By Sr. Ana Maria, RA

First I’d like to bring you to Denmark, it is a small country, one of the smallest in the world but one of the loveliest. It only has a land area of 18,000 square miles and one can easily travel through it but it has 6 million inhabitants, 6,000 of whom are Filipinos!

A Dream

It is a very peaceful country peopled by gentle, kind people naturally welcoming. It has a social system that has reached an almost perfect level of human possibility, what we dream of in the Philippines, they have achieved here. Education is free; medical assistance is free; special care is given to the handicapped; a house is provided for everyone; every child receives a state stipend until the age of 18 and then this may apply to their own housing. Jobs are provided for the jobless although for the time being, Denmark shares unemployment problem with the rest of Europe. The transportation system runs to the second, the communication is perfect, electricity and water heating systems are of the highest degree – something vital in winter – and the roads all over the country are a pleasure.

What’s the hitch?

Am I speaking of Utopia ... of an unbelievably perfect society? Or am I trying to write a tourist brochure? What’s the hitch? Danes complain of the high taxes they have to pay ... but they do get their benefits in time and justify. I’d like to continue singing its praises for there is more. Denmark’s climate knows no extremes as in others countries. There is certainly a winter and summer, a spring and an autumn, but the winter is not too severe and the heat is pleasantly warm in summer. Some say one may even get the same temperature on the 23rd of December as one gets on the 23rd of June. Furthermore the land contours are modulated just stretches of undulating hills, no high points, no low points, no long rivers. This fact in itself lends to an understanding of Danish temperament ... gentle and good.

A Proof of their Goodness: Saving the Jews

They saved all the Jews living in Denmark from being sent off to Hitler’s concentration camps. As one nation they moved to help the Jews and saved all except those who refused to be brought to free Sweden, this is a known fact in the history of the Second World War.

High Suicide Rate

In the midst of this utopia, one reads in the papers, a high suicide rate including elderly people, and many problems coming from “narkomaend”. Denmark has the highest percentage in all of Europe of single parents with a child. Depression, loneliness are common causes of psychiatric illnesses and a good number do need psychiatric care. The homes for the elderly are filled with lonely people waiting for a family visit that never happens or happens very rarely.

Why?

What is missing? I dare not offer any answer. I simply offer a reflection. Our little convent lies at the shadow of a 12 century church. Roman Catholic in origin now belonging to the states Church which I Lutheran. Most of the churches have the same story. The church looks lonely to me who was used to bustling traffic bear all our churches at home and at the Philippines. The bells are rung regularly her with melodious tolling sound. But shat struck me was that nothing happens ...no people going to Church, nothing at all just the bells tolling. One day I went to church and the service was about to begin. There was exactly one person besides me a curios onlooker and the lady priest. Inwardly I wept and asked God to show Himself and yet I do not know if this is the correct prayer to make. I did no even know what to pray for. I just feel at times a sense of everything right and yet not right somewhere; I cannot put my finger on it. Perhaps this is the anguish of those who take their lives, of those who are lonely on their homes ... something is missing in this almost perfect system and we do not know what it is.

We Walk With Our People

And what am I doing here? I am living our religious life in an international community together with another Filipino sister, Sr. Pilar Wijangco. Who has been here almost 15 years. With us are two French sisters, an Austrian sister and recently we had a Belgian sister. We live our Assumption vocation ad contemplatives in mission working as parish assistant or as teachers. Sr. Pilar and I do ministry work among our Filipinos. She prepares the children for first communion while I work with the adults, in different prayer groups, Bible study, charismatic groups. In a word we walk with our people in a foreign land, living our faith that is so deeply entwined with our culture, passing in the faith to the next generation, helping ourselves to reflect on the influence of cross cultures we are living through. If you can call this missionary, then this is our mission work as we sing and pray with our people, laugh and cry ... yes cry especially at Christmas time when we sing our carols and miss home, we miss home, that imperfect society that is ours, yet a society where people can radiate JOY that can come only from faith. Our Filipino community is lucky to have a chaplain in the person of Fr. Patrick Shiels, CSSR who have been in the Philippines for 20 years and speaks Visayan perfectly. He is Irish but a Filipino heart.

Our prayer groups now number to 29 ... kind of basic ecclesial communities where numbers gather together to pray the rosary, to share the word of God and be encouraged in the faith. Now and the some Danes ask to enter the church because of a witness of faith. Our Sunday Mass is alive with a choir that takes time out after their busy schedule to come together and prepare the liturgy and sing appropriate songs. Our prayer groups have gone beyond Copenhagen to extend themselves to Sweden, Malmo and Helsingbord with other Filipino communities, it is the Filipino Catholic community here who have assumed their mission as missionaries through the living faith in JOY and in COURAGE amidst a society that is so different from what we know back home.

By Sr. Walfridis, SSpS

Sr. Walfridis, SSpS has been a missionary in Papua New Guinea for nearly half a century. She is now long past the retiring age but still serves joyfully in the vocation she choose so many years ago. It is very clear that Our Lord’s promise has been fulfilled in her. “Live on in my love... that my joy may be complete.”(John 9 - 11)

I am now a retiree here in our retiree here in our Retirement House. I am cooped up and no longer in circulation especially now that I am half blind due to glaucoma. Two years ago I used to drive to Kefamo every Saturday for my Legion of Mary meetings, but now I cannot drive anymore. I also used to have my little garden as my OT (Occupational Therapy) where I could putter around whenever I liked and plant whatever I liked, but now I have to let it go for I can no longer distinguish between plants and weeds. Since I can no longer read nor sing, the Lord has been good to give me another OT – playing the organ by ear for I cannot see the notes anymore and improvise the accompaniment, I play from 4-5 in the afternoon everyday and from 5-6 we retirees have adoration before the Blessed Sacrament.

Hopes Dashed

When I got posted here in PNG in 1952, I look forward to working or doing mission work in the bush. Unfortunately I landed again in school. This school is a catechist school in the main station of the SVD and SSpS Headquarters in Alexishafen. The parish priests from the different outstations used to send one or two of their best boys her to be trained as their future catechists.

The Long and The Short

We were three sisters teaching here (Sr. Casparia, Sr. Theonilde and myself). Every morning we used to come to school with our push bikes. When the boys would see a sister coming, they’d either say “Longpelasista I kam” that means Sr. Casparia Sr. , the tall one) or “Sotpela “Sista I kam” that means Sr. Theonilde, the short one) or “Sista I kam” (that means me). One day I happened that a strand of my hair was coming out of my cap, a boy poked his neighbor with his elbow and said “Gras belong emi olsem nil.” When I came home, I asked Sr. Regional what it meant. She laughed and said they said your hair is like nail very straight for they are very proud of their kinky hair where they can stick anything in then such as pencils or flowers.

A Museum Piece!

Since in those days many of the people in the outstations along the north coast have never seen any sisters. The late Fr. Saiko. The Mission Manager asked our regional superior if the sister could come once in a while with boats that were going to pick up copra from these outstations. One weekend two of us went with Fr. Saiko after supper, slept in the boat and reached Banara in the morning. First we had Holy Mass and then the people who were present came around us. Some where very timid and shy; a few bolder ones touches our habits and stared at us so that I felt like a museum piece. When Fr. Saiko told them who we are, they felt at home with us. They were very eager to shake hands and tell us about themselves and answer our questions.

Shipwreck

One little girl asked me why I wear ‘lapla’ (veil) around my head. I just said to keep the sun and wind from my head and they laughed. While the boat crew were loading the copra, we went to visit nearby villages. After supper we left and arrived at the main station in the morning. One time we went to Bogla in a boat called the Petrus and on the way home we dropped by at Ulingan. After supper we left and arrived home. However the captain overslept and missed the entrance to the harbor. We were awakened by the Captains voice “Sista kirap, wara I kamap” (Sisters wake up. Water is coming up.) we found ourselves all wet and all the copra bags were under water. Fr. Saiko radioed and soon the Arnold came to rescue us. The next morning I went to the drylock to see how much damaged the Petrus sustained. It found out that the keel was completely torn off. This unforgettable day ended our missionary journey with St. Paul, I can say... I was once shipwrecked too.

Braving the Sharks

The lord provided us another apostolate. Every Saturday Miss Coles, an Australian lay missionary, who was also teaching in this high school, and I went to a vocational school; about an hour drive from Alexishafen. At first we used to go there in a dilapidated green mini-bus where we loaded our push bikes at the back and drove as far as Rempi where we left the bus and continued our way by means of our push bikes. There was no bridge yet over a wide river for vehicles, but there was a small narrow bridge for pedestrians. We usually stayed for one hour for religious instructions after which we returned to Rempi to retrieve “Miss Peggy” our green bus. Later when the river was bridged for vehicles, we went by Fr. Saiko’s jeep. When his jeep was unavailable we took the small motor boat. I happened that the sea was rough and so we could not land. What would we do? Miss Coles undaunted by sharks and crocodiles jumped and swam to school and taught for one hour wet to the skin. I had no choice but to stay put in the boat for one hour. Had it not been fort old habit I would have gone with Miss Coles. Our present habit would have been more convenient. Perhaps had I dared jump I would have gone down like lead into the sea. (Miss Coles became Sr. Dominique and is now one of our sisters here)

By Horse

When I was transferred to the highlands, I had to look for another way to visit the schools. In those days there were no roads for vehicles so I had to go on horse. On one occasion a sister and I went with Fr. Kolnik to Utu. We used to go by jeep just as far as the road could take us to a certain village where we left the jeep and where two horses were waiting for us. We were three horses with two horses. What are we going to do? Fr. Kolnik gallantly offered us the horses while he walked. The road was actually no roads at all but merely foot paths and I was rather scared, but the horses was not and I trusted him. When we arrived the people were already lined up on both sides of the road leading to the Church and Father’s house. We felt like V.I.P.’s shaking hands with everybody left and right from grandfathers to babies.

Then the catechist invited us to come to school to listen to his pupils’ song. He also made them do some numbers in the little blackboard. He was very pleased when they could answer some question we asked then from their little catechism.

Like Wet Chickens

The next morning after the Mass we prepared for going home. Again all the parishioners were lined up on both sides for a repeat performance of shaking hands and goodbyes. as before Fr. Kolnik refused to ride but gave is the horses. As we were nearing the village where we left the jeep, a heavy downpour overtook us. I tried to make the hors run a bit faster; instead he galloped and I was lifted up from the saddle when he jumped over a deep ditch. I thought I would land in the ditch, but fortunately I landed back on the saddle. When we were reached the village the people were, of course, very sorry for us and offered us some ‘kulau’ (young coconuts). When we arrived home, Sr. Regional was at the entrance to meet us. She was laughing for she said we were like wet chickens.

By Janice McLaughlin, MM

Three Maryknoll Sisters arrived in Albania to begin the congregation’s first mission outreach to Eastern Europe. Sisters Winifred O’Donnell, Vivian Vortuba and Lourdes Fernandez are following the footsteps of St. Paul, the first apostle to Illyricum, as Albania was known in early days of the Church.
(Romans 15:19).

The poorest country in Europe, Albania, suffered immense deprivation under one of the world’s harshest communist regimes. All religions were banned under President Enver Hoxha, who declared Albania the world’s first officially atheist state. All but 29 of the country’s 195 Catholics priests were executed or died in prison; church buildings were turned into theaters and sports places; clergy and religious could not be trained or function in any public way.

Turks and Italians

Ruled by the Turks since the 15th century, Albania did not gain its independence until 1912. But its liberty was short lived, it became an Italian protectorate in 1927 and was annexed by Mussolini’s forces in 1939. After World War II, Hoxha seized power and ruled the country with an iron fist until his death in 1985. Since then, Albania has switched from communism to democracy, opening the doors to religious freedom in 1990.

50 Years Experience

The three Maryknoll Pioneers are well equipped for the challenges that lie ahead. O’Donnell, from Sedalia, Mo., brings with her nearly 50 years of experience in teaching and school administration in Hawaii, Japan and most recently in mainland China.

Comparing china and Albania, she says, “Both peoples have endured 40 or more years under communism where ‘the Party’ is all important but the individual is nothing.” She hopes to heal the scars left by Albania’s system.

Vortuba, a native of Duluth, Minn., views her new assignment as a return to her roots since one of her grandfathers came from Central Europe’s Czech Republic. “He brought the faith to us,” she said. “Let me go back and share it.”

First Maryknoll Doctor

Vortuba was the first Maryknoll Sister to be trained as a doctor. She used her healing skills for almost 40 years among both urban and rural poor Bolivia, Peru and Nigeria. Later she worked in a hospital on a Navajo reservation in New Mexico and in a pastoral program for poor sharecroppers in Rosedale, Missippi.

Age No Problem

Both O’Donnell and Vortuba are in their 70’s but see age as no deterrent in their ministry. “As long as you can keep learning you’re OK,” says Vortuba, Maybe I’ll celebrate my 80th birthday in Albania,” she announces with a twinkle in her eye.

The Filipina

The third and youngest member of the team, Sister Lourdes Fernandez, 52 from Ramon Isabela in the Philippines, also radiates energy and enthusiasm for this new venture. “The more I learn about Albania – its history and its people – the more do I relish serving there,” she says.

The oldest of the seven children, Fernandez was educated in the Philippines and taught elementary school her before joining Maryknoll in 1967. She served first in Hawaii and then in Hong Kong, where she co-founded the International Worker’s Formation Program at Kwun Tong Pastoral Center. For the past three years, Fernandez served in the Maryknoll Sisters Communications Office in Ossining. “The Good News within me moves me to nourish Albania’s newly found freedom,” the Maryknoll missioner says.

By Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

Proud Pajamas

At Kwabea Village, we were just starting the Mass when the Church president came in looking proud in his new stripped pajamas. For him, there is no difference between pajamas and ordinary pants. And, why should there be? Afterall, pajamas have always been daytime wear to both women and men in the Middle East. It was the westerners who adapted it for night wear. Maybe they smile when we go to bed in daytime clothes.

Christian – Muslim Dialogue

At the Prayer of the Faithful, I opened one of the Mass intentions. I discovered that a local Muslim, known as Yaglah, was requesting a special prayer which read “I am earnestly requesting a Catholic prayer for my intention.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if mosques and churches interchanged prayers requests frequently?

Cosmos

From the Diocesan Sister I took variety of flowers which they told me are all called Marigold. When they blossomed, the flowers were indeed of different types. On the same day I was tattering them, an Indian Missionary Sister working at a nearby parish begged for some. Worse, she wanted to know the name of each flower. So determined to name each flower according to its color and petals, I started, “Sister this is Yellow gold, and these are Yellow Yellow Non –Winged Marigold but this Half Golden Hollowed Marigold is nothing compare dot this one whom the Botanist Scientist called –Sputnik (because the petals look like a cosmonaut capsule). She stood there aghast regretting, I think she had asked me.

What’s His name?

Candy is a teacher from Northern Ghana. She is now a postulant of the RVM Sister (Religious of the Blessed Virgin Mary). Dropping in for a visit, she asked, “How do you really pronounce your name? I pronounce it “BANANA” she said [instead of Panabang]. She laughed when she heard how far out she was. But then, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. [Our drawing shows Candy when she was a child! Sorry Candy.]

From the mouths of the unlearned

We had a problem between some members of the Charismatic group and some elders of the Church. When the Parish Priest left, some people begun throwing stones at the roof of the old church where the Charismatics were praying. During heated confrontation a few days later, the Charismatics vehemently accused elders of throwing those stones but one of the old women stood up and said, “Those who throw the stones were not people. They were angels sent by God because of your attitudes.” She was still speaking when laughter’s engulfed the whole room and eased the tension which had been mounting.

God help’s those who help themselves

While watering our backyard garden, one of my catechists to my annoyance kept pestering me with his problem expecting me to solve it for him; to do everything for him without him moving a finger. As I drew close to one plot, I saw a sprouting seedling pushing up a rather heavy pebble almost half an inch from the ground. Fascinated, I called the catechist, “Come quick! Do you see that seedling? How it is trying to lift that pebble? Now, I see it really is doing something to solve its own problem. I will help it.” Immediately I lifted the pebble to the relief of the plant. Turning back to my catechists, I said, “Go and do the same; the remaining half of your problem, I will lift up but never expect me or someone to lift the stone before you come out." He fell silent and thoughtful.

By Bo Sanchez

Let me tell you a crazy story I heard recently. There’s this husband who out of sheer love for his wife decided to prove it to her. So he swam the widest oceans, crossed the deepest rivers and climbed the highest mountains to show his deep devotion to her. But, in the end, she divorced him. Why? Because he was never home. (Get it?)

Let me tell you an experience I had as a kid.

One day I asked Mom “Why do shoes keep eating up my socks?” As a young boy that was always a mystery to me. All my classmates never had that problem. Their socks remained tight and high up their legs the entire day.

Mom didn’t answer my question, but simply gave me two rubber bands which I dutifully placed around to top of my socks. To this day, fifteen years later, I still have permanent circle marks around my legs. But aside, from this slight defect, the band works like magic.

It never did occur to me that Dad and Mom didn’t have the money to buy a new pair of socks for me. So I wore five-year-old socks, all soggy, grayish and garter-less.

And yet amazingly, I never complained. I believe it was because Dad was always home when I needed him. Every night, after coming from work, we’d jog together, sit around and talk about Tarzan, Farrah Fawcett Majors, God, and what I wanted to be when I grew up (a stockholders). On Saturday, we’d walk to Cubao, eat hotdog-on-a-stick, and buy new rubber bands before going home.

I’ve learned that in truth, we don’t want our loved ones to show their love for us in big ways. Swimming the widest oceans, crossing the deepest rivers and climbing the highest mountains seem heroic and spectacular – but that’s not what we really want. Deep in our hearts, we just want then home. With us.

Sometimes, God will operate that way. Suddenly, He decides not to answer our prayers or fill our needs or heal our sickness or give us the miracle we’re asking for. (He got reasons why He won’t and believe me - they’re pretty good ones.)

So He’ll just be there beside you, holding you in a hug. Sharing your pain. Weeping as you weep.

Oh, He might give you some rubber bonds. And that small comfort from Him will be more than enough to sustain you. Because the most essential truth you already know. Daddy is home.

By Sr. M. Speranza Alejandro, PDDM

The extraordinary apostolate of the Pious Disciples dramatizes the call of the Eucharist: to give our bodies for the life of the world. Sr. Speranza shares her vision with us.

Two years ago I started my mission in the Vatican City, the heart of Rome. As a member of the Pious Disciples of the Divine Master involved in the Eucharistic Priestly-Liturgical apostolate, I join my sisters in taking turns of prayer before our Eucharistic Lord in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, inside the Basilica of St. Peter. Every morning after the first mass celebrated in this chapel, there is a solemn exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. We are eighteen international sisters and we go in pairs (like the disciples sent by the Lord for the mission) every one and a half hour presenting humanity before the Blessed Sacrament. As we pray we present all the needs of humankind to the Lord and the needs for justice of all categories of people.

Averting a Tragedy

It would be a tragedy if we missed the central point of the Eucharist: that as Christ gives His flesh, we too must give our flesh. As Christ allows us to consume Him, so we – the Church – must allow the poor to consume us. As we go to Christ feed us, do also feed the poor of the world with self – giving. If the Church is not the Church for the poor, then that degree it is not the Church of Christ.

Self-Reliance

Aside from the ministry of prayer, we also run two souvenir shops entrusted to us by the Vatican. One shop is at the base of Basilica commonly called Grotte and one at the Dome commonly called Cupola di San Pietro. I am stationed in the Cupola. Here the whole year round, hundreds of thousands of people flock to see the Holy Father and to admire the marvels of the Eternal City. Here I meet my fellow Filipinos – students, tourist, migrant workers – and here I enjoy serving them, talking with them and imparting to them lessons about the faith whenever I can.

By Sr. Amelia Torres, DC

In 1965 I wrote a letter to our Superior General in France offering for the missions. I was only 6 months old in the Seminary of the Daughters of Charity. Time did fly fast, years came and went and I was assigned to different apostolates: schools, hospitals, parishes and development centers. Nobody took notice of my ardent desire. Superiors ignored my letters. They told me I was not physically strong to survive the rigors of mission life; that I was much more needed in my own country ... and so obediently I went on with the tasks assigned to me. Nevertheless, from time to time,  I expressed my desire.

Death of Sr. Aurora

During an annual retreat in 1983, it was announced that Sr. Aurora, one of my companions in U.S.T. Hospital, who had offered herself for Iran, had died in an accident. Her death shocked me for we had been such good friends. Right there and then I heard an inner voice “You are just the fit person to replace me here in Iran.” I did not mind nor put much importance to that ‘voice’. Meantime I had become very happy in my apostolate. I was enjoying my mission as educator to future nurses. I was peak of my nursing practice. I had finished my Master’s Degree. I was Directress on Nursing Service in different hospitals. and I was Dean of Nursing in Sacred Heart College. Professionally what more could I ask, Lord?

In another annual retreat in 1987, I was in the chapel when suddenly I felt a light tap on my shoulders. It was our Visitatrix. In short, I was invited to a dialogue about Iran. As a result eventually I was indeed sent to replace Sr. Aurora but at that very time my aging mother was not well so my heart was divided. I left her in God’s hand and said, “Yes, Lord”.

Off to Iran

On June 14, 1987, I departed for France to our Mother House in Rue du Bac, Paris. I knew nothing of the language. For three months I took the Intensive Debutant course in French.

In September I arrived in Beirut for a stop over of 4 -5 days. I stayed in the Provincial House. Meanwhile they were hurrying up my papers for Iran. In a week’s time everything would be ready. Of course, I knew it was difficult but nevertheless possible. So I waited and waited and waited. But Iran did not accept me. So I opted to stay in Beirut, the war-torn capital of Lebanon.

New Destination

I was assigned to the Military Hospital; in Beirut. Everything went fine and gradually I got accustomed to the military environment. Then October came where bombings were strongest in Beirut and its suburbs. The war situation became so politically complicated that poor Lebanon did not know anymore where to turn to. Bigger and powerful nations around it aimed at dividing the country among themselves.

Mass Graves

In 1992 there was a temporary ceasefire to give PEACE a chance. All the while we at the Military Hospital received and took care of all the wounded soldiers, the poor civilian victims regardless of religion regardless of race and color. I saw human lives end brutally and mercilessly because of greed and egoism. For me it was a horrible experience seeing the dead victims, young soldiers at that, piled up by the hundreds and buried altogether in common graves at night.

War Ends

Today 1996 has ended and the county is in full physical reconstruction. But the people, after 18 years of war, are very tired, so emotionally and psychologically shattered, so physically and materially empty. But St. St Paul gives us HOPE: We are often troubled but not crushed. Sometimes in doubt but not despair. There are many enemies but we are never destroyed. At all times we carry in our mortal bodies the death of Jesus so that his life also may be seen in our bodies.