I met Raj, a Sri Lankan Hindu asylum seeker, about nine years ago at the the Solihull Welcome drop-in center for asylum seekers when I was attending the home office reporting center nearby. He and his family had just been evicted from their apartment and literally had nowhere to go.
I always enjoy returning to my home parish of St. Joseph's, New Plymouth, in New Zealand over the Christmas period. There is something refreshing and nourishing about going back to familiar places and meeting again with friends.
The preaching of Jesus and His compassion for the poor and the outcasts was at the heart of the Kingdom of God. He uplifted their human dignity and restored them in the "image and likeness of God."
If the Philippines have the Chocolate Hills in Bohol, here in the north of Chile we have mountains of "chocolates," no green trees, just all brown soil.
A faith born in the shadows cast by a single candle in a tightly curtained room of a small farming village in a China emerging from the repression of the Cultural Revolution in the early 1980s blossomed on February 4, 2018, in the chapel of the Columban seminary in Manila, Philippines, as Peter D
I first met Amy from the Philippines after she was brought to the Hope Workers' Center in Taiwan. The Center provides temporary shelter, assistance and counselling for exploited workers, victims of labor and/or sex trafficking.
Not long ago I dared to follow a so called "dream," a dream that became reality when one day I found myself in a place different from my home.
When I was ordained a deacon and later a priest, I worked with young people in one parish in the Philippines. One of my favorite places was the parish youth ministry office. There I was able to meet young people and listen to their stories — of struggles, hurts and rejections.
God is always leading us in every step of our journey. But there are times that we do not recognize His presence because of situations that separate us from Him. This is what I remember every time I find it difficult to understand the things happening in my life.
The next day was more adventurous. Fr. Nilton drove us to Navala, a traditional Catholic village in the mountains over Ba. We got to the bridge just outside the village at 9:30 a.m. A raging torrent kept us from driving over it.
As a teenager Ned Galvin enjoyed seeking out adventure with his friends. During one of their hunting escapades, he threw a lasso over a neighbor's cat that was darting across a roof and pulled him to the ground.
This year we recall with gratitude the living faith of Columbans and others that has shaped our individual journeys and that of our Society for our first 100 years of mission to the world. Individually, we celebrate our own journeys of striving to be missionary disciples of Jesus Christ.