Once while home in Indiana after spending a number of years working as a pastor of a rural Tanzanian mission parish, I was invited to speak at St. Casimir's elementary school in Hammond. The students were assembled in the chapel according to classes with the first graders sitting in the front. The principal, Ms. Mary Jane Bartley, began by introducing me as a missionary from Africa. Then she asked the children, "Does anyone know what a missionary does?" After a few moments of silence, one of the smallest first grade girls bravely raised her hand and, when called upon, stood and declared, "A missionary is someone who teaches people that God loves them!" I don't think I could ever put it better myself.

During the past twenty years, I have experienced many challenges and many joys while living and working as an African missioner. There have been times when I felt like a stranger in a strange land, wondering what the people, who I've been sent to serve, are thinking or feeling -- so much remains a mystery. How can a university professor turn to a witchdoctor to ward off a curse? How can whole villages still take up collections to pay a rain-maker? How can a child's death -- caused by a charlatan "doctor" -- be accepted by the family and the charlatan allowed to continue his "practice" unchallenged? Fortunately, there have been far more occasions when I was privileged to share in the simple joys of people's lives. For example, I've shared in the happiness of hundreds of couples on their wedding days and rejoiced with thousands of people at their baptisms or the baptisms of their children.

Equally enjoyable have been the numerous little events of everyday life among the people of the Sukuma tribe in Shinyanga. An amusing incident comes to mind: a guest arrived at my house after walking fifteen miles from a distant village. I offered him a soda to drink, but I didn't have any cold bottles in my refrigerator so I added a few ice cubes to his glass. When I presented it to him, he looked at the glass for a while and then timidly asked, "Padre, what are those things that you put in my drink?" He'd never seen ice cubes before! After I explained, he was more than pleased. In fact, several years later I received a letter from the same man in which he mentioned how nice it had been when I put the ice cubes in his soda. Such unexpected events always bring a smile to my face.

On numerous other occasions, I have been awed by incredible acts of faith. Young people are told by their non-Christian parents that unless they work on Sunday they can't share the family's food. Even so, the young believers choose to go to church and be fed by the Eucharist each Sunday, going hungry the rest of the day. As a lived expression of their faith, I've seen people completely forgive someone who committed an injustice against them -- neither requesting nor expecting any compensation. In the face of unimaginable poverty and suffering, people are happy and filled with hope because of their faith in a loving God. In such situations, I just pray that the Good Lord is somehow using me to touch His people.

I was particularly moved on one occasion when a group of parishioners had gathered for a holy day celebration. A man stood up and announced that he wanted to make a little speech. Actually, he said that he wanted to express the community's thanks to me. "For what?", I asked. "For teaching us to love one another," he replied while others were nodding in agreement. I can only hope that it is true, and I thank God for letting me spend my life trying to teach people that He loves them.

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Maryknollers in Mwanza, Tanzania