Mission Magazine Summer 2023

20 21
Editor’s
Note
The first week of March, I had the opportunity to be in India, traveling all
over the country together with Monsignor Kieran Harrington, journalist Barb
Fraze, who wrote some incredible stories for OSV, and Katie Ruvalcaba, a
young mother of five who has a natural talent with words, whom you can
see in the picture above. I decided to give her my column in this MISSION
Magazine edition because her thoughts are too good not to be included.
Before doing so, however, I do want to personally thank each and every one
of you for the support, positive feedback and generosity to the last number of
MISSION Magazine, honoring late Pope Benedict XVI. You inspire me to want
to go out and find stories to share with the amazing family that is The Pontifical
Mission Societies. Thank you for being part of our family.
In Katie’s words:
Since I became a Catholic with a firm understanding of what the Eucharist is,
I’ve prayed for Christ to help me recognize Him better than I recognize my own
reflection. I’ve prayed to see Him in the host, in the better moms who make me
feel inadequate, in the people I disagree with politically, in my enemies and in
my friends. This spring, while visiting the mission territories throughout India
with The Pontifical Mission Societies, I saw Christ in so many faces I simply
lost count.
I saw Christ in a little girl named Rivisti. Rivisti is about a year old, super
cute in her yellow dress with red flowers. She was at church with her grandma
and her two older sisters. While the grown-ups were focused on what was
being said by the very important Monsignor in our midst, Rivisti was making
a break down the center of the church and towards the rickety back door. Her
big sister, who couldn’t have been more than 6 years old herself, ran after her.
Rivisti’s feet barely left the ground as her sister dragged her back to their seat
next to their grandmother. Rivisiti’s family and community had gathered to
meet us not to talk about their poverty or sadness, but to tell us of their need for
a church. We could see blue sky through holes in the roof, and the tile floor was
uneven. I heard Christ speak through the mouth of Rivisti’s neighbors: “When
we have a church, we are together. When we have a church, we are safe.”
Later, in Kerala, I saw Christ lying in a hospice bed. The woman’s eyes were
clouded over with cataracts, and there were no teeth left in her mouth. She
bowed to me while laying on her side and started crying when I took her hands
in mine. I didn’t speak her language, but her nurse told me she was saying,
“No one ever comes to see me.” I did not get a chance to learn her name. She
didn’t even know it anymore; it had been stolen by dementia. It didn’t matter
though; I could see in her face that she was Christ. The nurse had the love of
Christ pouring from her as she walked from bed to bed in the mission hospice
facility where she ministered to each face of Christ, regardless of their ability
to pay.
In each place I visited I was able to see Christ so clearly. This was something
I’d prayed for, and I can tell you without hesitation that once you’ve seen
Christ you cannot unsee Him. Every hand I held I prayed for God’s protection
over that person. Every church I visited I asked God to show me how to give
them the funds they needed. I returned home and begged my pastor to allow
me to speak on World Mission Sunday (the third Sunday of October). If people
could only know that Christ is sitting on the floor in Chennai, they’d donate. If
everyone could see Christ serving the dying in Kerala, they’d pray. Once you
realize that each of these people in the mission fields is Christ, the very people
he came to bring to Himself and become one with, it’s impossible to look away.
So, my friends, pray with me. Donate with me. I’ve seen Him. He’s in the
missions.