wasn’t bored at all during the trip because I had a terrific ‘tourist’ guide beside me, Sr. Rosa. She brought with her a comprehensive map of Thailand! She told me where we were by tracing the places on the map. Then she kept me awake with interesting stories about her mission life in Thailand. I enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the country-side -- mountain ranges covered with trees, Buddhist temples in the forests, vast farmlands with different crops. What caught my attention most was the wide, concrete roads in the provinces. It was well-paved (compared to my home province in Negros) that I hardly noticed we were already in Thare.

First Thai Mass

We stayed the night at the Sisters Lovers of the Cross Convent (SLC), one of the biggest religious congregations in Thailand. All the sisters were Thai. I heard my first mass in Thai here. I couldn’t understand a single word. But I knew in what part of the mass we were. And as I listened to the mass, I felt God was assuring me that everything would turn out well.

Mekong River

The next day we went to Song Kohn. Sr. Maritz, osa twisted the arm of Fr. Anthony, the rector of Fatima Minor Seminary, to drive for us. We visited the Land of Seven Blessed Martyrs of Thailand. (More on this in a later issue o f the magazine.) The river behind the chapel of the Seven Blessed Martyrs was the Mekong River, one of the great rivers of the world. It forms the border between Thailand and Laos. I had never seen a river as wide as this in my life.

Daughters of Charity

From Thare I moved north to Udon Province. There I met Sr. Juana, a Filipino sister of the Daughters of Charity. She invited me to visit her place in Loei Province. She runs a center which helps the handicapped become self-reliant by teaching them different crafts. There are all in all 40 Filipino DCs in Thailand. Some teach English to kindergarten students; others take care of the handicapped. AIDS patients and the lepers.

Filipino Priests

There are also many Filipino priests from different orders in Thailand. They are assigned in different provinces. Some are running a parish; there were involved in youth groups or teaching in universities. I hope to cover their marvelous work in my subsequent articles.

First Train Ride

I had my train ride in my life when I visited the Franciscan Sister of Immaculate Conception (SFIC) in Ubon. It was great. The trip took 10 hours; the train left Bangkok at 9:00 pm and arrived in Ubon at 7:00 am. We were met at the train station by Srs. Beth and Agnes, sfic who woke up at 4:00 am and drove all the way to the station just to meet me and my companion.

100th Year in Thailand

The Filipino sisters of St. Paul in Bangkok invited me to attend their celebration of the 100th anniversary of Saint Paul de Chartes (SPC in Thailand. The celebration started with a mass, followed by a beautiful play. Saul of Tarsus, and there was an exhibit of the different works in the SPCs.

Catholic Media

Sr. Cora Demalerio, fsp, on the other hand, is working in the Catholic Social Communications in Thailand. They produce a weekly Catholic newsletter called Udornsam and they also have tv and radio programs for evangelization.

Night Duty

We visited the Carmelite Missionaries in Ratchaburi. We had lunch at their place and went to visit the 3 villages where they do pastoral work. I was surprised to know that they travel 13 kilometers late at night just to do their duty.

Salute to our Filipino Missionaries

In my visit to Thailand, I had traveled many miles to many places. But one thing I would always remember about my trip is the commitment of our Filipino missionaries to their mission. I admire their patience in learning the Thai language, dedication in teaching, courage in braving the night to do home visitations, love and care for the disabled and handicapped, the lepers and the AIDS patients.

Thank You

 

I would like to say thank you to all the people who took care of me while I was in Thailand. I deeply appreciate all the help you have extended to me, my article is just a glimpse of my trip. I didn’t go into details because we will be featuring more stories about you and my visit in the upcoming issues of Misyon.

By Fr. Raymond Husband

Last year we had a blistering hot Good Friday afternoon. Well before three o’ clock Mariano Cagula set out with his wife Nena and their children for their barrio chapel to attend the ceremonies. They went with a light step and delight in their hearts because Mariano had been chosen to play the part of Christ in the Passion. This was big honor for Mariano, and he took great pride in being chose one. The community of his barrio. San Vicente, in the Philippines had chosen him because of his commitment and dedication. Mariano had spent the morning learning his lines and had been assured by Nena they were correct.

For many Filipinos, Good Friday is the most important day in the Church calendar. Churches and chapels are full to capacity many hours before the ceremonies begin. The people identify their sufferings with those of Christ, and thus the ceremonies hold great meaning for them.

The chapel of San Vicente, like all others, was overflowing with people. At three o’ clock the ceremonies began and Mariano played his part impressively. Just as he spoke the words, “It is finished,” a shout pierced the silence of the chapel, “Fire! Fire!” rang though the air, Mariano and the others run in the direction of the smoke, discovering to his horror that it was his home that was on fire.

There was nothing that anyone could because the fire was too far advanced. In desperation Mariano and Nena watched as everything they owned consumed by the flames. They literally were left with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. Their pig and cow. Tied beneath the house, also died in the blaze. Sorrowfully Mariano and Nena and their children were taken away from the scene and given shelter by their neighbors.

On Easter Sunday morning I was able to visit Mariano and Nena. Two days after the fire, Nena could not bear to look at the place where once her home had stood. I thought of the death of my own father a few moths earlier in a house fire. I could emphasize with her and feel her sense of loss. Words alone could not ease the pain but the concern and the care of the neighbors did help Mariano and Nena, as they helped me.

While I stood there looking at the place where there had been a happy home just two days before, a sense of loss came over me. It was the voice of Mariano that lifted my spirits, “Father, I thank God I have my family, my friends and my neighbors. We lost our home but not our hope. Today Christ is Risen and He will help us to build our live again. We put our trust in Him.” On that Easter morning he helped me to recognize the Risen Lord in the midst of suffering. For that, and for the people like Mariano I am truly grateful.

By Fr. Steve Tynan

Money, money, money must be funny in a rich man’s world.

These lyrics come from a song by Abba written in the midst of the excesses of the ’70 and ‘80s. In a certain way, these words capture something of a sentiment that can be hidden in all of our hearts. Perhaps it is expressed even more succinctly in the cry Russian peasant Topol in Fiddler on the Roof,“If I were a rich man...”

Today it is an often heard sentiment, “if I won lot of money, after spending some on myself, family and friends. I would give some to the poor.” Would you really?

Is it wrong to desire to be rich? Probably not. However, is this the sort of desire that God wants us to spend our efforts trying to fulfill? I do not think so! It is all a question of priority and living in reality. We would spend the rest of our lives dreaming about having riches and what we would do with them. But that would not serve any useful purpose except our won disillusionment, which come to think of it, is not really terribly useful! I think God would much prefer us to live in the here and now and seek to bring about His Kingdom with what resources we have at our disposal, rather than forever wishing that our situation be different.

Jesus warned His disciples that they could not serve both God and money (Mathew 6:24). What does Jesus mean by this? Money and God cannot have equal status in our lives. One will inevitably take priority. This is why we must beg God for the grace to choose Him over and above anyone or anything else in our lives.

The Focal Point of our Desires

St. Augustine writes at the beginning of his autobiography The Confessions, that since God has created us for union with Himself, our hearts are restless until they rest in Him. It is clear to Augustine that the focal point of our desires, if we want fulfillment in our lives, must be God and His Kingdom and not the things of the kingdom of this world (Mathew 6:33).

The happiest people I meet in my ministry as a priest are rarely the richest in fact, the simpler a person’s life, the less cluttered with ‘thing’ the happier he seems to be. Think of Mother Theresa. She had so few possessions yet would people who ever lived!  Why? Her heart, mind and soul were set on eternal life – not the things of this world which will ultimately perish (Matthew 19:21).

What is the deepest desire of your heart, the treasure of your heart? St. Paul reminds us that the treasure we carry in our hearts is the death and resurrection of Jesus! 2 Corinthians 4: 7-12) If Christ is the true treasure and desire of our hearts then what room is there for the desire to be rich? Only the little room, I would think! The love of and desire for God is something which will consume and overcome all other desires if we are growing in holiness each day.

This is the experience of St. Francis of Assisi, the son of a wealthy cloth merchant, who on encountering Jesus in his life found that the wealth of his family meant nothing to him any more. Consequently, he forsook the wealth in favor of his new true love: Lady Poverty! In discovering his nothingness before God, St. Francis discovered an even greater truth: the truth of Divine Providence; that God’s provision was enough for Him (Matthew 6: 25-34).

There is a particular Scripture verse that we need to consider in some detail:

But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and hurtful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evils; it wandered away from the faith and pierced their hearts with many fangs. (1Timothy 6:9-10).

This verse urges us to examine what the true focus of our desires should be. It also reminds us of the astonishment of the apostles when Jesus said it is harder for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle (Mark 10: 25). These are only two of many texts that warn the believer of the dangers of riches.

St. Paul, in his letter to Timothy, says the desire for wealth can be our downfall! Why? Because the desire for wealth can very easily consume a person to the point that the true focus for his life, namely relationships with God, is lost – if not completely, then at least partially.

First, The Kingdom

Matthew 6: 33 reads: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these other things (food, clothes, house, etc,) will be yours also. This is not to say that we do not have a responsibility to take care of our marital needs and those of others’. But that the ordering of our hearts’ desire must reflect that our ultimate fulfillment rests in our relationships with God and not in the material thing of this world. It is precisely to this truth that the many Christian martyrs attest.

Are you willing to be a martyr for your faith? Are you willing to put Jesus above and before everything else in your life?

It is only Jesus who is capable of bringing you true fulfillment that will give you a constant peace in your heart. Think back to the tragedy of Princess Diana’s death. We were told that for more reason or another her life was not one of fulfillment. She wanted to retire and live away from the public eye. I wonder what her initial feelings, expectations and desires were when she agreed to marry Prince Charles? I wonder if she thought the wealth and fame would or could contribute to her happiness as a person. Sadly the answers was, ‘No.’ All her wealth and fame had brought her little fulfillment. In fact it had brought her much anguish and pain and, some say, contributed not a little to her tragic death.

On the other hand, when we consider the death of Mother Theresa, we have very different reflection. Here is a woman who had almost nothing in the way of material possession yet, I would argue, was almost totally fulfilled in her experience of life. She had one focus: to serve God with all that she had. And she did it! She did not need any personal wealth to be fulfilled because she recognized that the type of fulfillment that will last forever comes from a totally different source, and that source is Jesus Christ. We take nothing of the material riches we have in this world into the next. Therefore, it makes a lot of sense to be judicial and temperate in our use of these riches in this life.

There is nothing inherently wrong with being rich. But if the riches begin to consume your life by choice or by default, then there is a problem – and usually a big one at that! They say that the richer you are, the richer you desire to be. Money is seductive in the same way that power can be seductive in the same way that power can be seductive. And neither can buy salvation just as neither can by lasting love and friendship.

The problem wit money or, for that matter, any material possession, comes when it begins to control them. Consider the creation account in Genesis 1: 28-30.

God gives us stewardship or dominion over all created things. He does not give us owner-ship as such. Everything still belongs to God. When we in our pride begin to appropriate ownership of created things for ourselves, we move outside of God’s will for us.

For example, no person today considers slavery to be morally justifiable. It is not correct for a person to be owned by another person. Similarly the natural and created wealth of the world: no country, corporation or individual really owns anything in an absolute sense. Yes, they may have temporary ownership of land, houses, etc., but this ownership ought to be more correctly seen as stewardship in the light of the Gospel. Why? The psalmist often affirms that all created things belong to God. If this is the case then we have been entrusted with their use not just for our humanity. We do not so much as own benefit and the benefit of others.

They say that the richer you are, the richer you desire to be.

Salamat sa Kerygma

By Sr. Rosalinda Gonzales, mmm

Sr. Rosalinda is the only Filipino member of the Medical Missionaries of Mary. She is looking after the Kabanga Hospital, much overcrowded since the war in Rwanda. Here she shares with us the heartaches and joys of keeping it all going for them.

I owe you a crate of beer,” Mr. Wim Piels announced when I met him. I was at the Diocesan Development Office at the Bishop’s compound in Kigoma one day in August last year when I literally bumped into Mr. Wim. He is the consultant for Caritas/Memisa (Netherlands) and was visiting the Diocesan Development Office which is under the support of Caritas.

I took his unusual statement about the beer as a promise if and when my application for relief doctors and basic hospitals equipments would be approved by Memisa.

Two years previously, I had submitted the application to Memisa for these requests for Kabanga Hospitals.

In January last year, a Dutch volunteer doctor was sponsored by Memisa to help in Kabanga Hospitals for three months. The recent influx or refugees from Zaire and Burundi in October of the previous year necessitated the opening of three additional refugee camps. Kabanga Hospitals is a referral hospital of the refugees apart from its being a referral hospital for leprosy patients.

There is a perennial problem of shortage of doctors in Kabanga Hospitals due to its remoteness. To help alleviate this on-going problem, the hospitals, management was given special permission by the local government health authorities to allow our anaesthetic officers to join the doctor’s list. Apart from him I had no other assisting doctor after the Memisa Volunteer doctors left in March.

Due to the heavy workload, we got a loan on an ‘on-and-off basis of a Tanzanian doctor from Kasulu Government Hospitals for almost a year. It was a great disappointment that the Tanzanian doctors left in July. He had been sponsored in his post in his post-graduate studies by MMM and Kigoma Diocese in return for his services. After one year, he requested to transfer to a more progressive hospital.

Amidst those unexpected events, the Lord of love and compassion provided the courage and strength to inspire the MMM Regional Superior however hoped that I would be able to go home for Christmas. On my part, I surrendered to circumstances so that I could continue to serve wholeheartedly.

To my great relief, Sr. Dr. Maria Borda, mmm agreed come to help out as doctor in charge of Kabanga Hospital while I am away whenever that happens.

Then one evening in September, Mr. Wim and the diocesan health secretary arrived at our Convent in Kabanga with a crate of beer, I could not believe my eyes. It was really a crate of beer and not just a figure of speech as I took it before.

This meant that my project submitted to MEMISA was approved. The equipments would be coming. Some volunteer doctors will work in Kabanga Hospitals on a short term (six weeks to three months) and long term (one year) basis.

My most wonderful gift was that I was home for Christmas. Praise the Lord.

This is part one of a three-part series from Msgr. Desmond Hartford’s Diary while he was taken captive in Mindanao. Rebel returnees, who were overdue their payment from the Government, kidnapped the intrepid priest in the hope of pressuring g the government, Fr. Hartford tells the day to day odyssey in his own words.

Monday 27 October

This morning when Fr. Rufil and myself reached the beach we were told that the rest of the group were waiting for us in a school above the town. When we  arrived we were put into a jeepney and driven for about 30 minutes into the mountains. Here Fr. Rufil was released and sent back to negotiate with government officials. I was to be kept hostage until the demands were met. We walked for about two more hours. My eight captors are heavily armed. One shot a wild bird which we ate with some rice. Then I asked them to allow me time to pray. We talked in Visayan and Mindanao. They are friendly. I feel peaceful, without fear. But numbed by the experience of betrayal.

Tuesday 28 October

We spend today in a house. I was able to send a note to Fr. Rodrigo Sebial telling him of my position and welfare. My captors told me they are demanding 13 million pesos from the government. I have my bag and so am able to read my breviary and I also have my little radio. I heard the BBC World Service News from London. The local Ozamis radio said nothing about me. The food today was rice without salt. I made two requests, that I be given time to pray and given boiled water to drink. I fell asleep around 7:30 p.m. but was wakened at 9 p.m. by a commotion. Some of those who had gone to town had returned saying the army had been mobilized. We hiked a further 30 minutes into the mountains and set up camp in an opening in the forest. My captors prepared a makeshift shelter for me, a few planks of wood covered by leaves of nipa palm. It is a starry night, millions of stars in view. It reminds me of God’s promise to Abraham. Having to move location and sleep in the open makes me apprehensive. However I sleep until it begins to rain. I am amazed how well the makeshift hut keeps the rain out.

Wednesday 29 October

Breakfast: coffee, rice and sardines. On the move again. Three armed men in front, two with me and three behind.  The mountain is slippery. At a house on a plateau we hear that negotiations are underway. I am able to wash and shave in the river. Then a good meal of rice and chicken cooked in coconut milk. Some of the group watch lest the army would enter. My greatest apprehension is that the army and police may try to ‘rescue’ me without waiting for negotiations to finish. We are on the move again with just four armed men. The cornfields are high enough to conceal us. We came to a small hut where they intended to stay hut but a swarm of bees had already made their home there. One of the men was stung so we moved on. We met a number of people on the trail. They were warned that if they told anyone about our whereabouts they would have their brains blown out. At about 3 p.m. we came to a house and rested. The people received me kindly and serve us a nice meal. The man of the house prayed and I took the opportunity to say Evening prayer. We came back to the edge of the village and hid in the coconut trees. The mosquitoes are savage. At nightfall I was taken into the village. Many people came to have a look at me. On the move again. Eventually we came to a small hut in the forest.  I insisted that one of the group go back to the village to get a mosquito net.

They were reluctant to do this but I warned them that if I got malaria and died that they were for the firing squad of the other commanders. Eventually the net arrived. A tiring day. My captors have treated me as kindly as possible. The words from Morning Prayer, Romans 8: 35-37 give me some courage.

" I am coming to realize the importance of being positive,
being strengthened by God's love rather than feeding on the rising resentment
inside myself about being kept captive."

Thursday 30 October

From the early morning BBC I learn that Ireland dew the Belgium. As dawn broke one of my captors looked through my mosquito net and enquired id I had already contracted malaria. It is important to retain a sense of humor at times like this. My new home is a hut about 6 by 8 feet with galvanized roof and sides of leaves. Breakfast: dried fish and rice. We went to the river to wash. I have only a tiny piece of soap left so I cannot was my clothes. Shortly after noon the rain began and continued until nightfall. I spend the time trying to keep the water from seeping into my bed. My guards, except one boy of about 13, are men in their early twenties, mostly poor. Conversation is limited to their poverty of life in the mountains. Sex is also a major topic, particularly their fantasies of marrying beautiful white women. Religion is also a topic but none of this group actually prays in public. This evening news came that Aleem Elias Macarandas is in the nearby town of Tangkal, as a part of the negotiating team. I am happy to know that. I am coming to realize the importance of being positive, being strengthened by God’s love rather than feeding on the rising resentment inside myself about being kept captive.

“I am coming to realize the importance of being positive, being strengthened by God’s love rather than feeding on the rising resentment inside myself about being kept captive.”

Patrick is one of the great missionaries of all times; the church he founded in Ireland itself became missionary and eager to share its faith throughout the whole world. Patrick was one of the first people to take a public stand against slavery.

How did he bring the Gospel to Ireland without the back-up of money or soldiers or a great culture? He used his intimate knowledge of the language and the Irish culture and his personal love for Christ. He was one of the first in ancient times to speak against slavery; this might be because he himself had been a slave in Ireland. His faith has been spread by the Irish people throughout the world and his feast day is celebrated everywhere with great panache and humor and affection. We share with you a few lines from his famous autobiography known as the Confession of St. Patrick written way back in the 5th century.

May it inspire you to read all of that work when you get on opportunity because it contains the clues to true missionary endeavor.

St Patrick Writes...

In Ireland as a slave

When I had to come to Ireland I tended herds every day and I used to pray many times during the day. More and more my love of God and reverence for him began to increase. My faith grew stronger and my zeal so intense that in the course of a single say I would say as many as hundred prayers, and almost as many in the night. This I did even when I was in the woods and on the mountains. Even in times of snow or frost or rain I would rise before dawn to pray. I never felt the worse for it; nor was I in any way lazy because, as I realize, I was full of enthusiasm.

His Escape

In my sleep there one night I heard a voice saying to me: “it is well that you fast, soon you will go to your own country.” After a short while I again heard a voice saying: “Look, your ship is ready.” It was a quite a distance away, about two hundred miles; I never had been to the place, nor did I know anyone there. I ran away and left the man with whom I had spent six years. The power of God directed my way successfully and nothing daunted me until I reached that ship.

The day I arrived the ship was set afloat and I spoke to the boatmen in order that I might be allowed to sail with them. But the captain was annoyed and he retorted angrily: On no account are you to try to go with us.” When I heard this I left them to go back to the hut where I was lodging. On the way I began to pray. And before I had ended my prayer I heard one of them shouting after me: “Come quickly, those men at once and they began to say to me: “Come on, we will take you under our guarantee; make your bond of friendship with us in any way you wish.”

Prayer Answered

After three days we came to land and for twenty-eight days we made our way through deserted country. Supplies ran out and the party was the worse for hunger. The next day the captain said to me: Tell me this, Christian. You say your God is great and all-powerful; why then can you not pray for us? As you see we are suffering from hunger; it is unlikely indeed that we will ever see a human being again.” I said to them confidently: Turn sincerely with your whole heart to the Lord my God, because nothing is impossible for him, that this day He may send you food on your way until you are satisfied; for he has plenty everywhere.” And with the help of God so it happened. Suddenly a herd of pigs appeared on the road before our eyes; they killed many of them and stopped there for two nights. They were well-fed, as were their dogs, and had their bodies restored to vigor, for many of them had grown weak and had been left half-dead along the way. After this they gave profuse thanks to God and they held me in great esteem.

Pagan Sacrifice

From that day they had plenty of food. They even found wild honey and offered me some. One of them said: “This is offered sacrifice.” Thank God, from then on I tasted none of it. As well as food for the journey He also gave us fire and dry weather every day until we met people ten days later.

Strange Spiritual Experience

That same night when I was asleep Satan tempted me with a violence which I will remember as long as I am in this body. There feel on me as it were a great rock and I could not stir a limb. How did it occur to me in my ignorance to call on Elijah? Meanwhile I saw the sun rising in the sky, and while I was shouting “Elijah! Elijah!” at the top of my voice the brilliance of that sun fell suddenly on me and lifted my depression at once. I believe that I was sustained by Christ my Lord and that his Spirit was even then calling out on my behalf. I hope this is how it will be in my time of trouble, as he said in the Gospel. On that day, the Lord declares, it is not you who will be speaking; the Spirit of your Father will be speaking in you.

Call of the Irish

On another occasion, a few years later, I was in Britain with my relatives who has welcomed me as if I were their son and earnestly begged me that I should never leave them, especially in view of all the hardships I had endured. It was there one night I saw the vision of a man called Victor, who appeared to have come from Ireland with an unlimited number of letters. He gave me one of them and I read the opening words which were: the voice of the Irish’. As I read the beginning of the letter I seemed at the same moment to hear the voice of those who were by the wood of Voclut which is near the Western Sea. They shouted with one voice: “We asked you, boy. Come and walk once more amongst us.” I was cut to the very heart and could read no more, and so I woke up. Thank God, after many years the Lord answered their cry.