December
2003
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How I escaped
Communist Vietnam
to become a priest
By Bob Horning | Photography by James Luning
 Sy
Van Kim knew he wanted to be a priest when
he was in fifth grade. After all, six
cousins were priests, and 10 first and second cousins were nuns.
But when the Communists took over South Vietnam on April 30, 1975,
and closed the seminaries, they also closed his opportunity to become
a priest – at least in his own country. A long detour to the
priesthood began that included his escape from the country and a
return visit 23 years later.
Many people had been fleeing the country as the likelihood of
defeat to the North became more certain. Kim, eight relatives,
and others began planning their own getaway in 1977. About two million
eventually left the country before and after the conflict. The process
was lengthy and secret, because, as Fr. Kim says, “It was not
easy to share with others since they may be the government’s
ears. We had to study very carefully whom we could share our idea
with, or whom to invite to be part of our group.”
For example, when Kim heard that a classmate, Quan Long Nguyen,
was building a boat, he stopped by to investigate. “After conversations
and testing each other, we agreed to work together and plan the
trip,” Fr. Kim recalls. Nguyen would be the captain of the
boat and his cousin the assistant.
A little trickery was also necessary. Nguyen and some of the others
pretended to be fishermen so the authorities wouldn’t be suspicious
of them or the boat. They also made friends with people who were
close to the coast guard and policemen. “These friends could
do some dirty work for us,” Fr. Kim says. “They would
invite the coast guard and policemen to parties, weddings, even
funeral dinners. Then, while they were at the parties, you could
sneak out of the country.”
 It
was in the middle of the night, March 19, 1979, when Kim’s
group of 69 made their break in a small wooden boat, 33 feet long
and 10 feet wide. They faced the prospect of being thrown in
jail if they were caught. They also faced danger from pirates, who
were prevalent then, since they knew that anyone escaping must have
money or gold to pay their way out of the country.
For fear of the coast guard at Phu Quoc Island, they headed out
to international waters, southeast of Vung Tay Bay. Then they went
southwest towards Malaysia. “We were so excited when we saw
a ship which was on the way to the Philippines, or Hong Kong or
Taiwan,” Fr. Kim recalls. “Even though the ship was a
few miles distant, we shouted loudly and burned oil in order to
send an SOS smoke signal. We hoped the ship’s crew would see
and rescue us, but our efforts were in vain. You can imagine our
disappointment.”
Their boat had only a two-cylinder engine, smaller than that
of an automobile, and they traveled for nearly a week. Eventually,
they neared their destination, only to be intercepted by the Malaysian
coast guard. They were detained for 18 hours on an island, then
pulled back out into international waters.
All this time they could barely move on the boat. “We
were seated like sardines are arranged in a fish can,” says
Fr. Kim. “Almost everyone got seasick, including me. I’m
sure we prayed a lot.” He adds jokingly, “If our journey
to Malaysia had taken a month on the Pacific Ocean, with all of
our praying, we would have become living saints.”
They decided that there was only one thing to do. “Because
of the rough waves, we couldn’t stay out in international waters,”
Fr. Kim says. “And we weren’t going to give up on the
new life of freedom we were looking for. So we ran into Malaysia
again. In order to make sure the coast guard could not pull us out
into international waters a second time, we ran our boat aground
and destroyed the engine with salt water and sand, and also destroyed
the hull of the boat.”
 “When
we landed, we were relieved. Our anxiety was replaced with joy and
happiness because we were still alive, we had our freedom and we
were going to settle in a free country.”
In Malaysia, they joined a refugee camp of 40,000 people in a
one square-mile area. Their shelter was a hut made of coconut
leaves. There, Kim went to Mass during the day, studied, and chopped
and sold wood to supplement the daily ration of rice. After a month,
they were transferred to Kuala Lumpur, the nation’s capitol.
There were only volunteer jobs available at the refugee camp in
Kuala Lumpur. Kim helped senior citizens who had no relatives there,
by getting food and water rations for them from the United Nations
organization running the camp.
After nine months, they were able to leave Malaysia and fly to New
Orleans, thanks to Kim’s uncle who lived there and sponsored
their entry into the United States. They landed in America on
Dec. 12, 1979. While adjusting to the American culture and language,
Kim worked on shrimp and oyster boats, and in restaurants opening
oysters for customers. But he hadn’t abandoned his hopes and
plans of becoming a priest.
Later he heard that Fr. Joseph Tran was in Lansing. Fr. Tran
had been the associate priest in Kim’s parish in Vietnam after
his ordination in 1974, and now serves as the pastor for the Vietnamese
community at St. Andrew Dung-Lac Parish in Lansing. He encouraged
Kim to come to Michigan to study for the priesthood. Even though
everyone advised him against going north because of the cold weather,
he did anyway. Now, he can say, “After living in Michigan over
20 years, I love it, even if I have to adjust my genes in the winter.”
He began seminary at St. John’s in Plymouth, Mich., studying
there three years before his final year at Sacred Heart in Detroit.
On June 9, 1990, 11 years after fleeing his country, Joseph Sy Kim
– the name he took upon becoming a U.S. citizen –
was ordained a priest by Bishop Kenneth Povish at St. Mary Cathedral
in Lansing.
Fr. Kim describes his ordination as “the result of a deep,
insistent longing that would not be stopped by the many roadblocks
that I encountered. I also truly believe that being forced to
wait this length of time for the fulfillment of my dream has helped
me to be more grateful for my vocation.” Fr. Kim has served
several parishes in the Lansing Diocese, and he has been pastor
of Blessed Sacrament Church in Burton for more than three years.
Return to Vietnam
 Last
summer, Fr. Kim returned to Vietnam for a three-week visit.
Going along were two parishioners, Ray and Gail Fielder, another
boat person named John St. Joseph, Fr. Kim’s uncle, two of
his uncle’s daughters, and a friend of one daughter.
“I started to think about returning to Vietnam about two
years before I actually went,” he explains. “I wanted
to see my mother’s grave and my relatives on my mother’s
side in North Vietnam, whom I had never seen.” Fr. Kim was
born in North Vietnam, but his parents moved to the South when he
was five months old. His mother died in 1969, and his father, who
is 85, now lives in California with some of his family. “I
also wanted to experience the life of the North Vietnamese, see
how things have changed in the country since I left and see what
I could do for those who haven’t had the same opportunity I
have had.”
There were a couple side benefits to going. It allowed Fr.
Kim to carry money to his relatives from the Kim family in the States.
He was also able to take a suitcase of medication for Dong Vinh
Parish in Bien Hoa on behalf of the Blessed Sacrament Parish Nurse
Ministry, as well as two suitcases of clothes for people in North
Vietnam.
The highlight of the trip was the celebration of Fr. Kim’s
12th year of ordination. It was made extra special because the
Mass and festivities took place at the church where he was baptized
– St. Peter An-Cuong Church in Nam-Dinh City, about 90 miles
southwest of Hanoi. A band, along with six to seven hundred people,
many in festive dress, went in procession to the mission church.
After Mass, there was a party in the dinner hall, in which a large
banner with a photo of Fr. Kim celebrating his first Mass hung on
one wall.
He also was able to celebrate Mass at the church where he received
first Communion and was confirmed. The Fielders say the trip
seemed to be party after party, as everywhere they went the people
wanted to honor Fr. Kim. “There was so much I wanted to see,”
Fr. Kim says. “I was happy to meet my uncles, aunts and other
relatives, but wished I had had more time with them and with parishioners.”
 The
thing that Fr. Kim says has changed most since he left is the economic
boom in the cities. “There is still a big gap between rich
and poor, and a lot of corruption,” he explains. “One
regret was not being able to help my own people, who are so poor,
especially in the countryside. I couldn’t forget one couple
who fished in the small creek. The man sat on the wooden skiff and
controlled the fishing net while the woman on the bank pulled the
skiff by a rope, because they didn’t have money for a motor.
The unemployment rate in the countryside is about 20-30 percent,
and those who do have jobs earn only $40-50 a month.”
Fr. Kim says that even though the people live in poverty, they
still preserve time for Mass and Church activities. “They
don’t trade their faith for material things. Everyone, young
and old, goes to celebrate Mass and receive the sacraments, especially
penance. The church is packed even though the temperature may be
90-100 degrees (no air conditioning). And though the people don’t
have money to give to the church, they do have time and energy.
Whenever the pastor needs something done, they do it without questioning.”
He also says that there are abundant vocations in the country now,
though the Church in Vietnam needs permission to ordain priests
and bishops, and to assign personnel.
Would Fr. Kim return to his homeland permanently? “If I
were directed by the bishop for some reason, of course,” he
says. “But I like America and its freedom. It would be difficult
to adjust to the Vietnamese culture after so long in America.”
Three Impressions
of Vietnam
 John
St. Joseph, who had escaped from Vietnam in 1975 at the age of 11,
went with Fr. Kim’s group last summer to visit Vietnam.
Upon reaching the countryside, he wondered to himself what had been
going on the last 28 years. “There was no change, no progress,”
he says. “Poverty was still rampant. The entrepreneurial activity
of the big cities and the time of peace had not affected the rural
areas.”
One thing St. Joseph was impressed with was the faith of the Catholics.
“Despite being under communist, atheist rule, the people
have maintained, practiced and passed on the faith to their children,”
he reports. “That’s especially noteworthy in the North,
which has been communist since World War II.”
He says that most Catholic families have a shrine in a prominent
place in their living room, so you can’t miss it. “They
are not afraid to show that they are Catholic, even though being
a Communist Party member is necessary for getting ahead in Vietnam.
They put their faith before material things.” He also notes
that all of the Catholic churches are full, and that they are trying
to raise funds to build more. “They are big churches, too –
about the size of our cathedrals,” he says.
St. Joseph, who lives in Grand Blanc, was affected enough by the
trip that he wants to return often to Vietnam to help out, and plans
to live there when he retires so that he can teach and do charitable
work.
Ray and Gail Fielder are members of Blessed Sacrament Parish
in Burton. For Ray, the journey reinforced in him the desire
to live out Catholic social teaching. He declares, “We need
to get out of our comfort zone and go to the poor. Vietnam is where
Jesus would be. We can see poverty in the U.S. and hide from it;
but there you can’t escape it since it is everywhere.”
Ray notes that his parish is in the initial stages of a relationship
with a parish in Vietnam that will enable Blessed Sacrament to provide
medical supplies and other aid to their poorer brothers and sisters.
Bringing a closure to the Vietnam War was an important part
of the trip for Gail. “I have carried guilt and remorse about
the destruction wrought on a gentle people and their beautiful country.
Many conversations with Fr. Joe regarding his feelings about the
American presence in Vietnam were helpful. Then the people who we
met on the trip had a huge effect. They were warm and welcoming,
and made Ray and me feel comfortable. We were never left with a
feeling that we were outsiders. On the contrary, they went out of
their way to include us in everything.”
The Fielders did their part to spread good will, too. Many times
they passed out lollipops and bubble gum to the children. “To
them it was a luxury,” according to Ray and Gail. “They
loved it, and we would spend time with them teaching them how to
blow bubbles."
Another time at a Mekong Delta fruit farm, the Fielders showed
a picture of their grandchildren to the owners. “They wouldn’t
let us go until they had that picture,” Ray recalls. “We
couldn’t understand why they would want a picture of some strangers’
grandchildren. But when we gave it to them, they kissed it and hung
it on their wall.”
ministry focus:
The Vietnamese Community
 After
the U.S. pulled out of Vietnam and the communist North Vietnamese
invaded the South, a refugee crisis began. By 1975, parishes
in the Diocese of Lansing stood up and began sponsoring the refugees.
Catholic Vietnamese in Lansing initially gathered for Mass in
the crypt chapel of St. Mary Cathedral. They also used a house
across the street from the Cathedral parking lot. In 1984, Bishop
Kenneth Povish began celebrating Mass with the community every Christmas
Eve, a tradition Bishop Carl Mengeling continues. The Lunar New
Year is the other unique holiday the community celebrates –
usually at the end of January or beginning of February.
In 1998, Bishop Mengeling created a parish for the diocese’s
growing
Vietnamese community -- St. Andrew Dung-Lac. The 160-family
parish is
located on Lansing’s south side.
Fr. Joseph Tran is the parish’s first pastor. Ordained
in 1974 for the Archdiocese of Saigon, Fr. Joseph came to Grandville,
Mich., in 1981 after spending a year in a refugee camp in Thailand.
He is one of several men from Vietnam who have overcome great adversity
to serve our diocese as a priest. In 1986, Fr. Vincent H. Van Doan
became the first Vietnamese man to be ordained for our diocese.
For more information on the Vietnamese community in the Diocese
of Lansing, contact St. Andrew Dung-Lac Parish (517) 882-8205.
How this family escaped death
in Rwanda
The Kanakuze family, Rwandans now living in
Lansing,
describe the solace they found in God
By Cate Preston | Photography by Thomas Gennara
 Few
can imagine being chased, day and night, by a faceless monster.
Yet, this kind of anxiety was quite real to the Kanakuze family,
natives of Rwanda who fled their country in 1994. Now living in
Lansing, the family takes a moment to share the nightmare that has
receded to the outskirts of their minds, as they have found refuge
in Christ’s love.
Although civil war ravaged parts of their country, it was distant
enough to disguise how critical matters truly were. Then, seemingly
overnight, tensions culminated and the war spread to the Kanakuzes’
hometown in Rwanda, a country in central Africa. “I didn’t
realize the extent of the war, how it was going to be,” shares
Berthilde, wife of Michel and mother of seven: Francine, Michelle,
Noelle, Leontine, Joseph, John Baptiste and Gabriel. “One day,
we were told to stop going to the grocery store, stop going to church,
or we would be killed,” Berthilde says.
In a matter of days, the community fled, seeking refuge elsewhere,
only to be killed along the way. Soon, only those who were sick
or elderly – and the Kanakuze family – remained. Having
no transportation, the family was confined to their home. Living
minute to minute, the family waited, never knowing what would be
next. “We had no choice. We had to stay. We couldn’t escape,”
explains Francine. “I would pray, ‘Please, Mary. Tie my
clothes to yours, so that I will be with you, so that I will not
be afraid.’”
Everywhere, masked men were killing civilians, forbidding them
to exercise their faith or leave their homes. The consequence
for prayer was death. “We asked, ‘How can we stop praying?’
We decided to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet, because we knew how
powerful it is,” Michelle, now 24, relates.
 The
family prayed to die quickly – with guns, not machetes. “We
were waiting to die. We would pray for a peaceful death – to
pass the bridge peacefully, to be strong,” remembers Berthilde.
The family found solace in prayer, interceding for those around
them. A sequence of miracles, including a number of encounters with
“good Samaritans,” then began to occur as they ultimately
fled to freedom,
On one occasion, attackers circled the perimeter of the house, wearing
masks and with weapons in hand, seemingly eager to kill. Inside,
the family prayed, holding their rosaries, asking God for strength.
“At the last second, a man came, a man we didn’t know,”
Berthilde recalls. “He said, ‘Stop, I know this family.
Go somewhere else.’ The men in masks listened to him, and left.
Another time, Michel was being taken away. Again, a man appeared
and said, ‘Why are you taking him? He’s my friend.’
Michel was then freed. We didn’t know these men, but they knew
us. Our angels, we say. It was Divine Mercy.”
From there, their means to freedom was unexpected – another
miracle in the guise of luck. A neighbor woman, terminally ill,
saw Michel and Berthilde. She beseeched them to take the children
away. In desperation, the woman offered her car, which was broken
down and had no key. They decided to try a key, which didn’t
even belong with the car. To every one’s amazement, it worked.
There was no time to think – the car was running and ready
to go. A Bible, some rosaries and food were hurriedly collected,
and within minutes, the family left their home.
Francine, now 25, remembers the day her family left. “On the
street, everyone was running. It was daylight, but in my memories,
I picture the sky dark, like it was going to rain.”
Once out of town, the car broke down. The family turned again to
the Divine Mercy chaplet, and to the Bible, for direction. Michel
would often pray by opening the Bible and reading the first passage
he saw. By the guidance he received in this way, Michel led his
family safely out of Rwanda. Once, as the family stopped to rest,
Michel turned to a passage in the book of Genesis, in which the
Lord tells Abraham to flee his country. Immediately, the Kanakuzes
pressed onward. Later, they found out that those who stayed to rest
were murdered. “The Bible’s not just stories,” says
Francine. “It’s God’s message. It spoke to us. It
would help us to find water, food, safety.”
 Always,
there was an internal fear urging the family onward. Surrounded
by turmoil, the family continued to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet
at three o’clock – the hour of Jesus’ death –
and would invite others to join. “People would question us
about why we continued to pray,” shares Berthilde. “They
saw that we had no money, no food. But, then they would see these
miracles, and they, too, would pray. Our angels were protecting
us – somehow, when we needed food, we would find food.”
Often, this food was only grass, or raw grain straight from the
stalk. “We mixed grain with hot water,” Michelle recounts.
“There was no taste. We just ate because it was in front of
us and because we were hungry.”
En route to the Rwandan border, the family was separated from
each other several times. One day, as they moved onward toward
Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo), the younger children
were part of an entourage escorted by nuns. Berthilde travelled
with the older children by boat. Michel remained behind, as the
boat was too crowded.
Each time they faced separation, the family chose to trust God,
knowing they might never see each other alive again. “In this
situation, you have no choice,” Berthilde says. “You have
to trust. We learned to trust, to listen, to suffer. God doesn’t
give you a cross you cannot carry.”
Reunited at last in Zaire, the family petitioned the Scouts, an
international organization that provides aid for refugees. Through
a priest friend of theirs, the Kanakuzes were given money for plane
tickets, and the necessary papers to go to Senegal. It was in Senegal,
one month after arriving, that Gabriel was born. “It was a
miracle he was healthy,” Berthilde explains. During the pregnancy,
she experienced many graces. “I wouldn’t eat, and would
give my portion to the children. I hid it from my husband, so he
wouldn’t know I was giving my food away. There simply wasn’t
enough food. I wasn’t sick, either. (When I was pregnant with
the other children) I was homebound, needing the doctor’s care.”
After three years, unable to find jobs or food in Senegal, they
applied to Refugee Services for admission to the United States.
By divine providence, they were the first refugee family selected
for emigration and, in 1997, made their journey to freedom.
Berthilde laughs when she recounts the divine hand in her family’s
transport from country to country. “In our hurry to leave
home, we forgot our passports. Imagine – no passports for nine
people. But, at every border, we were allowed to pass through. ‘Oh,
a family of nine? OK, go ahead,’ we were told.”
 Rather
than view themselves as victims of persecution, the family recounts
their war experiences humbly, with God’s mercy foremost in
their minds. “What we went through shaped us,” says
Michelle. “We saw God’s mercy. If you trust Him, He’ll
do everything. We would nearly doubt it, and would have to remind
ourselves to trust. If we didn’t go through this, we wouldn’t
know God. If He loves you, He’ll give you suffering to bear,
to see how you’ll grow.”
In the six years that they’ve lived in the United States, they’ve
purchased a home, found jobs and learned English. Currently
members of St. Thomas Aquinas Parish, East Lansing, the children
attend Resurrection School in Lansing, Lansing Catholic Central
and are pursuing degrees at Washtenaw Community College.
While they encounter challenges in the United States, their
faith continues to be central to the lives of the Kanakuze family.
They continue to pray the Divine Mercy chaplet each day and, on
Saturday mornings, join a group outside a local abortion clinic
to pray the rosary. “We keep praying as a family,” says
Berthilde. “I ask the children, ‘How did you meet God
today?’ ‘How did you see Him in your life today?’
Every day, you see something with Him in it.”
When living in Rwanda – a largely Catholic country –
the children would often stop in the church and pray the rosary
before heading home from school. Also, their family would celebrate
saints’ days rather than birthdays, which was a common tradition
in Rwanda. The first time Michelle heard someone say, “I don’t
believe in God,” she was surprised. “He’s inside
of you,” she says. “He’s alive. He’s with us.
The miracles continue. We see miracles every day – not just
during the war.”
Reflecting on secular America, Berthilde says, “It’s a
rich country. People have businesses, cars, video games. It’s
God who gives you that. But, it’s for the earth. It doesn’t
stay.” Saddened to see many who are distracted by worldly concerns,
she says, “God calls us and often, no one answers. Even if
I’m tired, I have to answer, because He asks me to make time
with Him. I won’t forget what He did for us. Every day, I make
time for Him. Eucharistic adoration is my favorite time to be with
Him. He is my joy, my everything.”
The prayer of St. Francis, which was often sung for comfort along
their journey, defines the family’s faith objective. The
Kanakuzes strive to be an instrument of Christ’s peace –
sowing hope, faith and consolation in the lives of those they encounter.
ministry focus:
Catholic Refugee Services of Lansing
For the past 20 years Refugee Services has helped more than 13,000
people make the transition to their adoptive country –
beginning with when they step off the plane. If you are interested
in volunteering to help refugees with learning English, transportation,
obtaining clothes and other necessities, contact the Volunteer Coordinator
at Refugee Services: (517) 484-1010.
Escaping the terror in the
Holy Land
Meet this Catholic family caught between two
religions in Bethlehem – now they’re in Michigan
By Nancy Schertzing | Photography by Thomas Gennara
 “That
night some shepherds were in the fields outside the village guarding
their flocks of sheep. Suddenly an angel appeared among them
and the landscape shone bright with the glory of the Lord. They
were badly frightened, but the angel reassured them.”
‘Don’t be afraid!’ he said. ‘I bring you
the most joyful news ever announced and it is for everyone. The
Savior – yes, the Messiah, the Lord – has been born tonight
in Bethlehem!’ ...
Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others praising
God: ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,’ they sang,
‘and peace on earth for all those pleasing him.’”
(Luke 2: 8-14)
This beautiful nativity story has resonated throughout the ages.
The idea of heaven and earth joined through a baby’s birth
and angels’ song must have inspired wonder in those shepherds
2,000 years ago. Lying in that field alight with the glory of God,
the shepherds must have believed anything was possible and that
peace would soon blanket their conflict-ridden homeland.
Two thousand years later, on April 4, 2001, Yvonne Shomali lay her
children down to sleep in her parents’ Bethlehem home. They
lived in a district called Beit Sahour – the Shepherds’
Field. Though she lived on the same landscape where angels had once
trod, Yvonne’s thoughts were not on the angels’ visit
of long ago, but on the constant tension that gripped her family’s
home.
 As
Palestinian Christians, Yvonne and her family were caught in the
middle of an ancient and terrible battle, more powerful even than
angels’ songs. Their neighbors, Palestinian Muslims, were
fighting a guerrilla war against the Israeli army in the neighborhood
where Yvonne’s children were growing up. Considered the enemy
because they are Palestinian, Yvonne’s family was often subject
to interrogations and violence from Israeli soldiers patrolling
the streets. Considered suspect by their neighbors because they
chose to stay neutral in the fight over the Jewish and Muslim homeland,
Yvonne’s Christian family was often harassed and ostracized
by their Palestinian community.
The night of April 4 brought their situation into sharp focus when
gunfire erupted outside Yvonne’s parents’ home. Despite
her father’s pleading with the shooters to move away from his
house where his grandchildren slept, Palestinian gunmen used Yvonne’s
parents’ home for their cover as they fired at the Israeli
Army post nearby. In an instant, the Shepherds’ Field shone
brightly again. This time, however, instead of the glory of God,
it was the fury of pitched battle that lit up the Beit Sahour sky.
As the Israeli soldiers fired back, bullets screamed through
the walls of the house from all sides. Yvonne’s father grabbed
two of her children and crawled along the floor with them into the
bathroom. There he lay them flat on the bathtub floor and used his
own body to cover them from the bullets still penetrating the walls.
From the dining room where she had found cover, Yvonne could
hear the cries of her other two children ripped from sleep by bullets
and shouting. Trapped in their beds by the gunfire, they sobbed
for her and prayed, “God, help us get out of this war!”
Each time she moved toward the hallway to rescue her sons, a fresh
round of shooting forced Yvonne back to her place of cover. Finally,
after half an hour of terror and prayer, she reached the bedroom
and dragged her sons to the relative safety of the bathtub. There
she and her father lay over her children – all unharmed –
until the gunfight ended at 3 a.m.
They used what was left of the night to pack. By 5 a.m. that morning,
Yvonne kissed her mother goodbye. She and her father set out with
her children through the Valley of Hell, a steep and winding road
that links Bethlehem with Jericho. They carried little more than
the clothes on their backs and a belief that life would be better
if they left Bethlehem behind. From Jericho they journeyed to Jordan.
Three days later they kissed Yvonne’s father goodbye and boarded
an airplane for the United States.
 Yvonne’s
husband, Bassam (Sam) had left Bethlehem in December 2000, to prepare
a place for his family in the U.S. He chose Lansing, Mich.,
as the best place to welcome his family home. On April 8, four days
after their harrowing escape from the Shepherds’ Field, Yvonne
and her children stepped off the plane into the welcoming arms of
Sam and a new life.
As a tour guide in Israel, Sam had made a good living until the
Second Intifada led Israel to close its borders to Palestinians.
He and Yvonne left behind a spacious home and many comforts when
they departed Bethlehem. Now, despite the fact that Sam is fluent
in five languages, they found themselves jobless in a new country.
Having come here on a visitor’s visa, Sam and Yvonne immediately
applied for religious and political asylum and set about making
the U.S. their new home.
Sam found work in his brother-in-law’s convenience store in
Flint, and started earning his certification as a computer technician.
Their first days here tested their endurance as they quickly went
through what little money they had. Having come with few of their
belongings, they had little for establishing a home. At one point
Yvonne confided to her neighbor that her children had gone three
days without food. The neighbor immediately gave her a number to
call for government assistance, which has allowed the Shomalis to
live without the fear of hunger.
Yet, when asked how life here compares with their life in Bethlehem,
Yvonne smiles widely. “I had money in Palestine,” she
says, “but I was not happy. Here I don’t have money for
clothes or much, but there is more freedom for women and families.
Muslim traditions are strict about social standing and interactions.
Here, thinking is much more liberating and our neighbors are more
honest.” Her smile fades slightly. “There, having more
friends gets one into more trouble. I came here to get safe.”
 On
May 7, 2003, the Shomalis were granted religious and political asylum
in the United States. They no longer have to fear being forced
to return to the terror they fled that April night. In time, they
hope to earn U.S. citizenship. When they do, maybe then they will
return to Bethlehem for a visit. “I want to go to Israel as
an American,” Sam explains. “Because visitors can go anywhere
they want, but Palestinians cannot.”
“I feel so sorry about my country,” Yvonne adds. “Where
Jesus lived and grew up, there is no peace. War constantly starts
and stops, but never ends.”
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,” the angels sang,
“and peace on earth for all those pleasing him.” Though
their homeland is wracked by violence, the Shomalis still hope in
the angels’ song. But until the promised peace blankets the
Shepherds’ Field, Yvonne and Sam will rest secure and raise
their children in their adopted home.
Catholic Relief Services:
For 60 years, Catholic Relief Services has been the outreach of
the U.S. Bishops to provide direct aid to the poor and disadvantaged
throughout the world. For more information on the CRS office in
the Diocese of Lansing call Barbara Pott at (517) 342-2470 or log
onto: home.catholicweb.com/crslansing
nativity sets
Collecting crèches can be a cultural,
artistic, and religious experience.
By Patricia Majher | Photography by James Luning
 I’ve
always been a bit boastful about my family’s nativity set.
Made of sturdy wood with an antique finish, it not only features
the traditional manger area but a crenellated tower with a music
box that plays “Silent Night.” That musical feature, along
with a host of animal figurines to arrange and rearrange in the
straw, gave me no end of entertainment as a child.
But I must admit the nativity sets at the neighboring Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints put our set to shame.
Each year, on the first weekend of December, this Mormon congregation
exhibits an extraordinary collection of nativity scenes (also known
by the French word for crib, crèche) gathered from around
the world. In 2003, more than 900 examples will be on display, representing
100 countries from Argentina to Zimbabwe.
The first thing you’ll notice when you stroll around the exhibit
is that each country interprets the nativity scene in its own way.
This is most obvious in the kinds of materials used to make the
figurines: ebony for African crèches, for example, or brightly
colored tin for those crafted in Mexico.
You can also expect to find variations reflecting the climate of
the country of origin. Palm trees are common in tropical crèches.
In contrast, a nativity set crafted by an Inuit artisan has all
the characters dressed in animal skins and the baby Jesus lying
on a sled.
As for animals, an ox, an ass and a couple of sheep might be
all that are featured in your family’s crèche. But look
closely at the Mormon exhibit, and you can find everything from
an aardvark to a yak paying homage to the baby Jesus. My personal
favorite was a fish – on land!
Collecting crèches
as a hobby
 Thinking
about starting your own collection of crèches? Settle
upon a collecting theme as your first step. One criterion could
be the country the sets come from; Italy is especially noted for
the craftsmanship of its crèches. After all, St. Francis
of Assisi popularized the idea! (See below.) Or you could focus
on the material used to create the sets, such as metal, ceramic
or fabric, or natural materials like wood, cornhusks and reeds.
Another theme possibility? Choose either traditional, realistic
renderings of the nativity scene or more modern interpretations
with fewer figurines, simpler lines and a muted color palette.
What about broadening the definition of your collection beyond freestanding
figurine sets? Think wall hangings, Christmas ornaments and even
snow globes incorporating the nativity scene.
One final thought? Go with the tried and true: crèches
from collectibles companies such as Precious Moments, Hummel and
Lenox. Fontanini, an Italian manufacturer, also produces limited-edition
polymer sets that are highly coveted by collectors.
For more ideas on how to collect nativity sets, contact the Friends
of the Crèche – a collectors’ society –
through The Marian Library Web site at www.udayton.edu/mary/gallery/creches.html.
Francis of Assisi
and the Christmas Crèche
 Donald
Spoto, author of a new biography of St. Francis titled “Reluctant
Saint,” tells us that the founder of the Franciscans played
a major part in popularizing the tradition of the crèche.
In 1223, Spoto says, Francis traveled south of Assisi to Greccio
to celebrate Christmas with some of his friars. For midnight Mass,
he asked that livestock be brought in and placed next to a local
husband and wife with their infant, who stood in for the Holy Family.
And friars were enlisted to represent the magi and shepherds.
The high point of this tableau vivant or liturgical drama was
when Francis preached on the humility of God’s entrance into
time, in the form of a helpless infant of humble origins.
The crèche was already part of the holiday customs at
cathedrals in Rome and elsewhere. Spoto concludes that, although
Francis didn’t ‘invent’ the crèche, “He
took the event out of the past and linked it to the present –
not only by using ordinary people in ordinary places and in their
own garb, but by linking the birth of Jesus to the present mystery
of God’s drawing near in the liturgy.”
Christmas in a Nutshell - Exhibit
of International Nativities
at the Museums of the Pope John Paul II Cultural Center
Washington, DC - A nativity the size of a walnut and almost 200
others bedazzle visitors to the extraordinary Third Annual International
Nativity Exhibit at the Museums at the Pope John Paul II Cultural
Center. Nativities representing every inhabited continent are
on view beginning November 21. Joy to the World: the Third Annual
International Nativity Exhibit is sure to intrigue visitors of all
ages. The exhibit runs through January 25, 2004.
The nativities on display come from the extensive collections of
Reverend Monsignor Adam S. McClosky, Reverend James H. Profota and
James L. and Emilia Govan.
Reverend Profota, pastor of St. Basil Parish in Eastpointe, Mich.,
has been collecting nativities since he was a child. He has
graciously donated his collection of almost 300 crèches from
all over the world to the Cultural Center with the intention that
they spread the joy of Christmas to many visitors in the years to
come. Pieces from his collection on display include several pyramid
candle nativities from Germany and Italy and an Alaskan crèche
in which Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus in Inuit garb sit in front
of their igloo accompanied by a wolf and a moose.
Reverend Monsignor McClosky, pastor of All Saint's Catholic
Church in Houston, Texas and a Cultural Center trustee, began collecting
nativities in 1965, concentrating on miniatures. The very first
nativity in his collection, a delicate wood carving from Germany,
is on display, along with the Costa Rican Nativity in a Walnut with
the Holy Family nestled in a hollowed-out walnut shell and another
with the figures resting inside a small bird's egg. Other miniatures
from his collection include a tiny silver filigree globe from Italy
and a nativity on a kitchen timer.
Mr. Govan and his late wife Emilia amassed a collection of more
than 300 nativities from nearly 80 countries through extensive international
travels and research. Mr. Govan, who is president and co-founder
of the national Friends of the Crèche society, continues
collecting today by commissioning artists around the world to create
nativities that reflect their local cultures. This is the third
year that Govan Collection nativities are represented in this exhibit.
Magnificent examples from the Govan collection include an intricately
detailed nativity from Singapore made from the ground powder of
Malaysia's wild cinnamon trees. The kings are based on classical
Chinese figures representing ancient dynasties while Mary resembles
the Taoist Goddess of Mercy. A Cambodian nativity, in which the
figures are depicted in the Khmer style, was exquisitely crafted
by six physically challenged carvers, disabled by landmines or polio.
And visitors are sure to be moved by the elongated forms of a redwood
crèche, carved by Liberian artisans, which underscores the
grace and solemnity of Christmas.
The Museums at the Pope John Paul II Cultural Center are open
Tuesday through Sunday. Admission and parking are free. Donations
are accepted. For more information, please call 202-635-5400 or
visit www.jp2cc.org.
The Museums at the Pope John Paul II Cultural Center provide a dynamic
environment in which visitors of all ages and denominations engage
in an intriguing exploration of faith and culture. Through technology,
art exhibitions and cultural programs, visitors explore spirituality
and culture, learn about the faith of others and engage in inspirational
activities designed to put their faith into action in their everyday
lives.
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