Columban Mission June/July2015

The Magazine of the Missionary Society of St. Columban

Practical Spirituality

June/July 2015

The Book that Reads Me

A

friend, commenting on letters from her mother said, “She writes a great letter, you feel you are right there in the middle of it!” I thought what a wonderful way this is to experience and read the Bible. We are right there in the middle of it.

We may approach scripture unwillingly, because we find it too difficult. Even worse, we may come to it with a sense of weary familiarity. While both attitudes lack something, we can still be grateful that we come to it at all. To leave the Book unopened is to leave the letter unread, with much hidden.

“Vatican II,” in the document Dei Verbum, puts it like this: In the Sacred Books, the Father who is in heaven meets His children with great love and speaks to them; and the force and power in the word of God is so great that it remains the support and energy of the Church, the strength of faith for her children, the food of the soul, the pure and perennial source of spiritual life.

Are we meeting the Father in the Bible? Meeting the One who, as the Psalmist said, knit me together in my mother’s womb (Ps 139), who, as our Lord told us, knows even the number of hairs on our head.

The Father wants us to know Him, wants us to be at ease and at home with Him. To risk meeting the Father is to have our superficial peace disturbed, our shallow security In So Many Words undermined, and our lightweight values overhauled.

Sister Redempta Twomey It is a courageous act to open the Bible.

We search for the living and the true God in the scriptures. Like the man looking for treasure (in the story Jesus told), we will have to dig deep, to give all our energies, even our life, to the task.

I once heard a story about a woman in a village in Africa, who never went anywhere without her Bible. She read it frequently and all her neighbors knew of her love for the book. “Why are you always reading the Bible?” they asked her. “Surely there are many other books you can also read?” The woman smiled, and holding up the Bible said, “Yes indeed, there are many, many other books I can read, but this is the only Book that can read me.”

It is a courageous act to open the Bible.

Columban Sr. Redempta Twomey lives and works in Ireland.

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A Journey Away from Home My First Missionary Assignment

By Erl Dylan J. Tabaco

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he popular quote, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” penetrates into my consciousness when I think of my Columban formation since I entered the seminary in June 2007.

This is exactly what my journey is all about from a well-discerned decision of saying YES to God’s invitation to missionary priesthood to a daily commitment to the whole formation process. Those salient years of self-discovery, self-acceptance and self-giving to the whole formation program affirmed my decision to continue and begin my First Missionary Assignment (FMA).

The thought of being sent to another country and to experience intercultural living for the first time garnered mixed emotions in me. It was a mixture of excitement, anxiety, joy and anticipation.

When I received my appointment from Columban Fr. Kevin O’Neal that I would be sent to Peru, I was very 4

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Immersing yourself into another culture which is distinct from yours is like entering into another’s garden where you will encounter weeds among the wheat. What appear to be weeds to us may appear to be wheat to the local people. happy since this is where I wanted to do my first missionary assignment.

Two months before my appointment date began, I was excited and at the same time anxious about leaving my family and friends in the Philippines. The inspiring words of Fr. Ray Husband, my rector, and other Columban missionaries in the Philippines helped me prepare for the journey. Time went so quickly, and soon my preparations were over from packing up my things to a simple despedida party.

Everything was set already and the feeling of traveling outside the country had started to sink in. It was my first time to travel outside the country,

but the chance to explore the world made me excited all the more. It was a memorable moment for me, seeing different magnificent landscapes, meeting different people and reaching this stage of my formation.

After thirty-six hours of exciting travel our plane finally landed in the third-largest country in South America known for its famous landscapes, the birthplace of Inca civilization and St. Rose of Lima, Peru.

As I made my way into the airport I felt anxious since everything was in Spanish. I was trying to calm myself and preparing what to say as I was approaching the immigration office for further interviews. But even with WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

…my attention was caught by these two words in Spanish: bienvenido (welcome) and adelante (forward). At that time I didn’t know how those two words would bring a great impact in my missionary journey in Peru. my improvised sign language and little Spanish, I was able to express myself in a way that I wanted to.

While waiting in the luggage section for Emmanuel, my Filipino companion for my FMA, my attention was caught by these two words in Spanish: bienvenido (welcome) and adelante (forward).

At that time I didn’t know how those two words would bring a great impact in my missionary journey in Peru. I reflected upon it and asked myself maybe these two words are important dispositions that a missionary should have.

Speaking of welcome, Fr. Tony Coney (Regional Director of Peru) and Fr. John Boles (FMA director) made me feel at home with their reassuring presence in the airport.

While on our way to the central house it made me think of my vocation towards priesthood. My heart was in deep joy and gratitude for God’s presence through my experiences and persons whom I met along the way.

My first night in Peru required some adjustment since there is a 13-hour time difference from the Philippines. It was late at night already, but my body was not yet accustomed to Peru’s local time.

Aside from the time changes, the winter season was something new to me. Coming from a tropical country with a usual temperature of 38 degrees centigrade to a sudden shift of as low as 15 degrees was a big adjustment for me. The winter clothes that I brought with me somewhat lessened my discomfort.

As I immersed myself in a new environment, culture, language and lifestyle I was reminded of my years in WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

my local parish in the Philippines as a youth volunteer working with some Columban priests. Those significant years of my parish involvement instilled in me the kindness and generosity of the Columbans that I met and worked with. Through that first-hand experience with them as missionaries and in their simple ways and dedication for the local Church in the Philippines, I have learned to value my own calling and relish the missionary spirit that is within me. It is only in finding my heart’s desire and allowing that desire to magnify by touching the lives of other people where I can truly live my life’s purpose. Revisiting those experiences and applying the learned values gave me a fresh mindset and spirit-filled first night in Peru as I looked forward in the coming days.

Prior to our language class, we had an orientation program about Peru in general and the history of Columban mission in the region. The session served as a venue for us to express our first impressions about the country and our expectations as well. It was a great opportunity for us to learn about the country–geography, culture, history, custom and lifestyle.

Like any missionary, it is an indispensable tool to learn and appreciate what a country is all about and how the people live in accordance to its customs and traditions before going to the assigned mission.

Immersing yourself into another culture which is distinct from yours is like entering into another’s garden where you will encounter weeds among the wheat. What appear to be weeds to us may appear to be wheat to the local people. Thus having cultural

awareness and sensitivity to individual differences can mitigate one’s biases and prejudices.

As the days passed by, we had a chance to meet the rest of our FMA team who accomapnied us throughout our stay here in Peru.

Meeting them gave us much assurance that it will be a great experience.

During orientation we also had the chance to visit the historical part of the country’s capital, Lima City.

We visited colonial churches and mansions, historical and religious monuments of two Peruvian saints (St. Rose of Lima and St. Martin de Porres) and enormous museums which depicted the strong Spanish influence of the Peruvian culture and art, helped me to appreciate the uniqueness and grandeur of what Peru can offer to the world. Roaming around “Plaza de Armas” which is in the heart of colonial Peru allowed me to appreciate the history of my own country and how the Filipino people struggled against the Spanish inquisitors. Centuries had been June/July 2015

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I have learned to value my own calling and relish the missionary spirit that is within me. It is only in finding my heart’s desire and allowing that desire to magnify by touching the lives of other people where I can truly live my life’s purpose.

passed, but memories remained in all these monuments.

What I enjoyed throughout our whole visit was meeting with people though most of the time I struggled with the language. Despite the language barrier, we were still lucky to have Ana Flores, a Columban lay missionary who was with us who never tired of explaining to us in our own language. Two weeks of orientation and seeing the beautiful places in Lima helped relieve my homesickness.

It was a great experience and a good opportunity to regain energy before the language class starts.

Learning a new language is not as easy as adjusting to the weather and time difference. Learning again the basics from phonetics to grammar structures brought me to my early childhood experiences when I was still trying to mimic the sounds that I heard.

While our language class was in progress we stayed in Casa de Santiago Apostol, owned by a group of priests who belonged to the Society of Apostolic life, who are good friends and contemporaries of Columban Fathers in the region. It was a great idea to stay there considering the distance and heavy traffic from the central house to the house of our professor. Aside from being close to where we studied, there was a magnificent view of the Pacific 6

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Ocean which was right at the back of our house and provided us an environment that was conducive for learning.

There was enough space for recreation and reflection after a stressful week of study. Four months of language study was not an easy journey for me. It brought me to be more aware of my defenses and how to deal with frustrations. Every day was not just a tongue-twister test where I need to pronounce the word correctly, but it was also a test of character on how determined I was to undergo all the challenges of being a missionary.

Despite the difficulties of this endeavor, I was so thankful to professors Betty and Teresa who patiently waited for my learning process to take place. With their reassuring words of poco a poco (little by little) I believe that with enough patience, courage and determination I will be able to speak with much confidence and grasp the formula of understanding the spirit of Spanish language.

To be open for mistakes and feedback was a humbling experience that I gained throughout the course.

Each day provided me an opportunity to practice my Spanish whether on the streets, bus or in public places.

I highly regard the Peruvian peoples’ endurance every time when I was running out of words and my knees were shaking while I was speaking Spanish. I am so grateful for their patience and desire to assist me in every difficulty that I encountered while the conversation was going on.

During those months of language study, I realized what the first two words that I encountered in the airport really meant to me. Those two words speak a lot to my experience and constantly remind me in times when challenges overwhelm me.

The challenges that I have been through bring out the best in me. To welcome others, learn new ways of coping, adjust to a new environment and the challenges that are part of missionary life is a positive disposition that I need to internalize. And moving

Erl and friends

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forward is the best decision that any missionary has to make even during difficult moments. Everything that I learned has now to be put into action for my parish exposures.

For almost one month we visited different Columban parishes and ministries. Every weekend I had a chance to assist some of the Columban Fathers in administering the Sacraments to the faithful. It was a great opportunity to know the parish and how the people participate in the community. Coming from a predominantly Catholic nation, I see that there are many qualities that the church of Peru and the Philippines share. Both countries show how popular devotions have a great impact in the people’s faith life. The reception of Sacraments played a vital role in every community gathering such as Baptism, Confirmation and First Communion. It was a big celebration for the community, and normally there is a party right after the Sacramental celebration.

My visits in four different parishes gave me an opportunity to meet various people from different walks of life. Their hospitality which is expressed in abrazo (a hug) for males and beso (cheek to cheek) for females was amazing, and it feels like home away from home.

It also gave me a sense of awe of the presence of Columban missionaries here in Peru in building communities, especially in some remote areas of Lima. The gratefulness of the people to all the Columban missionaries who touch their lives in their simple ways of being disciples of Jesus in this contemporary time was something that inspired me from within.

Aside from parish visitation, I had a chance to visit as well the different Columban ministries. Fr. Chris Baker’s ministry in ASPHAD (Asociacion de Personas con Habilidades Diferentes) gave me an opportunity to be more creative in dealing with people who WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

Erl in Peru

need special care and attention. I enjoyed talking with the people served

by ASPHAD, and their laughter was something that gave me a sense of inner joy and contentment.

They taught me to be grateful in many simple things that we received each day. Manuel Duato, a school for special needs people whose current president is Columban Fr. Ed O’Connell, was another Columban ministry that I visited. What caught my attention there was the presence of deaf-mute students. This was very close to my heart, since I was in the deaf ministry for a number of years before I entered in the seminary. It was a blissful feeling to be united again with the people who have a significant role in finding your life´s mission.

Two other ministries that widened my horizon to the realities of social injustices in Peru caused by poverty, violence and discrimination were the St. Bernadette’s children’s home and ¨Sí Da Vida¨ (HIV-AIDS Program) administered by Fr. Tony Coney and Fr. Cathal Gallagher respectively.

Columban ministries in the region have a great impact in the lives of the beneficiaries and their families. Little by little, these programs have sparked a sense of hope in the people amidst this seemingly hopeless condition.

I ended the year 2014 with so much to be thankful for. In just a span of six months I was enriched by many unforgettable experiences that I had in Peru. It was a fruitful journey,

a journey that God had majestically planned and stored in me since my first YES to his invitation. He lets all things happen in His time.

I believe that each journey is sacred and this journey of mine is exactly a masterpiece of God’s unconditional and unceasing love. This is a journey of how my faith in God transcended vis-à-vis with my integration of being a person who responded to His invitation in joy, love and humility.

As I reflect on my journey away from home, I’ve realized that though I am very far from my physical home each step of the way is bringing me closer to my real home where I can truly say that this is where my heart is….my being a missionary is what my treasure is. Everything was made possible because of that seed of faith that germinates at the depths of my being.

As I continue my missionary journey here in Peru I wish for a more fruitful experience along the way. All throughout my seminary formation helped me realized that when we find our true self, we find God and when we find God, we find our true self.

Whenever we come to great truth about ourselves, we enter this ideal home; being ourselves and accepted for who we are. This is the greatest gift that I can share with the people here in Peru whom I am called to serve. CM

Erl Tabaco is a Columban seminarian.

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Pray for us…

The Practicalities of Prayer

By Chris Hochstetler

I

recall a time when I was a younger that I was asked to describe my own spirituality. It was difficult for me to do so, not because I didn’t have any, but rather because it all seemed so mysterious. The mystery seemed to add an element of confusion to it all, and that confusion stood as a barrier between God and me and caused me to consider spirituality as something other than being practical.

Perhaps it is a sharper phenomenon of the young that clears with maturity and experience, but recalling that uncomfortable moment still makes me shift a little awkwardly in my chair!

I didn’t often think about the words spirituality and practicality in the same context, instead I viewed my spirituality as something that was exercised on the Sabbath and perhaps relied upon in emergency situations. I didn’t realize that a fuller understanding of my own spirituality and, in turn, others, wouldn’t come until I started to view spirituality as being infinitely practical.

For me, it began with accepting the power of prayer and also accepting that others prayed for me. One of the Columban Fathers, with whom I spend many hours, has recounted to me what the prayers of others have meant to him. Ordained for nearly 54 years, with 23 years spent in Fiji and eight years in Japan, he knows something of the significance of prayer and the uplifting power that comes from the prayers of others.

He recounted to me a visit back to 10

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his home parish many years after his ordination to find one of his grammar school teachers, a Mercy Sister nearing the end of her own journey, and the words she left him with. “All those years, I prayed for you every day, by name.” These petitions aren’t merely “feel good” moments, but rather a practical and powerful spiritual thread that binds all of us together as one human family. These prayers, particularly the petitions we offer for others, strengthen our spirituality and bring us closer to God and to each other. St. Paul shares with us as much: First of all, then, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and for all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and come to knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:1 – 4) A comforting and connecting feeling washes over me each time one of our benefactors, friends who walk this missionary journey with us, tell me that they keep the Columban Fathers in their prayers. The

Columban Fathers also pray for our benefactors daily, as do I. A similar feeling of connection and peace comes over me during this time of prayer. I have been able to offer these petitions in some very special and holy places and feel most comfortable offering them during my devotion to the Holy Rosary. I have offered decants of the Rosary for our benefactors in places like Malate church in the Philippines, a church constructed by the Columbans in the 1950s from the ruins of the original Malate church built in 1591. It was here in 1945 that Columban Fathers Peter Fallon, John Heneghan, Patrick Kelly, Joseph Monaghan and John Lalor were martyred for our faith. I have also offered petitions for our benefactors at the summit of San Cristóbal Hill in Santiago, Chile, under the loving arms of the statue of the Immaculate Conception, the Blessed Virgin Mary which stands 22 meters tall, the site where St. John Paul II blessed the city of Santiago in 1987.

There are countless other places where I have offered petitions for others, some beautiful and ornate, some simple and austere. We have even offered petitions for you, WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

our friends, as we drive across the highways of America admiring the beauty of God’s creation and always I am reminded that this is the practicality of spirituality. It is a practicality that weaves all of us into a shared tapestry of faith where we all belong. It binds us as a family and unites us as one. I was made very aware of the connective element of prayer while attending an evening Mass in one of the most impoverished sections of Lima, Peru.

We parishioners stood singing on the dirt floor of the poorly lit chapel as the procession made its way to the altar.

There are no pews in this church, only some cast away plastic chairs that have been aligned in good order.

Columban Fr. John Boles introduced us to the full congregation. “We are joined by some of our family from the United States who have come to visit us,” Fr. John explained. “We offer our prayers of thanks for them and our family across the United States who have helped in providing this beautiful church!” And then the people prayed…Our extended family in South America prayed for us. They offered petitions in a very practical way for their extended family, their WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

human family back in the United States, Columban benefactors who helped them to find a holy place, a sanctuary. In that moment, I realized that we truly are one Church, one family, one people. We are joined by the strength of our faith, which is made stronger through the practicality of prayer.

It has to be a good thing for all of us to introspectively examine the practicality of our own spirituality.

It is, after all, one way that we can continue the formation process that we are all undergoing. In 2013, Pope Francis reached out to a prominent atheist intellectual Eugenio Scalfari.

He requested an interview with him, and they met. The transcripts of that meeting are some of the most compelling and fascinating of our Holy Father’s tenure, thus far. During the session, Pope Francis asks Scalfari a telling question. It is a question that speaks to the practicality of our spirituality and shines the light on why prayer can be the practical bedrock of that spirituality. The Holy Father asks Scalfari, “You, a secular non-believer in God, what do you believe in? You are a writer and a man of thought.

You believe in something, you must have a dominant value. Don’t answer me with words like honesty, seeking, the vision of the common good, all important principles and values but that is not what I am asking. I am asking what you think is the essence of the world, indeed the universe.

You must ask yourself, of course, like everyone else, who we are, where we come from, where we are going.

Even children ask themselves these questions. And you?” (Pope Francis, Time Magazine Oct. 2013) It’s clear that the Holy Father’s questions for Scalfari call all of us to a deeper understanding of who we are and where we are going. Prayer is a binding ingredient that can make our spirituality a practical part of our life, it binds us together as His people and unites us as one. We pray for you.

Please pray for us. CM Chris Hochstetler is the director of planned giving the U. S. Region of the Society.

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My Grandfather All Things Turn Out for the Best

By Fr. Joe Broderick

I

am my father’s father’s grandson and because of him and his lifestyle I am what I am and where I am today. It all goes to prove that you can make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear if God is doing the sewing.

My grandfather, Owen Brooder, lived in the west of Ireland in the village where I first saw the light of day and bawled. He was then an old man in his late eighties, and I adored him. Why, I do not know as he never spoke to me or sat me on his knees. He looked so ancient and was a Moses-like figure waiting for his day to cross the River Jordan into the Promised Land. He was born there too, in the time when Ireland was still under British rule and absentee landlords ruled the roost. They had their agents gather the backbreaking 12

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rents and God help anyone who could not or would not pay that rent.

When Owen was a young man, the people in my area rose up in rebellion against the absentee landlord system and refused to pay the rents.

The agents were sent to evict those who rebelled and the local police would stand between the evictors and the local bystanders who had come to watch the crucifixion, making sure that no blood would be spilled.

Those were the rules to be kept at eviction time. The people barricaded themselves into their houses and refused to come out or allow the agents to evict them. When the agents came close to demolish the house, the men inside would pour hot water, hot coals and bees and rocks down on them from holes in the thatched roofs.

These events became known in history as the Woodford evictions.

Of course, Owen Brooder was a ring leader. Usually in the end, the agents would bring along re-enforcements and the people were thrown out with their belongings on the side of the road. Owen was arrested, jailed and, while the powers that be were making a suitable rope to hang him high for all to see, he escaped and, with the help of friends, he made his way to the United States leaving his father and mother evicted and at the mercy of the elements and good neighbors.

In New Jersey where he settled, he met a lovely Irish girl from County Leitrim and duly married her. In time, two children were born, my father and his older sister, not in that order of course. When my father was four WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

and his sister was six, Owen Brooder after attending Sunday Mass with the family, said to his darling wife, “Katie my love, I am taking the two kids down town for an ice cream so you have a good dinner ready for us when we come back.” He told no lie for he never said what day he was coming back. As it turned out, he had arranged three tickets back to Ireland by ship and so, leaving his darling Katie in the kitchen, he departed for the land he could never forget.

He could not go back to his place of birth as it had been taken over by Protestant “planters” from Northern Ireland so he squatted with some of his rebel friends in the area for some years. Then Ireland gained independence so he was able to go back to the family farm as all the planters had to go back to the North or face the possibility of a shot in the back in the dark. In years to come, my mother would say that at least those planters did one good thing. They renovated the old thatched cottage into a two story slated roof. It is an ill wind that does not bring some good.

Owen Brooder knew a lot about fighting the British but little about farming. It fell on my father’s shoulders to learn the trade of ploughing from an early age thus forfeiting any chance of elementary education. His big sister pined for her mother whom she missed very much.

Times were hard, money scarce, and there was little joy in the children’s lives. Everybody was in a similar boat.

Then, one day when my father was fourteen, a great light shone in his darkness. His mother, Katie, came back to Ireland because she missed so much her darling daughter and son and settled down to Irish rural life, a far cry from the comforts of New Jersey.

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He became the village spokesman and all and everyone would come to him for free advice which he gave with eloquence.

Things rested so and life went on calmly for nine months when suddenly something seldom seen in those parts came to the back gate of our house. It had four wheels on it, and it was called a taxi. The likes were never seen before. Katie had her plans, and living in Ireland was not one of them. She had quietly bought three tickets back to the United States, but it was her bad luck that the day she chose to leave was the threshing day down at the bottom of the field where my father was up to his neck in work so Katie could only take her daughter back to America and was never to meet her son again after that.

I am sure that in those days in rural Ireland that event, that scandal, must have been the talk of the town and no doubt good material for a Sunday sermon. My father was stuck with his father. I cannot afford not to mention

that my grandfather did not believe in work. He felt, because he had fought for Ireland against the British and helped to rid that scourge from our midst, he had no need to work. He became the village spokesman and all and everyone would come to him for free advice which he gave with eloquence.

After losing his mother again, my father ran away from home at 16, and joined the newly-formed Irish army swearing that he was 18, but a simple letter to the local parish priest blew that lie so he was discharged in disgrace and sent back to work with his father again.

He lived and slaved, grew up and courted a lovely lady who was a daughter of another eviction rebel who was also jailed for his crime. That lady knew Owen Brooder very well because he often visited her father and they would spend hours talking about their heroic fight for Irish freedom.

She took to him very easily because he was so gentlemanly and looked forward to the day when she could marry his only son (and no motherin-law in sight) with whom she was smitten. “He would be a good catch,” she told her friends. She got him. She married him at eighteen and moved in with him and shared roof with the rebel gentleman she so admired.

She soon discovered, but too late, that Owen Brooder was a street angel and a house devil and thus began her long years of matrimonial servitude.

Ten children were born of which I was number seven. There is something special about the number seven in the Bible, I am told, but that is beside the point.

On fine days Owen would sit under the big oak tree on the roadside outside the house, paring twigs into shavings and chatting amiably with June/July 2015

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On fine days Owen would sit under the big oak tree on the roadside outside the house, paring twigs into shavings and chatting amiably with all who passed by. all who passed by. “Are you going to the wake tonight, Owen?” The answer was always the same. “Of course I am. Who is dead?” He did not care who was dead. He went for the free drinks, eats, clay tobacco pipes and an opportunity to tell again the story of his fight to free Ireland.

On wet days he would sit by the open hearth fire and pare twigs and scatter the shavings all over the kitchen floor–much to my mother’s chagrin. If one of the children fell into the fire, he would not lift a finger to take him or her out. He would just shout out, “There is a child in the fire,” hoping that mother was around to do the saving job. He lived with us until he was 93, “outliving his welcome” as my mother would say. He died peacefully.

I often reflect on him. He was a part of my life, and I thank my God that he was what he was when he was.

If he was a good husband and stood by his Katie, living the American dream in New Jersey, his son would never have met my mother, and I would not have been born. It is a miracle. Because he was what he was when he was, I was born, became a Columban missionary priest and am now in the autumn of my life in Japan. My grandfather crisscrossed to follow his dream, and I think that was the gene that inspired me to do the same for the Gospel. It just proves that you can make a silk purse from a pig’s ear when God does the stitching.

I am now that silken purse! Thank you, Owen Brooder. Thank you, 14

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God, for all our imperfect parents and grandparents. Thank you, God, for being God when we and our world, our society and our Church seem to be falling asunder. There is nothing to worry about. God has the needle and thread of goodness. All things will turn out for the best. That is the miracle of life. CM Columban Fr. Joe Broderick (pictured at right) lives and works in Japan.

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Wise investing is an important part of our financial health and, believe it or not, our spiritual health as well! Putting our hard earned money into organizations and investments that align with responsible practices and that are consistent with Catholic social teachings is not only prudent fiscally, but also fulfills our commitment to “Remember then the Lord, your God, for he is the one who gives you the power to get wealth…” (Deuteronomy 8:18) Investing in a Gift Annuity with the Missionary Society of St. Columban is both a prudent and fiscally sound way to honor your commitment to your faith.

When you invest in a Gift Annuity with the Society you are giving the society an immediate gift for its missionary work around the world. In return, we promise to pay you a guaranteed annual income for the rest of your life, providing you with a source of secure fixed annual income.

The Columban Fathers Charitable Gift Annuity offers a higher rate of return than you would typically receive from certificates of deposit, and also provides you with tax incentives on the gift as well as the income you receive from the annuity! Moreover, the Charitable Gift Annuity is truly a meaningful way to invest in Catholic missionary work while providing

you and even your loved ones an assured income for life, regardless of health.

Please contact us today at (877) 299-1920 to receive more information on investing in a Charitable Gift Annuity with the Columban Fathers. We are ready to answer your questions and assist you with one of the most important investments that you will ever make.

As always, we remain deeply grateful for your generosity and your commitment to see that the Gospel of Jesus Christ reaches every person and place in the world. We remember you always in our Masses and prayers.

For information regarding gift annuities, membership in our Legacy Society, obtaining our legal title or for a handy booklet on how to prepare a will, contact Chris Hochstetler at:

Columban Fathers

P.O. Box 10

St. Columbans, NE 68056

Phone: (402) 291-1920

Fax: (402) 291-4984

Toll-free: (877) 299-1920

www.columban.org plannedgiving@columban.org

The Would-Be Sister Monica The Fast Journey of Life

By Fr. Warren Kinne

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onica was buried yesterday.

She would have been 100 years old next year which is the year, please God, I reach 70.

She more or less had my father’s birth year and was somewhat older than my mother would have been had she still been alive.

What a wonderful person she was – just a week ago, she was full of humor and energy. I liked to visit her and was a bit embarrassed about the way she would fuss over me. She always gently chided me: “When was the last time you came?” I liked to come unannounced so that she didn’t put on a big meal that I didn’t want, and she shouldn’t have needed to bother about.

My memory of her is of her love and her faith and her warmth towards the Columban society.

Monica – Xia Jing Xian – had been a diocesan religious Sister of the group that Bishop Galvin set up in Hanyang.

She vividly remembered Bishop Galvin and so many of those early Columbans who worked in her home diocese. She could rattle off names and was forever eulogizing those early missionaries.

Bishop Galvin disbanded the group when the Communists came to power over 60 years ago. Monica had for a long time hoped that the group could be reconstituted, but that came too late for her. She married but was too old to have children and spent her life working as a nurse.

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Monica and Fr. Warren

I lack so much exact and accurate information – dates and names – like most of us do with parents and grandparents. We only realize it fully the moment they are gone. My problem had also been her Hubei accent. There were priests I would have known, but their Chinese names were unknown to me. There was the confusion of that different phoneticization that was used then. I am a week late to gather all that rich archival information. But it doesn’t matter – my memory of her is of her

love and her faith and her warmth towards the Columban society. It made me mindful and appreciative of the work of the group I belong to and of those who have gone before me.

Now all I have are memories and those intriguing but inaccurate details about her life.

From what I have learned, Monica was born in 1915 in Xiantao, Hubei Province in a town then called Mianyang. She was one of two girls and three boys in the family. In 1935 there was a huge flood, and the WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

dam on the Yangtze River near their hometown burst so the whole family took a small boat to Hangyang. There she studied in a Columban school and became an embroidery worker. Later she joined the diocesan Sisters, studied nursing and was later to become an operating theater nurse.

In her career as a nurse she worked at the Columban Hospital in Nancheng in Jiangxi Province.

In Shanghai, after the group was disbanded, she worked in the former Catholic Hospital now called the Rui Jin Hospital.

In 1970 she married a man who had wanted to marry her for over 10 years prior to this, but she had kept insisting that she was a nun. They

had a happy married life until he died in 2008. She was too old to have children when she married.

I couldn’t even make the funeral.

Her household help and a distant relative rang me and said that “she had gone.” I wondered, momentarily, if she had “gone away” on holidays. The reality only sunk in slowly as she was in fine fettle just a week ago.

On Sunday, I had agreed to a Mass at St. Peter’s at exactly the time of the celebration of her life in the funeral parlor. But she would have preferred it that way – to be remembered in the Mass.

I loved to take people to see her, and she too enjoyed the company.

My two sisters and a niece met her as

well as Chinese friends and a handful of Columbans who visited. She was always welcoming. She wanted to give gifts to me – coffee and biscuits that I didn’t need. She would stand up and rummage about in her cupboard looking for something. She would stuff me with food that I didn’t really want. Monica was a glimpse into a past I hadn’t experienced and a China I didn’t know.

Monica always wanted a blessing and would check to see that I had

I had agreed to a Mass at St. Peter’s at exactly the time of the celebration of her life in the funeral parlor. But she would have preferred it that way – to be remembered in the Mass.

She vividly remembered Bishop Galvin and so many of those early

enough warm clothing on. She was full of humor, and her sympathy was decidedly with the underground Church.

There will never be another Chinese Monica. We live in that river of time. Only eternity will reunite us to those moments we fleetingly cherish on this ever so fast journey of life towards our future with God – and one of them will be Chinese Monica. CM

Columbans who worked in her home diocese. She could rattle off names and was forever eulogizing those early missionaries.

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Columban Fr. Warren Kinne lives and works in China.

June/July 2015

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From Martha to Mary My Missionary Story

By Lenette P. Toledo

T

ime passed by so quickly, unnoticed. It seems like only yesterday when I came to Ireland and now my three-year commitment to cross-cultural mission is about to end. I feel that three years is so short! I am just beginning to find my way around, falling in love with the place and its people and soon I will be uprooted again. I know I will be missing my new friends in the community, my pastoral involvement and especially the people in my ministry. I feel sad, but I am also looking forward to going home and seeing my family.

I was assigned to Ashbourne, County Meath, Ireland. The first few months in my ministry were a challenge as I found my way around.

I had to look, listen, and observe to understand and integrate myself in parish-community life. But I felt so rewarded with so many blessings!

Ashbourne is a vibrant community of hospitable, kind and generous people.

The priests and the parishioners are very supportive, understanding and caring which made me feel at home. I sensed a strong presence of sincerity, commitment, sharing, hard work and unity. I was touched by the humility and leadership qualities of our parish priest and curate. Their openness gave confidence and a good venue for the parishioners to share their thoughts and feelings. I felt so blessed to belong to such community and share my presence and support to the people.

Ashbourne is a diverse community, and there was no ministry or apostolate waiting for me when I came to the parish. I had to make myself available and flexible to answer whatever was needed. They said 18

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that by being present, a missionary is already doing mission through witnessing but that wasn’t enough for me. I felt uncomfortable by just being there. I associate myself very much with Martha in the Gospel. I feel useless not doing something, because I know that I have talents, gifts and abilities to polish! And to keep these talents, gifts, and abilities to myself is a sin. I’m afraid that one day God will ask me why I didn’t use the talents He has given me.

After a few months of listening and observing the parish life. I volunteered to join the senior citizens’ meeting every Monday and visited the confirmation class in schools.

The confirmation class is part of the parents and teachers program which is a parish-based ministry. I found joy in helping the parish on liturgical celebrations and visiting the sick and the elderly in their homes.

During my three years in Ireland, I had ups and downs as well especially when members of my family, (my parents, particularly my beloved father) in the Philippines were in and out of the hospital. During these times, I was comforted by God through the kindness, goodness, love and presence of friends. The unfailing support of the people around me gave me strength and inspiration in my missionary journey.

One of my more memorable opportunities was to attend a week of workshop and conference of RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) in All Hallows, Dublin. I never had any experience giving formation to people who wanted to become Catholic so the whole experience was totally new to me. To journey with

the people coming from different countries, religious background/beliefs and culture was a big challenge for me. I realized then how important my faith, culture and my being a Filipina are to me as missionary.

Faith in God first and foremost is the most important recipe in mission. I know that I can’t do things by myself.

Without Him I am nothing.

My experience of walking with people from different cultures, backgrounds and races has enriched my life, my capacity and openness to listen and learn from their experiences.

They have taught me to be more flexible, more loving, compassionate and kind. To walk with them was a humbling experience indeed! For that, I am truly ever grateful and I could proudly say that after three years, gratefulness is the language of my heart! Everything is attributed to God! Thank you for such an enriching experience in my missionary journey! Now I can truly say that what matters most to me are not my accomplishments. Rather, it is my relationship with people that I value the most. CM Lenette is back in Ireland for her second term as Columban Lay Missionary. She is presently assigned in Holy Spirit Parish, Ballymun, in Dublin.

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They Bear the Scars Poverty’s Malcontent Companions

By Chris Hochstetler

C

olumban parishes throughout Chile vividly bear the scars of missionary work in impoverished and sometimes violent places. Poverty is not always solely accompanied by despair, but at times also by addiction, violence and thievery. Columban missionaries in Chile have had their fair share of experiences in dealing with poverty’s malcontent companions. The latest round has been going on for quite some time and exacts a price on every parish and all of the families who call these parishes their home.

Virtually every Columban parish in Chile has been victimized by breakins and thievery over the past several years and the chapels bear the scars of those break-ins. Regional Director, Columban Fr. Alvaro Martinez has come to view it as one of the daily tolls of the missionary calling on the margins. “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the arms to rest – Then poverty will come upon you like a robber, and want like a brigand.” (Proverbs 24:33-34) He even somewhat laughingly wonders if he will have to begin regularly budgeting for the costly repair of such invasions.

When you visit Columban parishes in Santiago, you will be struck by several things. Initially, you will recognize the abject poverty of the people and the conditions where they live in the outer rings of this metropolitan city. The housing is often pieced together scraps of wood, tin and tires. Where government apartments have been subsidized and built for families, drug dealers prey on the youth. Without resources 20

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to dedicate toward policing and controlling the drug trade, the government eventually resorts to knocking down the apartments that they just constructed, in an ill-advised attempt to drive the drug traffickers out. The families then return to the only makeshift housing that they can afford, scraps of wood, tin and tires. It would seem to be a perpetual cycle. Infrastructure is poor at best, and many of the neighborhoods wait for “comfort” services like electricity, running water, sewage and paved roads. The children in these neighborhoods struggle to earn an education. There is much for them to battle in the passing of only one day in their young lives. If one can move beyond the initial reaction to the neighborhoods and the conditions, a more important and prominent realization will find you. The people are happy, thankful, faith-filled, giving, welcoming and joyous.

And why shouldn’t it be so? Our joy is not derived from the nature of our home, the infrastructure around us, from our roads or even from our schools, but rather from Christ who is the source of all our joy. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13) Certainly, Christ is the sole source of tremendous joy for the parishioners and the missionaries and their true homes are their capillas, their chapels.

The chapels are their sanctuaries, and lately those sanctuaries have been under attack.

In one of Columban Fr. Willie Lee’s chapel there is a large hole

in the parish office ceiling directly above a welcoming poster of Christ.

The chapel has been a target of repeated break-in attempts, and on this occasion the thieves were able to scale a pole outside the chapel fence to gain entry. After gaining access to the chapel grounds, they tore a small hole in the eaves of the chapel office and crawled through the roof and then through another hole torn in the ceiling directly above Christ’s outstretched arms. They took the parish secretary’s only computer system with vital records as well as materials for the parish catechetic program. Fr. Willie commented about the tenacity and ingenuity of the attack, shaking his head. “They must have had a small child do the work for them, to get through a hole so small.” Would it be that level of ingenuity could be directed to more productive pursuits! So, the struggling parish that should be able to invest in items to help spread the Gospel to those in most need is now confronted with the expense of chapel repair and replacing items so desperately needed to continue God’s work.

This chapel is not the only Columban chapel to be vandalized.

Chapels all over the parish have similar stories. At most chapels, parishioners have had to install bars over the windows to prevent thieves from entry. At one of Columban Fr. John McLaughlin’s chapels, the bars only deterred the robbers for a moment.

When they realized that it was useless to fight through the barred windows, the thieves simply cut an entry directly below the window and right through the outside wall of the chapel! The WWW.COLUMBAN.ORG

parishioners quickly boarded up the destroyed wall and the work of God continues as young catechumens study inside in continuing joy filled faith formation, even though there is no resources to fix the wall properly! At another chapel, the mortar around the activity room door jamb bears the scars of countless crowbarred attempts to pry the door from its heavy hinges.

Columban Fr., Chris Saenz recounts a story of when their chapel was broken into and the very Chalice for Christ’s Precious Blood was taken, presumably to be sold or traded for drugs. Fr. Chris asks the question that is in all of our minds “Who would buy or trade this precious article of faith for drugs?” Of course, it is reminiscent of a story that we all know well.

While he was still speaking, a crowd approached and in front was one of the Twelve a man named Judas. He went up to Jesus to kiss him. Jesus said to him, “Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?” (Luke 22:47-48)

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To be certain, there are many places all over the world where robberies and looting occur, but some sense tells me that this is different.

The chapels in these neighborhoods are truly gathering places of goodness; they are beacons of light in an otherwise darkened place. The people gather here to express their gratitude and joy to their Creator and to share in the goodness that is one another.

Quite obviously, the powers of darkness and the culture that it has created take affront to this, and it is rightfully afraid. Therefore, the result are the very personal attacks on the one place that we can feel completely safe…our Church. The people are resilient and strong and their faith carries them through these trying times, but one cannot help wonder about the price that they pay for having their homes, their safe place, and their sanctuaries, violated over and over again in this way.

The answer comes to us the same way that it always does, through

Christ. As I ponder how this problem can be solved, I look through one of the damaged and barred windows of a beautiful chapel. Behind me from the open windows of a classroom I hear the rising voices of the young catechumens singing a song of praise. As I peer through the bars of the window into the empty and dark sanctuary, I can begin to see the image of Christ above the altar. Somehow, through the darkness the image of Christ stands as if it is apart from the cross, rightfully separate from it as He is no longer on it. No, He is risen and among us, His arms spread in a welcoming and loving embrace that is offered to us and even to the thieves who would violate such a special place. CM Chris Hochstetler is the director of fund development for the Missionary Society of St. Columban in St. Columbans, Nebraska.

June/July 2015

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A Coming of Age Ceremony Entering Adulthood

By Fr. Barry Cairns

“Coming of Age Day” is a Japanese national holiday celebrated on the second Monday of January. Until 2000 it was set for January 15, but the “Happy Monday System” for national holidays changed the date.

This celebration of adulthood at age 20 comes from a custom that started in the year 714 when the young Imperial Prince at 20 donned a new style robe and hair style. This custom gradually broadened until today it embraces all. Most of the young women dress up in colorful kimono with long sleeves, with a special obi and zori sandals. A visit to the hairdresser is usual.

We at the Church have a special blessing for the new adults on Sunday.

We pray that they receive help and strength form the Holy Spirit and that they grow in wisdom, courage and knowledge of God. The priest lays hands on them and gives a gift from the Church.

On Monday they go to City Hall to be feted. They often meet classmates that they have not met since grade school. A talk is given, usually by the mayor, on the rights, privileges and responsibilities of adults. Beginning at age 20, they can legally vote, drink and smoke.

In 2013, the media was full of foreboding about the grim future for these new adults. One publisher survey said that 80% of 20-year-olds have a gloomy view of Japan’s future.

They see poor prospects for a job for life, and 75.6% said they expect little or nothing from politicians.

This gloom is topped off by a fear that permeates all Japan since the earthquake, tsunami and consequent 22

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nuclear disaster on March 11, 2011.

Almost every day the media tells us of a new earthquake fault found, of the scant protection available and the thousands projected dead. On top of this the deteriorating conditions between Japan and China sound ominous.

These young adults now live in a Japan where an insidious mist of uncertainty and anxiety permeates society. Hope for the future is at low ebb. But in this atmosphere of darkness we have our two 20-year-olds from Hodogaya. Izumi is in second year university to become a school teacher. She already helps her mother in the church Sunday school. Mina is in second year of a six year course at a Pharmacy University. Mina is active in the deanery Catholic Youth Group and in the Diocesan Catholic Students’ Guild.

Jesus asks His followers to be lights shining in the gloom, and tasty salt

giving society flavor. Izumi and Mina are just that. They exude the joy of faith. They have smiles which bring light to the people they meet. Mother Teresa said: “A smile is the beginning of peace.”

In an interview, the Japanese Nobel Laureate (Literature) said of his own people: “We Japanese are facing a crisis. We are a people without hope.” Izumi and Mina are missionaries in their own milieu. They are instruments of Christ’s light, joy and hope. CM Columban Fr. Barry Cairns lives and works in Japan.

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The Day-to-Day Details Are Meaningful

D

uring my first year in the seminary, there was an emphasis on learning to relate deeply with oneself, with others, and with God. While there was some academic study, there was no written assignment. Instead, there were opportunities to reflect on personal habits, engage in group reflection exercises, and practice different forms of prayer. I learned that prayer is a way to grow in relationship with God, and that my way of relating with God mirrors my way of relating with others. By the end of that year, I felt that I had gained a deep understanding of prayer.

During my second year, while prayer remained important, there was a greater emphasis on academic studies. Furthermore, I became involved in various activities, especially college theater.

As the year progressed, however, it became difficult to balance the various demands on my time and energy. Then things went from bad to

From the Director

By Fr. Tim Mulroy worse when a fellow student who had agreed to do carpentry work for the stage set of an upcoming performance reneged on his commitment.

With just three weeks until the opening night, there were few options available to remedy the crisis. A friend and I – both of whom had only rudimentary carpentry skills – set to work. Every free moment between classes we spent in the workshop, building the stage set. Thanks to our good fortune, rather than our skills as tradesmen, the stage set was completed just in time for the opening night. During those weeks, however,

Twenty-five years later, I frequently remind myself that my prayer will remain shallow unless I believe that Jesus is truly interested in every aspect of my daily life. while my friend and I had attended daily Mass and community prayer, we had devoted no time to quiet, personal prayer.

A few days after the performance ended, I had an appointment with my spiritual director.

However, I decided to ask her to postpone our meeting since I felt that I had nothing to talk about regarding prayer. She immediately inquired as to why my life was so busy. When I told her about the carpentry work, she asked if I had talked to Jesus about it. “No, he wouldn’t be interested,” was my immediate response. With a puzzled look on her face, she inquired, “Do you think not? …

What did He do for several years before becoming a missionary?”

I was dumbfounded. It felt like I had been hit by a hammer on the head! Then, it dawned on me: Jesus understood different kinds of timber, worked with various tools, had become a skilled craftsman … and met His Father daily in the workshop.

Twenty-five years later, I frequently remind myself that my prayer will remain shallow unless I believe that Jesus is truly interested in every aspect of my daily life.

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