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| 3 stories victim |
HAPPY
EASTER TO ALL OUR FRIENDS
Good Friday
Reflection and a Simple Easter Story
Christ
shares with us the agony of his heart
as we encounter his most vulnerable
friends
the blind, the lame, the deaf,
the child orphaned by AIDS,
the old, the friendless,
the refugee, the beggar.
We
hear Christ crying beneath the rubble in Iraq and Afghanistan
behind the
barricade
in Palestine
thirsting in the desert of Sudan
mourning as
the locusts devour the crops in Dubbo.
Where
did Christ share the agony
of his heart with you, this last month?
What
did you feel? How did you respond? Say to God?
What did God say to you?
Perhaps
you would like to share some of this with others.
*****************************************
A SIMPLE CAMBODIA EASTER STORY
Thida is nine. Trying to cover her legs with her skimpy sarong she sat there intently
listening to twelve other children telling the story of their accident with "explosive
remnants of war". They were sad stories and her eyes glistened with empathy.
But there was something about Thida. We began to talk and as she talked I noticed
a small foot protruding from just below the knee, possibly an effect of Agent
Orange. Perhaps we can ask the International Red Cross to make you a leg. Would
you like one? A vigorous nod.
After
the mine awareness ceremony we bumped the car along an unbelievable road to the
village looking for her mum. When we were nearly there two shining eyes were peering
out through the palm fronds. Running in her lopsided way, with one leg half as
long as the other, she had seen our vehicle enter her area
and followed.
Mom was not home but we left the address if they wanted to visit us in the next
province. Some days later Thida appeared again. Now she has an orthotic device
that helped her to walk, and returned home with shining eyes and heart. Thida
is a Buddhist and knows nothing about the Easter story but through her the resurrection
comes alive once again for us.
12 March:
Hidden in mind, heart and soil explosive remnants of
war lie throughout Cambodia. The weapons in the soil brought misery or death to
88 Cambodians in January alone. Yesterday a sixteen you old girl stepped on a
mine and is now missing a leg. Twenty years ago her father did the same thing.
These ashes of war in the earth are symbols of social sin; man's inhumanity to
othre women men and children. They represent too, the potential for greed and
power and hatred that can lie dormant in each of us waiting to explode; threat
within us that calls out for transformation.
The explosive remnants in
the hearts can also trigger revenge, bitterness and despair. However yesterday
I met Song Kosal lamed by a mine, now 20 years old, who has just returned from
Canada where she stirred Canadian youth to action for peace. Klieng Vann, another
" victim" runs a training center for disabled, Sokha charns with her
craft and mobile phone calling tourists to solidarity with the poor.
May Lent 2004 release the explosive remnants in our hearts so that the fire of
justice and flame of compassion shine forth from us and that the ashes of bitterness
and hate disappeas.
Sr.
DENISE
Lenten Reflection
" Whoever drinks of the
water that I shall give him will never thirst; the water that I shall give him
become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."(Jn 4:14)
After four years of working in Cambodia, my well had
run dry and empty. It seemed as if my daily interaction with people after Marginalized
and hurt by years of violence and deprivation left me with almost nothing. I left
so emotionally and physically tired. It was as if I had nothing to give anymore
not even a smile. The faces of villagers I met have become a burden, a yoke too
heavy for me to carry.
It was time to pause. I
had to struggle against my guilty thought that I was resting in comfort while
the poor are getting sick and hungry. But Still, what could I give if I myself
was empty?
I spent a few days sleeping in Luang
Prabang in Laos, far away from my work. Early one morning, I climbed up to the
middle section of Kung Si Falls. I was along there for four hours, soaking in
cool streams of water gently falling on rocks. It was only nature and me: water,
moss, forest, birds, and sky.
Suddenly I found myself bursting in a song
in praise of God. I felt deep joy and peace. As a gentle stream fall onto my body,
I felt like God was filling me up with so much energy and life. As my feet soaked
in the running water, i felt like I was being washed of everything unpleasant
with me.
It was a spiritual encounter, a graced
moment. God was healing me through the water. As I went down from the falls at
moon, I felt like my rest was complete. God, the source of living water, has filled
my well again-and has put back a smile on my face.
Fr.TOTET
Lenten
Reflection
"A bruised reed he will not
break..."
That was a sign on the side of an
NGO pick-up I saw along Monivong a few days back. It is from Isaiah 42:3, and
I have always been quite moved by the image. It is a powerful image of our compassionate
God, who came to serve and not be served. This image was foremost in my mind when
I met a Vietnamese asylum seeker this morning.
Her
refugee application had been rejected by the UNHCR, and she has been referred
to JRS on appeal. I reviewed her case and interviewed her, and have come to the
conclusion that the UNHCR decision is correct, and that there is nothing more
that, as a lawyer, I can do for her. With Sony translating for me, I tried to
explain to her that this was how the system works, and that many Vietnamese like
her are in truly unfortunate circumstances here in Cambodia, but sadly there is
not much that the refugee system can do for them. As I expected, she had a difficult
time comprehending this, and she repeatedly begged me do try to do something so
that she could still hold on to the UNHCR protection letter. Even while I sympathized
with her, I knew that I must fulfill the responsibilities of my position and stand
by the system, no matter how unpleasant it may be. And most unpleasant it certainly
was, breaking the news to a poor, weeping, 47-year-old mother of two.
Here was when Isaiah's servant image came once more to mind. The Vietnamese lady
had many questions that begged to be answered, but nothing I could say could possibly
assuage the fears she had in her hearts-of more suffering, of being arrested once
again, by the Cambodians, or by Vietnamese secret agents. So I sat there with
her and allowed her to ask as many questions as she felt she needed to ask, and
to let her feel somehow that I did care for her feelings, and that I was ready
to listen and to be with her, at the same time keeping firm to the duties imposed
by my position. As I looked at her weeping silently, I felt compassion in my heart,
and I imagined myself as that servant who would not break a bruised reed. I realized
that the more bruised the reed, the more gentle we should be.
After about an hour, she probably began to understand what Sony and I were trying
to tell her, and she stood up from the table and left quietly, with Sony by her
side, accompanying her. And I reflected about how we are all called to serve our
sisters and brothers in the same gentle way that the prophet Isaiah had foretold
about Jesus Christ. While I am sure it will often not be easy to be so gentle
and compassionate, I am also more sure now that I am capable of such a gentle
loving, and that with God's grace I, too, can serve as He came to serve.
Mr.Raymond
9 March:Map Meeting
5-7
March: Teachers Visit
In Cambodian villages, many people live in
extreme poverty and have no chance to travel to see the cultural wealth of our
country in Angkor Wat. They have only seen pictures and long to see the real thing
at least once in their lives.
5-7
March were wonderful days for 19 teachers and mobile librarians and the Metta
Karuna villlage team from Ponhear Leu. They left early in the morning from their
village in the south and travelled to see Angkor Wat, Bayon, many temples, Banteay
Srey, Phnom Kulen and Baray. They returned home gloriously happy with renewed
strength to teach the children who go to school under make shift thatch roofs
in their villages.
KANYA,
CHEATTA



