I grew up on a farm in Co. Clare, Ireland, with four brothers and five sisters. We all did our share on the farm, helping out during the holidays. My brother John, who was five years older than me, joined the Columbans after school. When a Columban priest came to my school to give a talk on the Maynooth Mission to China, I understood John’s decision. I too decided to join. At the time I had never been outside Co. Clare. I was ordained in 1952 and set off for the Philippines on June 24, 1953, where I was assigned to the mountains of Candoni, one of the towns in the south of Negros Island. The only available transport at the time was by horseback.

Na yacamu? Na yacaqu, O Jinky mai, Philippines. What is your name? This is the common question I used to hear and the common answer I used to say every time I meet people in the village of Navatuyaba, Toga, in Rewa province Fiji where I am having my exposure for language and culture.

In the Gospel we hear how Jesus performed a miracle by saying to the paralyzed man, “Rise up and walk!” Today He continues to work the same miracle, maybe not directly, but through the intervention of people like us.

A good friend of mine, a religious Sister, served on the missions in Ethiopia during a terrible famine there. A year or two later she found herself back in the United States speaking to various groups, sometimes to Catholic schoolchildren, about her mission experience. She felt herself becoming angry when she would see the children emptying perfectly good sandwiches and fruits into the trash. She was smart and selfreflective and realized the kids had not seen the poverty and desperation she had seen, so she knew she had to work on her own feelings.

But, of course, as much as it may have been unfair to judge the kids harshly, she was not wrong about the issue of food. A few months back Pope Francis said that a negligent and selfish culture of food waste is fueling the global hunger crisis, damaging the lives of individuals and preventing the progress of all people.