slum kids -4th of July: Independence Day
7 July 2023
Dear Everybody – Our Mercy Family,
Thought these days I’d best tell you a bit about myself, as I celebrate being a priest and saying my first Mass 58 years ago. Something I never do. First, I’m sending you a picture of my beloved country church. My first Mass in Athol, South Dakota.
My most beloved St. Mary’s Catholic Church in the small town of Athol, where I said my first Mass 58 years ago – a wooden church, seated 40 people. Built by my Irish ancestors. Now gone, as the farming town of Athol is now almost deserted, down to about 30 people and they recently closed the post office. Small farming is no longer profitable. The railroads are long ago built.
I’m also sending a picture of me, a few years later, joyful, after my Redemptorist congregation had assigned me here to Thailand. A picture of my first “home” here in the slums of Klong Toey, part of the slaughter house. We were literally avoided by “proper” society, outcast Catholics, because they lived with and butchered the pigs.
This is where we lived and where we began our first Catholic kindergarten in an un-used pig pen. Me, living with the Catholic population. Outcasts to all, but to speak of that in a moment. Mosquito nets and dirt floors and a portion of rice nightly near the door to keep the rats happy. And nasty feral cats – the dogs ran from the cats.
We had Holy Mass in a “make-shift” chapel under the railway bridge. That’s why I went there; the Catholics had no church, no sacraments, no priests, no schools. The children of the slaughter house had no opportunity to go to school.
So, Sr. Maria and I humbly asked permission from our slaughter house Catholics, may we come and teach your children. Start immediately. We have no money, no building. Teach right here, out in the open. Just in this open pig pen, a couple of umbrellas against the sun and rain. Bring your own rice to eat. Moms can come too. Everyone is welcome. Teach everyone to read and write, to pray. The gangsters like the idea too. They also wanted their own children to learn to read and write.
True, no one trusted us. But they said, “Give it a try with this crazy foreign priest who speaks broken Thai that we can almost understand if he repeats himself”.
And so, it’s been for some 50 years. Slum communities come. “Priest - would you and Sister Maria come and teach in our slum also”. They tell us, “You are safe”, our kids want to learn how to write their names.
50 years since we quietly went to war. Have done so for these 50 glorious years in Klong Toey and the slaughter house. And our kids – over 50, 000 (literally) of them have learned to hold these lethal weapons: pointed sticks which we call pencils. We are winning. Have never lost a battle. Never had a slum community say: “We don’t want you”. Never.
Nothing on the planet can stop our slum kids – once they learn how to hold those pointed sticks in their hands – pointed sticks we call pencils – and now computers and phones.
True, there’s always extra room in every classroom. Sit on the floor. Who cares. Come to school. You don’t have shoes. Who cares. Come to school. Every kid we meet on the street or in a slum alleyway, come to school. But I don’t have any money… and we say …. Who cares. I don’t want to hear that kind of talk…. Stop it.
I tell all the kids. “Hey, I got some friends. They went to school a long time ago. They will help buy shoes, and school stuff”. Come to school and they will help. They always have, and I know they always will.
We teach them, it’s okay. Come and meet our mob of kids, but take off your shoes as you come into their classroom – bow your head slightly at the sacred shrine. You can’t go wrong: there is a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus alongside the statue of the Buddha. Why? Because we of Mercy Centre are a Religious House. Because the classroom is an extension of the temple/church. The children’s classroom is where Mary, the Mother of Jesus lives. Where the Buddha lives and watches over our kids… your kids… our sharpened stick warriors
.
Finally – yes, much has changed in these years since I said my first Mass 58 years ago. No longer wearing a young man’s clothing, I walk slower now, and the children are parents and grandparents and their children attend our schools. The six-year-olds correct my broken Thai and sometimes giggle. But they say they love me, Grandpa Joe and I believe them. Our Ms. Usanee is now Executive Director and in charge, and that is good. WE need you all to walk beside us and our children. Yes, I might stumble, but never fall. You – all of you – are always there to catch me, to catch our children – to teach them to read and write and pray.
Blessings - Fr. Joe and all of us and our children
Thought these days I’d best tell you a bit about myself, as I celebrate being a priest and saying my first Mass 58 years ago. Something I never do. First, I’m sending you a picture of my beloved country church. My first Mass in Athol, South Dakota.
My most beloved St. Mary’s Catholic Church in the small town of Athol, where I said my first Mass 58 years ago – a wooden church, seated 40 people. Built by my Irish ancestors. Now gone, as the farming town of Athol is now almost deserted, down to about 30 people and they recently closed the post office. Small farming is no longer profitable. The railroads are long ago built.
I’m also sending a picture of me, a few years later, joyful, after my Redemptorist congregation had assigned me here to Thailand. A picture of my first “home” here in the slums of Klong Toey, part of the slaughter house. We were literally avoided by “proper” society, outcast Catholics, because they lived with and butchered the pigs.
This is where we lived and where we began our first Catholic kindergarten in an un-used pig pen. Me, living with the Catholic population. Outcasts to all, but to speak of that in a moment. Mosquito nets and dirt floors and a portion of rice nightly near the door to keep the rats happy. And nasty feral cats – the dogs ran from the cats.
We had Holy Mass in a “make-shift” chapel under the railway bridge. That’s why I went there; the Catholics had no church, no sacraments, no priests, no schools. The children of the slaughter house had no opportunity to go to school.
So, Sr. Maria and I humbly asked permission from our slaughter house Catholics, may we come and teach your children. Start immediately. We have no money, no building. Teach right here, out in the open. Just in this open pig pen, a couple of umbrellas against the sun and rain. Bring your own rice to eat. Moms can come too. Everyone is welcome. Teach everyone to read and write, to pray. The gangsters like the idea too. They also wanted their own children to learn to read and write.
True, no one trusted us. But they said, “Give it a try with this crazy foreign priest who speaks broken Thai that we can almost understand if he repeats himself”.
And so, it’s been for some 50 years. Slum communities come. “Priest - would you and Sister Maria come and teach in our slum also”. They tell us, “You are safe”, our kids want to learn how to write their names.
50 years since we quietly went to war. Have done so for these 50 glorious years in Klong Toey and the slaughter house. And our kids – over 50, 000 (literally) of them have learned to hold these lethal weapons: pointed sticks which we call pencils. We are winning. Have never lost a battle. Never had a slum community say: “We don’t want you”. Never.
Nothing on the planet can stop our slum kids – once they learn how to hold those pointed sticks in their hands – pointed sticks we call pencils – and now computers and phones.
True, there’s always extra room in every classroom. Sit on the floor. Who cares. Come to school. You don’t have shoes. Who cares. Come to school. Every kid we meet on the street or in a slum alleyway, come to school. But I don’t have any money… and we say …. Who cares. I don’t want to hear that kind of talk…. Stop it.
I tell all the kids. “Hey, I got some friends. They went to school a long time ago. They will help buy shoes, and school stuff”. Come to school and they will help. They always have, and I know they always will.
We teach them, it’s okay. Come and meet our mob of kids, but take off your shoes as you come into their classroom – bow your head slightly at the sacred shrine. You can’t go wrong: there is a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus alongside the statue of the Buddha. Why? Because we of Mercy Centre are a Religious House. Because the classroom is an extension of the temple/church. The children’s classroom is where Mary, the Mother of Jesus lives. Where the Buddha lives and watches over our kids… your kids… our sharpened stick warriors
.
Finally – yes, much has changed in these years since I said my first Mass 58 years ago. No longer wearing a young man’s clothing, I walk slower now, and the children are parents and grandparents and their children attend our schools. The six-year-olds correct my broken Thai and sometimes giggle. But they say they love me, Grandpa Joe and I believe them. Our Ms. Usanee is now Executive Director and in charge, and that is good. WE need you all to walk beside us and our children. Yes, I might stumble, but never fall. You – all of you – are always there to catch me, to catch our children – to teach them to read and write and pray.
Blessings - Fr. Joe and all of us and our children
