Missionaries of the Sacred

May 12, 1991 dawned clear and warm. It was a nice start to what was going to be a big day for the diocese of Kavieng in Papua New Guinea: the ordination of Ambrose Kiapseni MSC as bishop of his home diocese. He would be the third bishop of the diocese, but the first Papua New Guinean bishop.

Some friends and I were on the local golf course at 6:30 that morning, and we already met trucks coming into Kavieng town, trucks filled to a capacity that only a fellow missionary would understand. I wanted to get some exercise early, so that my ankle would feel better later. I knew that the ordination liturgy would be a long one and would involve a lot of standing, and that aggravates the arthritis in my ankle.

By 8:30 we had finished nine holes, showered, and left for the cathedral. People had been gathering since early morning. Later estimates put the crowd at about five thousand. While everyone was still milling around and waiting for things to start, I took a few photographs, said hello to a lot of old friends, and chatted with some of our MSC Sisters from Rabaul and Port Moresby.

A tavur (conch shell) blew to signal that things were about to start. We all gathered around the banis (enclosure built of dried palm fronds), the commentator said a few words of introduction, and then the drums began inside the banis. The singing began at something like a low hum and increased gradually in volume and speed. As the singing increased in intensity, first one side of the enclosure began to shake, then another, then another. One side fell, then the other three -- it was as if the sides of a gigantic cardboard box collapsed outwards. And there in the middle sat Ambrose Kiapseni, looking cool and relaxed.

The drums stopped one rhythm and began another, one to walk and dance to. The drummers and singers began a stylized movement toward the cathedral, followed by the concelebrants and the consecrating bishops and Ambrose, and then the throng of people in a typical PNG (Papua New Guinea) style procession. Formless as it may have appeared to some overseas visitors' eyes, the clear awe and wonder on the young children's faces showed that something special was going on. I could feel a sense of anticipation all around.

As we all danced and moved toward the entrance of the cathedral, I made sure that I was near the front of the line -- so that I would be able to see the ceremony and so that I could get at the end of a pew and not get boxed in. Different parishes from among the twenty in the diocese led the singing for the different parts of the liturgy, providing a real sense of the variety of liturgical styles within the diocese.  I enjoyed it all.

During the ordination ceremony, what stands out in memory even now is the affirmation expressed in twenty different languages by representatives from each parish. I felt a special thrill when the man from Bipi spoke his "Wura!" (loosely, "Oh yes!"). And I felt a different, deeper thrill when it was my turn to impose hands on Ambrose's head. My friend, my bishop . . . and I was given the honor of imposing my hands over him. The glow remained when he later shared the sign of peace, giving me a wink.

Much of the rest of the liturgy and ceremony is fading now from memory. I remember the long instruction mainly because of the discomfort of standing for so long during it. When we came out of the cathedral, almost four hours had passed, but it did not feel that long. The experience of that ordination liturgy is one I treasure.

Fr. Tony Ripp, MSC served in Papua New Guinea from 1968 to 1992.

He spent about nine years serving the people of Manus (Papitalai, Bundralis, Bipi) and almost 15 years serving the people of New Ireland (Lamasong, Mongop, Manga-Siar, Fissoa).

As a young priest, I got my desire to be a missionary in PNG (Papua New Guinea) after a year at the seminary in Geneva, IL. At the age of 30, I got my wish to journey to Papua New Guinea – 14,000 miles away from the USA. On my way there I got a blister on my left heel playing “footy” Aussie football in Sidney, Australia. In Rabaul, New Britain it turned into a tropical ulcer. I landed in the Catholic hospital at Vunapope. Lesson to be learned: Take care of your sores from the knee down in the wonderful tropics!

Fr. Earl Henley, MSC served in Papua New Guinea for 23 years (1971-1994). After arriving, he spent six months traveling around the diocese learning how to be a pastor and the Melanesian Pidgin English from the capable hands of Fr. Peter Vavro, MSC (Pastor at Tanga), Fr. Tom Bursn, MSC (Pastor at Lihir) and Fr. Tony Ripp, MSC (Pastor at Bundralis, Manus). Fr. Earl then served as pastor at Anir Island from 1972 to 1975, and then as pastor at Lorengau, Manus from 1975 to 1985. He was appointed Coordinator of the Pastoral Plan for the Diocese from 1988-1992. In 1992, he became the Director for the Catechist Training Center (CTC) Fissoa, where he served until 1994.

One aspect learned as a missionary was the ability to use inculturation of their customs/songs/dress and instruments into the Mass over the years that we worked there. Fr. Bernard Jakubco and Fr. Tom Keller were those early pioneers. Being proud of their language and various customs and finally taking ownership were as transforming for us as missionaries as for our people. In May of 1991, I wrote from my Journal:

L - Love of God and Love of Others

I -  Identity, we are special in God's eyes

T - Tremendous Trust in God's Faithfulness

U - Union with the People

R - Response is our way of saying thanks

G - Graciousness, Graces and Source of Life

Y - Yeast of inner Growth

 

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Fr. Earl Henley, MSC served in Papua New Guinea for 23 years (1971-1994).

Photo information: Stations of the Cross. One of the stops (stations) in a Good Friday devotion that consists of a several mile hike along the main road through Vunapope carrying that cross and stopping at fourteen different places to hear about the passion of Jesus, meditate on it, and enter into it. Hundreds of people make the hike and the police open one lane of the road for it. — in . (Photo by Br. Joe Tesar, MSC)

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Part II

During our first trip to the Western Islands we carried Reverend Martin Kopunek, who would look after the spiritual needs of the Western Island people. He was the first priest to land on the Ninigo Islands (which are part of the Western Islands). Later, over time, several priests came along to help Father Kopunek in his work of evangelizing the people.  Father Vincent Freeh, one of the priests helping Father Kopunek, sang American songs and played them on the guitar. The local people, in turn, learned the songs played by Father Freeh and re-played them on a ukulele. They also used a tambourine-like instrument and taught Father Freeh some of their local songs. It is well-known that the people of Papua, New Guinea very quickly learned how to play the guitar.

We also transported boys and girls to school from the various islands in the area; the boys to school on New Ireland and the girls to school on Manus. On Manus Island the school kids came aboard for a tour of the ship Margaret; we gave them a tour of the ship, and they especially enjoyed going into the wheelhouse and turning the ship's wheel.

One time we got a local man to substitute-captain the ship while I was away on shipping business.  As they started out on their journey, the crew told him "This is not the course the Brother takes." He said "I am the captain and, therefore, you will do what I say." They got lost and were missing for two days before they finally made radio contact with one of the islands. They were told to keep going until they saw emergency lights, and were then directed to land.

The climate was tropical and warm, 80º or more.  The rainy season, known as the Northwest Season, would last for at least three months. During that time, the temperature would drop down to about 70º. There were also quite a few earthquakes, most of them not severe, and we learned of them through newspaper or radio. There was one severe quake, which caused a tsunami off the mainland.  There were also volcanic eruptions, which caused much devastation.

When the transport of mission supplies was turned over to commercial carriers, I began to teach vocational courses at the mission station school in Puas in the diocese of Kavieng, Island of New Ireland. These courses included English, Morse Code, a little bit of engine repair, a bit of math, weather science and basic navigation. I was also personally involved in the radio communication between mission stations,  assisted Father Bernie Miller at the parish of Milmila on Duke of York Island, and worked at Rakanda, a mission plantation where coconuts and cocoa are grown. I retired in 2006, living in Kavieng for a while before coming to the Sacred Heart Villa Community in Center Valley, PA.

Part I

At first I captained the ship Raskai, a small vessel in which we brought supplies to the various mission stations. As the work progressed, we began hauling timber (some of the pieces being more than 60 feet long) which was used to build hospitals, homes, schools, etc.  A larger vessel was required, and the M.V. Margaret, an 80 ft. sailing ship with a large hatch, was purchased.  The ship also had a 6 cylinder Grey Marine Engine, which was used most of the time, the canvas being used when the wind was favorable.  The people were fascinated by the ship Margaret, as they had never seen a sailing ship before.

Through my ministry with the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart in taking supplies to all the mission stations, I served different native populations of the many tribes in the area; there were many islands.  A supply run would usually last about three weeks. Supplies would be dropped off at the first island port and, if it was not too late in the day, we would continue on to the next island.  If the time grew late, however, we would stay overnight and be on our way first thing next morning.

Dolphins, whales, and sharks would often be seen on the journey.  I remember one time we were in very calm waters and stopped the ship so the crew members could take a swim;  the swim was over before it even started, as sharks began to circle the ship.

Before I was assigned to the missions, I had served for several years as the editor of our mission and family monthly magazine, Our Lady of the Sacred Heart.  On that account, I already had a working knowledge of the territory, of the people and of the missionaries assigned to what was then the Vicariate of Kavieng. My first opportunity to go to the South Seas came about when one of our priests took sick with a debilitating case of hepatitis and needed about nine months to recover his health. As that period of time came to a close, the mother of another missionary became terminally ill, so I was allowed to stay for another nine months to cover for his absence. I mention this to give you a certain perspective on my overall experience in the missions. I came as a substitute, to fill in as it were, with the understanding that in view of my return to the magazine my stay was to be on the order of a journalistic junket. That was a blessing in disguise. Having no projects to speak of, I had more concern for what I could learn than for what I might accomplish. Four years later, given the good fortune of an open-ended assignment to the missions, I returned with a high regard for the people, a deep awareness of their spiritual and material needs and a readiness to work for the betterment of their daily lives long before Pope Paul VI was to lay stress on the need for human development in his letter Populorum Progressio—on the progress of peoples.

My first-hand or working experience in Papua New Guinea came to only about ten years. However, it spanned the time from when the colonial era was just ending, on to the preparation for and the realization of self-government and into the early years of struggle to maintain the standards that had been achieved in health, education and primary development under a prevailing presence of law and order. Times have changed, and just as Africa held many lessons in what is known as missionary adaptation, Papua New Guinea adds a chapter or two in regard to the interaction or faith and culture.

When you consider the life of my catechist, you may appreciate the challenges that our early missionaries faced in what is now the Diocese of Kavieng. Matthew Tapo was in his mother’s womb when his father was killed in tribal warfare. He was almost a cannibal, stopped by his mother as he was about to put a piece of human flesh into his mouth. As the son of a chieftain, he had three wives. When he was baptized, he had to dismiss and see to the welfare of two of them. He had about a sixth-grade education and more wisdom than a PhD. He received a medal from Pope Pius XII through the Vicariate of Rabaul for his first 25 years of work as a catechist, and he stood up to verbal and physical abuse dealt to him by the followers of a cargo cult that broke out on the south coast after World War II. Among my lasting memories of Tapo is a patrol we made to his home village of Sohonerhiu. It took us from the coast up and down ridges, through sago palm swamps, across streams and rivers, along once heavily populated but now all but deserted ridges and up to a collection of huts with dirt floors, thatched roofs and split bamboo siding. On our way, Tapo was telling me how he has urged Fr. Borchardt to hide out in the bush when the occupying army reached the mission of Patu so he could continue to teach the people about the faith. Fr. Borchardt told him that if he were to do that, the occupying army would kill one villager a day until he came out of hiding. Tapo thought that would be fine, because it would teach the people how important their faith was. I was thinking that Tapo was into what is known as “Monday morning quarterbacking”—saying how the game should be played after it was over. At some point, Matthew realized that I hadn’t got his drift. He held up his long-fingered bony hand right in my face, with a look of astonishment on his own. Then he said this in Pidgin English: Pater man I no savvy kisim bilip; bilip I savvy kisim man. That means, “Father, a man cannot take possession of the faith; the faith must take possession of the man.”

As we see how many Catholics fall away from the practice of the faith, we need to take Matthew Tapo’s words.

Of all my cherished memories of Papua New Guinea, I guess I owe my best one to my parents. My dad's side of the family was Slovak while my mom's was Ukrainian Orthodox. Being raised in a family like that I was taught:

When I was on patrol in the back islands the people would wait till I finished supper and then sit on the "porch" of the little house reserved for the priest. This was their cue to drop by, sit down and visit with me. And we would tell stories. I remember one evening when I asked some of the old men in the village if they had any stories about the stars. They told me how they would navigate by the stars but stories... "No" they didn't.

Well, I said, we had stories about the stars. Do you see those three stars in a row and the three in a row near it? We call the first three stars the belt of Orion and the next three stars are his sword.  He was a great hunter and he is following his dog (over there) and they are chasing a bear (over there).

There was silence as the men considered this.

"Father, we do have a story. That is a canoe with three women in it and the next three stars is a shark chasing after them ...."

You have a story.

They have a story.

They do not laugh at your story.

You do not laugh at their story.

Each one shows respect for the other and each grows in appreciation of the other. Why, after a few years I, the new guy on the block, learned about the huge snake that lived in the middle of the island and would call to his mother the rain god and....

But that is a story for another day.

Fr. John Kavcak, MSC served in Papua New Guinea from 1982 to 1988. When he was on patrol in the back islands the people would drop by after dinner, sit down, visit with him and tell stories.

The article above tells of one of these stories.

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My first six months were on the mainland parish in Namatanai where I learned the language and customs of the people. After that it was all "island" parishes including Lihir Island group and Tanga Island group - a lot of island parishes for a guy who does not know how to swim.

My idea of being a missionary was "carrying the cross to distant shores." I found out I was mainly a pastor; in one place I was the pastor of four islands, 20 some out-stations, six or eight "primary schools," a vocational school, and a hospital. I was also the banker, the post master, and the guy who ran the largest "trade store" on the island. I was also responsible for coordinating the travels of the 40-foot mission boat as it took the nurses and sisters around the islands, gathered the children traveling to and from the islands to the school, and made the 40 some mile trip over the sea to get supplies and carry trade goods to the mainland.

When I was at the main mission station there was always something that needed to be done. It was when I was on patrol, especially to the back islands, that I felt like a pastor again. On patrol the big works were Mass, confessions, anointing the sick, blessing the graves of those who died, etc. At the main station the big works were fix the boat, order supplies for the store, run the bank, etc.

Fr. John Kavcak, MSC served in Papua New Guinea from 1982 to 1988. When he was on patrol in the back islands the people would drop by after dinner, sit down, visit with him and tell stories.

We invite you to read one of these stories by clicking the link: Stories About the Stars.

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The children here are looking at a christmas tree that dances with its branches and sings Jingle Bells.*  I bought it a few years before while on leave in the USA. It cost several time what I paid for it to ship it by air to get it in time for Christmas and to get through customs. At that time I was stationed at Kavieng on New Ireland.  I put it in my window so that all could see and hear it. (In the tropics all our windows were louvered.  We could open and shut them with ease. Screens kept the mosquitos out.)

This tree worked on batteries. Turn it on and it would dance and sing Jingle Bells. When it finished, clap your hands and it would start again.  At one time, when people were coming out after Mass there were about forty of them watching the tree perform.  The kids loved it.  They wore out three sets of batteries the first Christmas season.  The following July or August I heard a little girl playing near my room singing Jingle Bells.  I guess it was worth it after all.

*The picture was taken on New Britian a year or two after the tree first arrived. The building is the chapel for the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart Novitiate.  The tree didn't get the reaction here that it got on New Ireland.

Br. Joseph Tesar, MSC served in Papua New Guinea from 1989 to 2006. His final assignment was as spiritual director for Chanel, a minor seminary for young men who aspired to become priests and a few young sisters aspiring to get their high school diploma.