A Catholic In The World

By Peggy Noonan

This article first appeared in The Magnificat Pilgrim’s Guide for the Great Jubilee, Diocesan Supplement for the New York Archdiocese, 2000. The website of Magnificat, a monthly Catholic worship booklet, iswww.magnificat.com

Recently I popped into St Patrick’s Cathedral after a morning business meeting in midtown Manhattan and realized as I walked in that it must already be noon, for Mass had begun. So I walked down the center aisle and joined a hundred or so people scattered throughout the pews. I don’t go to Mass at St Patrick’s very often and was struck that the worshipers there were ‘there’ – they were listening, responding, and didn’t seem distracted by the milling tourists just beyond, who were chatting, walking about, and looking at statues. So I tried to be there too, and found it surprisingly easy. But now and then I’d look up and see tourists, small groups of whom were standing and watching us. I think they may have been thinking what I used to think when I’d wander into a church and accidentally came upon a Mass. ‘Boy, there are people worshiping God here in the middle of the day. How interesting. This is like going to a museum where you see what people used to do.’ In those days I saw the people in the pews as Representatives of Modern Christianity. So now I improved my posture and tried to look absorbed for them.

Faith in the modern world

Later I thought that little moment in the Cathedral might serve as a metaphor for the position of those who try to live their faith in the modern world. They do the small and unexceptional things they do, and the world now and then strolls by and notices and thinks, ‘How interesting.’

I do not find the little piece of the world in which I live to be hostile to Catholicism, or rather hostile to Catholics trying to lead Catholic lives. I find people in general to be wondering, and interested. My closest friends are largely non-Catholic and mostly agnostic, and they are both curious about my belief and respectful of it. Many of them ask questions, very specific ones about prayer, about what happens in the Mass and what it means. Sometimes I don’t know the answer and call around to get it and report back. You can learn a lot this way. Sometimes I improvise. Once a friend needled me mildly about the Virgin Mary and how some question the high place we give her. My friend was politically of the left, so I sighed and said, ‘Yes, sexism is a force in the world and we have to help people appreciate Mary’s power and not fear and resent it.’ There was silence for a moment, and then she started to laugh. ‘That was good,’ she said.

I feel free to tell them of my struggles. I tell them I adore Jesus and know that he is real, which is a real gift, and that the bumper sticker speaks for me: ‘My boss is a Jewish carpenter.’ And yet I find it hard to love him. I ask to love him because I know it’s important; I should and want to and feel I must. This, the difficulty of love, makes them think of parallel struggles in their own lives, with people they know and are related to. I tell them what I want is to be a Filipino woman, for all of them I know who are practicing Catholics seem lifted by their faith; it infuses them. I see them at Mass or doing the Stations, and they are of Jesus, in Jesus, with Jesus; they’re lit with him. They are what the Irish used to be. I want to be like that again.

Hard truth and comfort

Sometimes when I speak of my faith, I perceive on the part of my friends a wistful, ‘It must be nice to think like that.’ Now and then I think I perceive the kind of approval that makes me think of grand old New York dowagers, Edith Wharton ladies, talking about the help: ‘Bridget’s a fervent Catholic, Mass every morning at 6’ meaning she’ll never steal; she’s disciplined; and you never know, these peasant-ish religions can affect a house in positive ways! Now and then, not often, I feel a little patronized. ‘Your faith must be a great comfort to you,’ an agnostic lady of great brilliance said to me a few years ago. Without thinking about it I said, ‘Yes, it is.’ Then I caught something in her tone, and realized she meant, ‘Life is a challenge, and we all need our consolations, and if that works for you, then go for it.’ So I said that actually what I need is truth; if I wanted comfort there are other ways to go; but yes, the Christian paradox is that if you go for hard truth you get real comfort. Unlike the other forms it isn’t transient and passing; it stays.

The better way

I love my friends and pray for them and ask them to pray for me. I think I am for them like one of the people in the pews in St Patrick’s, and they are watching – interested for a moment, maybe a little bemused, a little yearning. I try to remember to stand up straight for them, I try to remember to be unselfconscious, to be absorbed, to be true. I often fail. But I know I am trying to be for them what the Filipino women are for me: a reminder, an inspiration, a hint that there’s another way and that it’s better.

Peggy Noonan is the best selling author of seven books on American politics, history and culture. She is a contributing editor of The Wall Street Journal and a weekly columnist for the Journal’s editorial page website. Her articles and essays have appeared in Forbes, Time, Newsweek, the Washington Post, the New York Times and other publications. Her most recent book, John Paul the Great: Remembering a Spiritual Father, was published by Viking in November, 2005. When Character Was King: A Story of Ronald Reagan, published by Viking in November, 2001, was a New York Times bestseller.

Author:

Peggy Noonan

A Stranger Befriending Strangers

By Gracia Kibad

Gracia Kibad, a Columban lay missionary from Bauko, Mountain Province, is now in her third term in Ireland.

In my second term in Ireland I was assigned to Ashbourne (www.ashbournedonaghmore.com), Meath. The recent waves of migration have brought people from many countries to its doors, making Ireland at this time particularly interesting.

Gracia with the Batorov family

Being a foreigner, I was faced with my own uniqueness whenever I encountered those different from me in color, language and culture. Living in a multicultural community called for a deeper affirmation of my identity as a Filipina.

My initial involvement with the residents was accidental. Parish priest Fr Jim Lynch, who worked in Zambia for a while, chats with newcomers he meets on the street and used to tell me who he’d met. As a stranger in a different culture, I felt a certain concern for these. Soon I found myself keeping in touch with them. When I’d see someone who looked like a migrant I’d just go and talk to them. This wasn’t easy for me as I didn’t want to be mistaken as ‘nosey.’ But I learned on mission to do the unusual. It’s great to be a ‘foreigner’– there’s always room for some ‘oddities.’

Spirit of Welcome

I came to know and befriend people, some Muslim, some Christian, from places such as Kosovo, Latvia, Lithuania, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Ukraine, Moldova – and the Irish themselves. Around this time, the parish set up a team to welcome new people in the community. At first we linked up with the national ‘KNOW RACISM’ program but later called ourselves the ‘Ashbourne Welcoming Group.’

We organized Masses to welcome migrants, and also held coffee-mornings and similar get-togethers, to which locals came. Parishioners appreciated these initiatives that allowed for a more open encounter between people who didn’t know much about each other but who wanted to. I also welcomed people to my own place. Hospitality was one thing I was able to offer and I saw it as one aspect of being on mission.

I also visited people in their homes and always got a warm welcome. Our difficulty in speaking English was something that made these encounters more interesting and challenging.

Slices of life

I remember visiting the Batorov family from Ukraine. The husband worked in a local factory. Since their arrival in Ireland, they’d had a baby who was baptized in the parish church. Mrs Batorov knew very little English. We were trying to communicate through ‘sign language’ when their 8-year-old son arrived from school. Thanks be to God for an efficient Irish school system. After less than a year in school his English was perfect. Immediately he ‘got a job’ as our interpreter. On top of that, this huge, gentle Ukrainian woman persuaded me to have dinner with the family. As with Filipino hospitality, no matter how little people have, there’s always something to eat for whoever comes to the door unexpectedly. And so it is with the ‘cuppa,’ as the Irish call a snack over a cup of tea. When I was leaving Ashbourne, the whole Batorov family came to my despedida. To my delight and surprise, they handed me a framed painting.

I got to know a Kosovar, a friend of Save, a Fijian Columban lay missionary in Ashbourne before. Every time we chatted, he’d tell me something about his dear homeland, Kosovo, and his family and friends, alive and dead. Being away from home myself I could imagine the pangs of loneliness and homesickness he felt, how much more for this man who had to flee home for his life. For him Kosovo would always be the longed-for place, yet not knowing when it would be safe to go home to.

One evening, I decided to drop by the apartment where he lived with his wife. When he opened the door he looked so upset and tears began to roll down his cheeks. I tried to calm him. He had been watching TV that evening and recognized a friend of his being captured. I couldn’t fully understand what he was saying because of his difficulty in speaking English, but I gathered that his friend had been betrayed. He was distraught at his helplessness in the situation. I stayed for a while till he was calm. Stories such as these make me wonder what we as a human race are doing to our own. And we don’t really know how people are till we listen to their stories and try to understand them.

Lessons in cultural diversity

Sylvia and baby Angelica with two Filipino migrant workers, Maria Isabel and Maria Agnes

Before I left Ashbourne, my Kosovar friend and his wife came to say goodbye. With sadness in his eyes he said, ‘At least you can go home.’ I now understood those words, having learned a part of his story. As I reflected on them, I could say that indeed I was blessed, as home is always there for me, a home that is safe, where I’m assured of a warm welcome and open arms from my family, friends, relatives and community.

Another friend was Sylvia, from Nigeria, with a baby girl named Angelica. She often came to my house and sometimes I’d cook us a meal. One afternoon when Sylvia was at my place the children from the neighbourhood, regular visitors whom I called my ‘little friends,’ dropped by. I introduced them to her. Baby Angelica was in my arms and when they saw her they wanted to give her a cuddle. How spontaneous children can be, the color of one’s skin meaning nothing to them!

The experience of living in a multicultural setting certainly opened my eyes. It was an opportunity to interact with peoples of other cultures. It brought home to me the richness of the diversity of cultures. I certainly have learned so much about people and their aspirations, their cultures and countries. I learned something about life.

You may email Gracia Kibad at gayak911@yahoo.ie or write her at
St Columban’s, Dalgan Park, NAVAN, Co Meath, IRELAND.

Author:

Gracia Kibad

A Taste Of The Desert

By Little Sister Cecilia-Grace Eco

Little Sister Cecilia-Grace LSJ is on a time of renewal, part of which she spent in the Sahara Desert in Béni Abbès, Algeria, where Blessed Charles de Foucauld lived from 1901 until 1905. Little Sister Magdeleine of Jesus, a French woman who had read the life and writings of Brother Charles, founded the Little Sisters in 1939. You may learn more about them at (Click here)

LSr Cecilia (standing) helps prepare Algerian tea

It was last Holy Week when LSr Askale from Ethiopia and I arrived in Béni Abbès, which has a population of 11,000 Muslims. We were only 20 Christians – six Little Sisters, three Little Brothers, seven other religious women from four different congregations, one worker-priest and three laypeople. The differences between us didn’t matter; we were simply Christians, brothers and sisters coming together to recall the passion, death and resurrection of the One who had called us and brought us together, whose gift of Love had led us to this place to give witness to that Love.

Br Charle's Chapel

How strange it felt for me, coming from a country where millions of Catholics were at the same time celebrating the same event with great pomp and devotion. Yet I loved the simplicity and bareness of the liturgy, the longer moments of recollection and silence, the spirit of unity and fraternity among us. I thought of the first Christians when they came together after the death of Jesus to remember and celebrate His gift of Love.

Just before Holy Week, the Muslims were having their big celebration of Mohammad’s birthday which is uniquely celebrated in Béni Abbès. People from other parts of Algeria came for the festivity whose main attraction is the war dance between two groups of men dressed in long white gowns and turbans and carrying rifles. They fired into the ground in between the chants that glorified Allah and honored Mohammad while the women and children watched and cheered. In the middle of the big crowd, all trying to get a glimpse of the dance, we decided to sit and simply feel the atmosphere. It felt like a fiesta. Part of me rejoiced with them and felt grateful that throughout their history of colonization, terrorism and war, they had kept this tradition that was part of their identity.

Before leaving for Béni Abbès, I prayed for an open heart to allow myself to be taught by the desert. I imagined long solitary walks there, only to be told that it was risky for a woman to go out alone. So one of the first things I learned was to be dependent on others, especially on the Little Sisters, and to trust in their experience. In the desert, one has to learn dependence and trust. I understood then that I had to keep my adventurous and independent tendency under control if I wanted to survive. The Sisters told us stories of people who got lost and died in the desert. Afraid of this, when each would look for her own quiet spot amidst the dunes we always kept the village as our reference point and stayed within sight of one another. A lesson on community life?

I learned another lesson one morning during our first trek to the dunes. Each of us tended to make our own path while struggling to climb the dunes, falling often deeply into the sand, finding it hard to catch our breath.

Little Brother Xavier, our guide, came back for us and told us: ‘Better remain in the path I’ve marked out; that way you won’t fall.’ That hit me. Weren’t the Israelites tempted many times not to follow the path marked out by God for them and how many times they fell! Isn’t it also true in our own lives?

Several times, a Little Sister accompanied us to dunes reached after an hour’s walk through a rocky wilderness. These occasional walks were too few but the desert never failed to work its magic – my heart was won over. Back home, gazing at nature from the mountains, teeming with greenery and life, always lifts my spirits. How then could a desert have a similar effect on me when it seemed barren and lifeless? The bareness, the great silence, the nothingness, the marvelous beauty of the dunes, the aloneness, the vastness, how could one not think of the Creator and one’s own nothingness? What a mystery – no wonder many saints were drawn to it.

I had a pivotal moment when we went out for a whole day. Besides water and bread, I brought with me the Bible and other books. In between readings, I climbed the highest dune near me and stayed there for as long as I could endure the blazing sun. I tried to be like the dunes – still, silent, naked, empty, open, doing nothing, simply waiting. Part of me expected God to speak to me in an earthquake or a strong heavy wind or thunder. Nothing – just total stillness.

And just when I stopped expecting anything, the Spirit touched me and tears just flowed like a spring for some time, watering my dry, weary self, inviting me to put my trust once again in the Hand of God leading me through my own desert. Somehow I was led to understand why this desire for the desert had grown in me these last few years.

After ten intense days of prayer, I joined the community’s ordinary life. I worked in Brother Charles’ garden the whole morning. In the afternoon, after adoration, the Little Sisters brought me along to visit their neighbors. They never ran out of reasons to visit or to be invited for a meal or tea – birth, circumcision, betrothal, marriage, sickness, death. A few times we were invited for a meal for no other reason than the simple, appreciative friendship between the Little Sisters and their neighbors, which touched me.

The witness of goodness that Brother Charles insisted on so much is the only thing possible between people so different from one another. And the Little Sisters don’t have a monopoly on this goodness. I was touched by the simple goodness of the people that doesn’t need an explanation but simply radiates itself. How much the goodness of one draws out goodness from the other . . . Perhaps it is this goodness that saved them during the years of terrorism.

LSr Josee brought me to the old village destroyed by the French to suppress the revolution in the 1950s. Despite that terrible experience in their struggle for independence from France when many of their people were killed, they have been so kind in welcoming the Little Sisters, most of whom are French, and even protected them during the period of terrorism. When everything else is destroyed, goodness remains.

Though we could not go out to spend a night in the desert, simply staring at the star-studded sky brought to life what Brother Charles himself wrote from Béni Abbès: The evenings are so calm, the nights so serene, this immense sky and these vast horizons dimly lit by heavenly bodies, are so peaceful as they silently sing the eternal, the infinite and the beyond; one could pass whole nights outdoors in contemplation . . .

There was a stream of visitors every day knocking at the house of the Little Sisters and that of the Little Brothers. I could imagine Brother Charles when he wrote: People knock at my door at least ten times a day . . . I have between 60 to 100 visits a day . . . I share down to my last bite of bread with any pauper, any stranger . . . receiving every human being as if he were a beloved brother . . .

The times of adoration and Eucharistic celebration in Br Charles’ chapel, the witness of the Little Sisters and the Little Brothers sharing their lives with their Muslim friends, the ‘dialogue’ of goodness, the days in the desert, the nights under the desert sky . . . I felt something like the disciples’ Emmaus experience when they said, ‘Weren’t our hearts burning within us?’Wasn’t my heart also burning when God spoke to me through all these in the silence of my heart, rekindling the fire of my ‘first love’?

I will allure her and lead her to the desert, and there I will speak to her heart. Then she will respond to me like in her youth (Hosea 2:14).

I am edified and inspired by the witness of the Little Sisters and Little Brothers I met in Béni Abbès and in Algiers. What they are living there touches something very essential in Brother Charles’ charism, the naked reality of a life totally given to God without reserve, not expecting results, not needing to prove itself by doing great things but just freely given, in fidelity till the end, to a people so different in many ways, ‘out of love, out of pure love’ (Br Charles). Maybe the nakedness of the desert has fashioned their interior life, as it did that of Brother Charles. This is what I hope for myself, too.

One has to pass through the desert and stay there in order to receive God’s grace. It is there that we empty ourselves completely . . .where all that is not of God is driven away so as to leave the place to God alone . . .

(Br Charles)

You may email the author at lsrcecilia@yahoo.com or write her at:
21 Alchan Street, Barranka Itaas, 1554 MANDALUYONG CITY.

Author:

Little Sister Cecilia-Grace Eco

Bend In The Road

By Gil L. Casio SM

The author, a seminarian with the Society of Mary, is stationed in Thailand, having been in Myanmar for a while. He is from Surigao.

Last year, I had the privilege of joining the team of the Marist Mission Center – Australia (MMC) in visiting refugee camps in Maesot in northern Thailand. Thousands of the Karen tribe from Myanmar (formerly Burma) live there in the middle of the jungle. It was my first time to see people who were obviously suffering from injustice and oppression.

Young Karens

I stayed with young Karens in a hostel for a few weeks. They were very friendly and affectionate. They shared their experiences and how they came to the camp. Life isn’t easy for them. They are far from home and their loved ones.

Their hearts’ desire

I was moved by their words, ‘I want to change the world.’ In their hearts they are dreaming and hoping to change the world. Being with them was really an eye-opener, seeing the brokenness of the Myanmar people.

My brief experience with the young Karens was the first step, as I prepared myself to go to Myanmar, to answer the call to witness.

Mission Exposure

It is part of my formation as a Marist seminarian to have a two-year ‘Marist Mission Exposure’ overseas. I went and joined the small group of Marist missionaries – two priests and a Lay Marist – in the Kachin State in northern Myanmar, in the town of Bhamo, only a few kilometers from the border with China. Mission in this isolated place full of suspicion is difficult.

Gil with the Kachins-Burma

I started to learn Kachin, known as ‘Jinghpaw.’ It is easier to learn than Burmese, the national language. I felt so at-home with the very warm and hospitable Kachins as I began to adjust to their culture and language.

I said to myself, ‘I wish to make my home with them.’ I wanted to do something for them, especially the youth, to empower and encourage them, for they are the hope of the future for their country.

After two months, Bishop Francis Daw Tang came all the way from distant Myitkyina to inform us that our visas hadn’t been extended. We went to Yangon, the capital of Myanmar, for a few days to see if we could get an extension. Unfortunately, we were being ‘kicked-out’ due to a change in the government’s policy. Non-Government Organizations (NGOs) were also under pressure and some Protestant churches were closed down.

A boat ride to the neighboring camp during the Asia Pacific Development Program 2005 in Thailand

Failed mission?

The Kachin people, whom we loved, wanted us to stay. Their last sad and moving words were, ‘Bai wa rit yaw,’ ‘Please come back.’ I asked myself, ‘Was our mission to Burma a failure?’

We prayed and searched together as a community, asking the Holy Spirit where God wanted us to be. Our mission was really for the people of Myanmar. My community could speak Burmese quite well.

We flew back to Thailand, frustrated, hurt and with heavy hearts.

Possibilities

There are many people from Myanmar in Thailand, where we went from north to south searching for possibilities for mission to the Burmese. We saw that the border town of Ranong in southern Thailand had a great need. So, our two priests went to the Philippines for a meeting and a break, while our Lay Marist went back to Myanmar for the closure of our mission there.

Deeper Understanding

I stayed in Thailand and worked for a few weeks with a Maryknoll priest as a volunteer at an AIDS hospice in the Buddhist monastery in Lop Buri. My commitment to the mission deepened there.

The ‘Lahu’ Hill Tribe-Chiang Mai

Love 101

I served the people in the hospice, feeding them, washing them, cleaning them and changing their diapers, assisting them to stand and walk, listening to their stories that I couldn’t understand, accompanying them as they went to worship their Buddha, washing and dressing their dead bodies in preparation for cremation. I realized how challenging being on mission is. It really demands humility. It really demands true service. It really demands LOVE.

My superior emailed me from the Philippines asking me to look for a house to be our base in Ranong. Though I couldn’t speak Thai, I said ‘Yes!’ Ranong, only 20 to 30 minutes by boat from Myanmar, is home to a large Burmese migrant population, many of whom work in fishing and related industries.

As I walked around the town, I arrived at Saphan Pla, a ‘Little Burma.’ There were Burmese everywhere and Burmese culture was very evident in the noodle and tea shops and betel-nut stands. There was loud Burmese music in the ‘videoke’ bars, men and women everywhere wearing the longyi (sarong), women coloring their faces with thanaka, a mildly fragrant bark ground into a powder, mixed with water and applied to the face in various designs.

I was alone, unable to speak either Thai or Burmese. Very few could understand English. At times I felt rejected by some Thais, as I look Burmese. People from Myanmar are discriminated against in Thailand. Thank God, there were people who generously helped me find a house. When my community arrived in Ranong, it was a great relief for me!

The mission begins

The author with his students from Bangon school in Thailand

We decided to start our mission for the Burmese people in a quiet, simple and gentle way. We came to know them, their problems and needs. They escaped into Thailand but live as refugees and poor migrant workers. They have few options for rebuilding their lives. They are vulnerable to exploitation such as human trafficking and prostitution, hence prone to HIV-AIDS.

Our mission, my call

We, the Marists in Ranong, reflect on what the Gospel and Church response should be for the migrants from Myanmar.

We work in various ministries among them: the pastoral care, the social care, and the education of Burmese children. I focused on education and volunteered to help in some schools run by NGOs for Burmese children.

I teach English, which is demanding. I remember my first class in a school outside Ranong. Most of the children, even the older ones, couldn’t read or write. Yet, I could teach them, despite my broken Burmese, and play with them. I feel so at-home with these children whom I love. I’m not a licensed teacher but this is my contribution to the mission, to the Church.

We’ve found a greater need here. It is in witnessing that we come to know the violence and poverty experienced by the people of Myanmar. It is in witnessing that we come to know the division and prejudices among their tribes. It is in witnessing that we can offer hospitality, do something, serve them and bring hope and healing.

In the mission I experience struggles and pain. I need to be strong and courageous. Indeed, my experience in mission is an experience of God.

You may email him at
GodisLove@mail2Love.com
or gcasio@gmail.com

Author:

Gil L. Casio SM

Centennial Of Redemptorists In The Philippines (1906-2006)

By Father Bernard Casey CSsR

On the Feast of the Epiphany 2006, the Redemptorist Congregation launched the Centennial Celebration of their presence in the Philippines, an opportunity to thank God for all He has done through their presence and to thank the people who have cooperated with them in their mission to the poor for 100 years.

Redemptorist Church, Tacloban City

In 1991 the Second Plenary Council of the Philippines (PCP II) declared: ‘When at the turn of the century we rebelled against the sword, we did not throw off the cross.’ Ninety years or so before PCP II, Filipinos revolted against foreign domination, especially that of Spain.

Fr Rudy Romano CSsR
abducted 11 July, 1985
in Cebu City and never seen again.

The result of this revolution was a severe shortage of priests. There were more than 1,000 Spanish friars and 700 Filipino diocesan priests in 1898, who took care of 697 parishes in the country. By 1904 only 246 friars remained. The number of diocesan priests had also decreased. Many of them joined Fr Gregorio Aglipay who later set up his own Iglesia Filipina Independiente. The spread of Aglipayanism greatly confused the people because the Aglipayans maintained many of the religious practices of the Catholic Church.

The community of Opon, Mactan Island, Cebu, in 1907

The bishops appealed to Rome for help. A number of congregations responded, including the Redemptorists and the Mill Hill Missionaries. After a personal appeal from the Pope, the Redemptorist General Superior asked Ireland and Australia to send some missioners here. These came in 1906.

I am very happy that I’ve spent almost half of those 100 years in Panay and Negros. What keeps me here are some remarks made early in my missionary work. While on a mission in Janiuay in 1960, I returned from a four-hour house-to-house visitation and my elderly tagbalay (host) said, ‘Padre, imo obra pareho man sa obra ni Jesu-Cristo,’ ‘Your work is the same as that of Jesus Christ.’ I still find great consolation in that affirmation. Years later, the late Archbishop José Maria Cuenco of Jaro attended the closing of a Redemptorist mission and told the people: ‘The Redemptorist missionaries have revived and preserved the faith of our people in this diocese.’

That is why we are here in the Philippines – to revive and preserve the faith. Our main work according to our rule is: ‘We are Apostles of Conversion in so far as the chief object of our preaching is to lead people to a radical choice regarding their life – a decision for Christ and draw them firmly and gently to a continual and total conversion.’

We try to help people understand and accept the ‘Plentiful Redemption’ which Christ brought to the whole world by His birth, preaching, passion, death and resurrection. We will be judged on the last day on how we have done this.

There are many religious congregations in the Philippines. But as far as I know, there is none doing the work we are called to do – parish missions – going to the parishes and spending four or five days in the barangays, helping the people to understand their faith.

The Redemptorists brought the love and devotion to our Mother of Perpetual Help to this country. In 1866 Pope Pius IX entrusted this image of Our Lady to the Redemptorists with those words: ‘Make her known to the whole world!’ In 1946, an American GI from Boston visited St Clement’s, Iloilo. He was amazed that there was no Perpetual Novena to Our Mother of Perpetual Help as there was in Boston. He proposed to the Rector, Fr Patrick Nulty CSsR, that he start the novena. Now it is extraordinarily popular all over the country and in other countries where Filipinos live. Countless numbers of people have received favors from God through it.

During this Centennial Year, we thank God for all he has done and still does through the Redemptorists with the Perpetual Help of God’s Mother. We place our celebrations throughout this year in her care and pray that she will protect all who have supported us for the past 100 years of preaching ‘Plentiful Redemption in the Philippines’.

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Father Peter Mulrooney CSsR, 1912-2006

By Father Seán Coyle

Father Peter Mulrooney CSsR died in Cebu on 7 September, less than a month after his 94th birthday on 18 August, almost 72 years after his profession as a Redemptorist, and 67 years after his ordination. He volunteered to be a chaplain in the British Army during World War II and served in northern Burma in the area where the Columbans worked. His experience there caused him nightmares from time to time for the rest of his life and he was also troubled by a leg-wound received there.

Father Peter arrived in Cebu with eight other Irish Redemptorists in August 1946 to relieve those who had suffered during the Japanese occupation. The same year the Redemptorists introduced the Perpetual Novena to the Mother of Perpetual Help. He studied Cebuano in Balamban and spent the next forty years giving missions in almost every parish in Cebu as well as in Bohol, Leyte, Negros and in many parishes in Mindanao. He was much respected and loved by the people and by the priests.

He was rector in Cebu before serving as Vice-Provincial of the Cebu Vice-Province from 1956 till 1964, after which he served a term as rector in Dumaguete. The Vice-Province became a province independent of the Irish Province in 1996, 300 years after the birth of St Alphonsus Liguori, founder of the Redemptorists.

In his latter years, when he wasn’t able to celebrate public Masses, Father Peter still served as confessor to many priests and bishops who found in him a kind and compassionate brother-priest whose commitment as a Redemptorist was a given, a source of strength to many.

A few years ago, reflecting on his life in the Philippines. Father Peter said, ‘The happiest time in the Philippines for me was the professions and ordinations of the Filipinos.’ May this faithful priest, a big man with a big heart, rest in peace.

Author:

Father Bernard Casey CSsR

Eighth Day

By Katie Flaherty

For seven days
she is limp as rags
and sweat damp;
our firstborn child
the color of a frog’s throat.

My own Petit Piton is burning
with dengue fever
and it’s too late
to go home now.

The kindly doctor already drove
dirt up our winding banana road
to bring the last penicillin
that didn’t work.
‘No more that medicine can do,
sister . . .’

And sweet Ivy, eh eh
cross her arms over her wide lap
and shake her head
for our poor daughter –
She, we, us,
all setting our prayer vigil
and it is too late now to go home.

The fever never breaks
never breaks and ever me
thinking of other mothers,
sisters on their dirt floors,
who lost their babies having loved them
just as fierce . . . too late . . .

After this blur of close close heat
and worry
and cocks crowing through the night,
She is cool as a fish belly at Oisten’s
better now and we wake
to Hillary and Charlie
bringing us black bananas.

Author:

Katie Flaherty

Father Joeker

Gone Batty

That Sunday, the gospel reading was about the cure of the demoniac. During the homily, a fearful noise was created by a flock of small bats flying from the ceiling of the church as if the roof was falling down. Looking up I screamed, ‘Those are the evil spirits running away.’ The adults and children laughed as the catechist interpreted what I said.

Closed to the Public

Sister Julie Salinas RVM was on home leave in the Philippines. The novices wanted to see her right away when she arrived at the convent but her Superior blocked them at the door and said, ‘Later, na lang. She’s not yet fit for viewing. She’s still undergoing “rehabilitation.”’ The Superior thought they might be discouraged to go on mission.

Mistaken Identity

At our school, I loaded the back of the car with several big, ripe jackfruits. No one knew they were edible. The trees had been planted by the Filipino RVM Sisters. At the office of the District Education Supervisor, the teachers saw the fruits and asked, ‘Father, what kind of fruits do you have in your car? Octopus?’

Nosy Noses

As we were repairing our radiator that kept overheating, many curious villagers crowded around peering at it with grim intensity and remarking, ‘Ah-hah...all holes?’ ‘Where did they get the idea of making holes in the radiator?’ I asked, but no one answered. ‘Try closing your nostrils and don’t let air come in and see what happens,’ I continued with everyone shrieking and laughing. Then I concluded, ‘So, as nostrils are to the nose, holes are to the radiator.’

Author:

Fr Joseph Panabang SVD

How To Observe Lent With Your Family

By Fr Stephen Cuyos MSC

‘I consider blogs and podcasts as today’s most effective tools in sharing personal reflections and in proclaiming God’s liberating message of joy, peace and love online,’ says Father Stephen on his website, www.stephencuyos.com, where this article first appeared. From Tayud, Consolacion, Cebu, he was ordained in November 1998 as a member of the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (MSC), www.misacor.org, and has been Supervisor, Electronic Media Center, Communication Foundation for Asia (CFA-MA), since January 2006. He graduated Summa Cum Laude with a Master of Arts in Mass Communications (Major in Television) at Universitá Pontifica Salesiana in Rome in 2005.

The Lenten season is an ideal time to deepen the faith in your family. Deep, personal and mature faith is a necessity; that is why every family needs to work at it. It is not something that comes naturally, easily. It demands sincere commitment to make faith grow in the family and lots of hard work. The easy part of being parents is the physical creation of life. The hard part is the continuous creation of life in their children. This continuous re-creation of life includes the cultivation of a family spirituality that will help children grow up in an atmosphere of prayer and deep commitment to doing God’s will.

Allow me to offer a few suggestions on how to develop an atmosphere where faith and commitment can grow in your family this Lent. Let me also share a few points on how to make Lent a season to strengthen the closeness and intimacy in your home.

An ideal atmosphere for any family is one of togetherness and prayerfulness. One researcher asked 1500 children as to what they think makes a happy family. The results say it all. The children didn’t name money, cars, or mansions as necessary for family happiness. They all agreed that simply doing things together makes a happy family. My childhood experience confirms this – the happiest times of my life were the moments when we were all together as one happy family.

Pray together at home

As much as possible do things together with your whole family. Prepare food together, eat together, wash the dishes together, recreate together, clean the house together, study together. There is nothing more inspiring than parents and children having a good time together. By being with their children, parents can express their love without even saying it. The natural fruits of spending time together are closeness and intimacy. Not even the most expensive presents can take the place of your simple presence.

One very important thing that should be done together regularly by the whole family is PRAYER. Lent is a season of prayer and penance, thus it is an opportune time for you to gather again at your family altar and make prayer a part of your daily family life. Read the Bible and reflect on its message everyday as a family. Recite the rosary together. Say grace before and after meals together. Offer a prayer together to God before and after sleeping. Give thanks to God together before going to and after work. Lift your worries to God together. Whatever prayer you wish to offer God, just do it with the whole family. And it is the parents who should take the initiative for the whole family to spend lots of times together in prayer. For children who live their daily lives with parents who worship and adore God, will learn to worship and adore him also.

Go to Mass as a Family

The Lenten season of forty days is essentially a time to return to the Lord, to do penance for the wrongs we have committed and to undergo true conversion. Thus it presupposes a raging hunger for God and for new life in Christ. What else can satisfy our hunger for God’s intimacy and newness of life but the Holy Eucharist. For in the Eucharist we receive no less than Christ himself, who is the living bread of our spiritual life. The Catechism for Filipino Catholics states that ‘the Eucharist responds to the deepest human hungers, both personal and communal. Such are the basic human hungers for love and acceptance, understanding, purpose in life, and justice and peace’ (# 1708).

Power of the Eucharist

These basic human hungers can be easily felt in our families. Thus the Eucharist’s importance in our family life is crystal-clear. It is precisely in regularly going to Mass as a family that we can gradually find satisfaction for our need for love and acceptance, understanding, purpose in life, and justice and peace. In the Eucharist we hear Christ’s words, receive his Body (and Blood) and experience his love. What we have received from Christ in the Eucharist is something which we must also give. The challenge is to make Jesus’ words and actions our own. When his words become our own and our actions reflect a life of self-giving service, then the Eucharist becomes extremely meaningful because it has now become a bold proclamation of our commitment to Christ and of our concern for each other.

The challenge therefore for families this Lent is to live Eucharistic lives. To live Eucharistic lives is to make everything we do flow from our experience in the Eucharist. It is to transform our everyday activities and works into meaningful service of God and our neighbor. It is to constantly strive at deepening our knowledge of God and bettering our response to him. What this means is that all of the family’s undertakings, values, plans and decisions, successes and worries, joys and pains should find its source and summit in the Eucharist. In this way, all you do as family then becomes a means of expressing your total dependence on God and your gratitude for his ever-present love.

Do three loving acts each day

Do three loving acts each day this Lent – one for God, one for your family, and one for yourself. It might be as simple as massaging the head of your Papa when he has a headache or as commonplace as taking time to listen to your children or as modest as helping your manghod (younger sibling) bandage a cut or as sublime as planting a tree in your backyard. Whatever you do, make it an act of love. Love is what matters and makes all the difference. For each loving act you do you communicate loud and clear – I love you. God loves you. I care. God cares.

There are three traditional Lenten practices – almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. These could well serve as your three loving acts. Almsgiving means getting personally involved with the poor and compassionately helping them alleviate their plight. Prayer means reflecting on these questions – How’s my relationship with God? With others? How will I grow close to God during these forty days? Is there something I can’t give up which is hurting my relationship with God, with my family and friends? Are my values and priorities in proper order? Fasting is a symbolic expression of our self-offering to God and of our detachment from all the transitory material things in this world (like food) in order to become open for spiritual values and to see clearly what really counts in life. In a word, fasting means to thirst and hunger for God.

Family First

Do each loving act not for self-satisfaction but for the praise and glory of God. Imagine each of you doing at least three loving acts each day. What a happy, healthy, and holy family you’ll have. And you don’t have to do ‘great’ things in order to achieve this at home. You only have to do the ordinary ones – like encouraging your children often, praying with and for your family habitually, being honest with your children – but with extraordinary love. When Mother Teresa was awarded the Nobel Prize, she was asked, ‘What can we do to promote peace?’ She replied, ‘Go home and love your family.’

You may email Father Stephen at
stephencuyos@gmail.com
or write him at: CFA-MA,
4427 Old Sta Mesa,
PO Box SM 434 2806 MANILA

Author:

Fr Stephen Cuyos MSC

Letter From PNG

By Sister Irene C. Anapi FAS

Sister Irene is on her second term, 2006-2010, as Superior General of the Franciscan Apostolic Sisters (www.geocities.com/franapsisters). The Congregation, founded in 1953 in the then Diocese of Tuguegarao, currently has four Sisters in Papua New Guinea and members in seven communities in the USA.

Dear Father Seán,

Greetings of Peace and every blessing! Thank you very much for reaching out to us through your valuable, informative and inspiring magazine. I am an avid reader of the different articles published in Misyon, which unites me with the lights and shadows of missionaries overseas.

We, the Franciscan Apostolic Sisters (FAS), opened our first overseas mission in the USA in 1985. Ten years later we started in Papua New Guinea, in the Nunciature in Port Moresby, for two years. We then ventured into an active apostolic mission. We sent Sister Agnes Infante and Sister Ofelia Argonza to teach in St Fidelis College, the minor seminary in Madang run by the Franciscan Capuchins, under Archbishop William Kurtz SVD, who is Polish. They teach Science, English and Theology in Grades 11 and 12 and help as liturgist and librarian.

Likewise, Sister Visitacion Alejandrino and Sister Porfiria Cauilan are pastoral workers in Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Parish at Budoya, Alotau. The parish priest is Father James Moore MSC, with Bishop Francesco Panfilo SDB of Alotau-Sideia.

Getting to Budoya is quite difficult. Alotau is the capital of Milne Bay Province (milnebaytourism.gov.pg), which is comprised of 160 named islands, one of them Budoya, and 500 cays and atolls scattered over an area of 250,000 square kms. I went there on 8 April 2004, Wednesday of Holy Week, and stayed at St Fidelis seminary. I admired how the priests and seminarians integrated their culture with the Holy Week celebration from Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday and was deeply touched by their deep faith in God, expressed in various forms. For example, I had never seen a Paschal fire as beautiful and glowing as the one made by the seminarians for the Easter Vigil. They tied several tall green bamboos together to make it six meters high. They tied several layers of dried coconut leaves from top to bottom around the packed green standing bamboos. The seminarians lit it and as the dried leaves were burning they heated the green bamboos underneath. These exploded like a ton of firecrackers. The explosion caused the twigs of the burning coconut leaves to fly like fireworks which could be seen ten kilometers away. It lasted for thirty minutes and everybody just stood still to watch, pray and worship the God who is the Light of the world.

When I flew to Alotau I was unaware that the boat to Budoya sailed just once a week. So, it was already 21 April when I went there, the trip arranged by Bishop Panfilo. The ten-hour journey gave me a chance to interact with the crew and by day to watch the dolphins following the ship. At first I was scared thinking they were sharks. Nobody knew I was arriving. As soon as the boat docked the Christians living along the seashore spontaneously came out to meet whoever was arriving, the two Sisters were among them.

The Budoyans are simple people full of faith, very friendly and generous in their gesture of hospitality. They have no vehicles, no electricity and communicate with other places through letters. The priests, Missionaries of the Sacred Heart, had put up a school for basic education, a simple clinic and a small store for basic needs. Our Sisters help in the Catholic formation of the young and adults, organizing the basic ecclesial communities in the other islands. My faith and love for the mission have increased with my experiences in Madang and Budoya. We hope to send more Sisters to these mission places. As I left, I planned to visit again before long.

Respectfully yours in Christ,

Sister Irene Anapi, FAS

Superior General

Author:

Sister Irene C. Anapi FAS

Lives Of Counter-Culture

An Interview with Lay Spiritans John and Katie Flaherty

This article, reprinted with permission, first appeared in the May 2004 edition of Spiritan, the quarterly of the TransCanada Province of the Spiritans, the Congregation of the Holy Ghost, www.spiritans.com

Lay Spiritans John and Katie Flaherty were interviewed in their modest East End Toronto home. At one stage the proceedings were interrupted by a period of chaos as their children Annie, Gabriel and Locky came home from playing in the park.

Was it your common interest in Christian living, or Catholic Action as it is also called, which brought you together?

Katie: Yes, it certainly was a shared interest when we were both attending St Michael’s College in the University of Toronto. We had some classes in common as we both followed general courses, including English and Theology. We lived the typical life of undergraduates, meeting in groups in pubs and at dances and also being part of the very active Christian life which identifies St Mike’s to this day. In fact John served as Convener of Religious Affairs for a period.

John: In University each of us recognized that the other was a person of faith. Our preparations for our marriage were mainly spiritual ones. Thanks to the input and participation of our two families and our friends from University, the ceremony was faith filled. A joyful Eucharist ceremony encompassed our exchange of vows. We began our life together in Ottawa where I continued my law studies. Here we became actively involved with the soup kitchen of the Shepherds of Good Hope.

Katie: I began my teaching career in Immaculata High School where I was deeply involved in teaching dramatic arts and producing plays and musicals including Godspell and Les Misérables. The skills I learned in this position turned out to be central in my later years. The love of poetry I acquired while teaching High School has resulted in my deepest, sincerest thoughts and emotions being expressed through poetry to this day.

Suddenly I was struck down with a very severe case of spinal myelitis from which it took me months to recover. In the hospital I enjoyed an epiphany which only intensified my desire to serve overseas as a missionary. In this intense spiritual experience I was given the grace to put total trust in God. I no longer felt a need to be influenced by merely human reasons or feelings. I had absolutely no fear. I was in total peace. I knew that I was called to a life of service to the needy and oppressed.

When did you act upon this call?

Katie: When I recovered from my illness and John had completed all his legal studies we volunteered for overseas service with Volunteer International Christian Service (VICS). My brother had served in The Gambia as a VICS volunteer and we were delighted when a suitable posting was found in Saint Lucia in the Caribbean. Our parents and friends urged delay. I was still weak after my illness and Annie, our daughter, was still a baby. But we knew the time was right.

John: I ran a free legal clinic for the Archdiocese(www.archdioceseof castries.org/). This clinic served those who were too poor to afford legal fees of any sort. Katie worked in a school for the deaf, where she learned the art of teaching children who could not hear from Sr Grace Martin CND, herself a volunteer. She gave Katie the task of working with the small group of children, profoundly deaf, who had never been to school before.

Katie: Two of them in particular, Robert and Anika, will forever be in my heart and prayers. Both were abandoned children living on their wits begging for food and shelter. Neither had ever been in school. Neither had been socialized with other children. With them I had to start at the very beginning and earn their trust and affection despite the scars left by years of neglect and by their inability to hear and speak. It gives me great satisfaction to know that Robert, who can now sign and lip read, is employed as a banana picker and is able to support himself. Anika learned sign language and is nearly finished with her studies to become a teacher for the deaf.

After nearly a year and a half in St Lucia, disaster struck. Annie contracted dengue fever. As the fever took deeper and deeper hold Annie became weaker and weaker. She wasted away before our eyes. The medication was having no effect. The doctor said that she was too weak to transfer to Canada. Our new-found friends, especially Ivy, Hilary and Charlie, rallied around us in constant support. John and I bonded with this group of St Lucians as we had never bonded with friends before, as they kept vigil with us by day and by night. When we began to realize that we might lose our firstborn, our little angel, Annie’s fever broke. The prayers of the poor, the deaf and two frantic Canadians had been heard in Heaven. Life could never be the same again.

Each of you have jobs, you John as a public prosecutor, you Katie as an elementary teacher. You are bringing up three children. Where does your vocation as Lay Spiritan enter your lives?

John: It inspires us and guides us in every aspect of our lives. As a family of five we try to live counter-cultural lives. We live in modest accommodation and have Tina our Ugandan refugee friend living with us. Our home is TV-free and the children have no video games etc. We live as a household of faith, filtering out where possible elements of the life outside the home which are contrary to the model Jesus lived and taught. We stress prayer, meals, communication. We treat each other and the children with dignity and respect. We teach them the responsibility which comes with their many talents. We hold family discussions. Having a refugee living with us is a challenging and rewarding experience.

Sunday liturgies are important for us as a family especially when we gather with the other local Lay Spiritans and their families for our monthly Mass. The children of the group have formed a natural community and they love to participate in the liturgical action.

Not that everything is plain sailing. Katie and I suffer the agonies and enjoy the ecstasies which parenting brings. And as our children reach adolescence we know that there will be some difficult times ahead.

For instance Locky, now five years old, has been invited this weekend to a ‘laser gun’ birthday party; a glorified war game. We refused to allow him to participate. It will take a lot of prayer and communication to explain decisions like this to Locky when he is fifteen.

Katie: I job share with Angela Carroll as Grade 2 teacher in St John’s elementary school in Toronto. As well as dealing with the secular curriculum, we prepare our students for the reception of their First Communion. It is delightful to speak of the love of God to children who are so innocent. ‘Trailing clouds of glory, have they come from God, who is their home.’ And yet it is at this tender age that we broach the topic of bullying which often begins to manifest itself in six and seven-year-olds.

I also spend a lot of time working in the Hannon-Shields Centre for Leadership and Peace. Since my background is drama, I am very involved in the Centre’s Peace Theatre (www.childrenspeacetheatre.org) and its summer peace camp where theater, poetry, dance and song teach and express a philosophy of conciliation, communication and non-violence.

John: As a prosecutor in the courts involving domestic abuse, I try to ensure that all involved, victims and aggressors, are treated with justice and compassion. I work towards reconciliation and forgiveness rather than conviction and punishment, although these will often be necessary. I stress that violence is always destructive, that the only road to happiness and growth is a culture of peace. The court system is designed to be fair, just and respectful of the accused. And I believe that even one person can make a difference.

Katie: So do I. In a culture of aggression, conflict and war, all my effort, in the home, school and the Peace Centre, is to provide an example of compassionate leadership. Working towards establishing and living a culture of peace is at the centre of my spiritual life, my family life, my life of service to others. In its deepest form it finds expression in my poetry. And for John and me, much of our prayer takes the form of wiping noses, hugging, listening, respecting those whom Jesus served and called ‘the poor.’ The children, the handicapped, the oppressed, the victims, these are our vineyard.

And in this, the spirit of Des Places and Libermann, the Spiritan charism, lives on.