Daily Reflection, October 18, 2024

Reflection:

Only Luke is with me. I find that such a powerful statement. At the end of his life, nearing his execution, he is writing to Timothy, a young man who is like a son to him. And in the midst of his reflecting on all the harm to him, that has been done and what is yet to be done, he simply says, But the Lord stood by me and gave me strength.

Nothing beats the power of presence.

I have just completed three months in Indonesia, teaching English to our Passionist students.

I have mentioned here before that I find the Indonesian people incredibly friendly. It is a predominantly Muslim country, comprising approximately 87% of population. For a people who are vilified in so many parts of the world, including our own country, they return those feelings with love and generosity a hundred times over.

Occasionally I would go out from the house to do some sightseeing or shopping or just going for a spin. They would always ask two questions. “Where are you going,” to which I would invariably reply, “jalan jalan” (which means, just around, nowhere specific).

The second question would always follow “who are you going with?” Mostly I was just heading out by myself. They would find this answer incredulous: No one is going with you? And nearly always, someone would volunteer to go with me. The idea that anyone would travel alone was almost anathema to them. I would usually decline the offer, since I was just going to get some fresh air, and so they would follow with “hati hati” (be careful).

As I thought about this, it became apparent, not just through these questions, but other experiences, that who they were travelling with, was just as important as where they were going.

This companionship would often be experienced when I was jalan jalan. I might be having a coffee or similar, sitting on my own, and invariably someone would come up to me, and have a chat. Mostly male, of course, being in Muslim territory. Once I was sitting, having lunch outside a convenience store, and the four young lads on the next table, turned their chairs around to include me in their circle. It is just a beautiful warm experience, which happened time and time again.

When I was on Flores, I received a call from Fr Budi, one of our Indonesian priests. He has spent time in Melbourne at our language school, and is now working in our mission in Vanimo, PNG. He asked me if I would visit his father. His father lived in Koting, his house was near the church, and he included a photo of the Church. I chatted to his sister, on WhatsApp, of course none of them could speak English, but I gleaned a few bits of information and made arrangements.

So Sunday lunch, I got on the bike, and headed off. I put Koting into google maps, and after about half an hour, arrived. There are no road names out there, no numbers on the gate, so I thought I would look for the church and go from there. I couldn’t find a church at first, but kept riding and eventually I found it. I messaged Clarita that I was at the church.

No answer, so I thought I would ride the bike slowly around the houses and they would see me. This bloke sees me, right next door to the church, yells out “makan siang?” (lunch) I thought, beautiful, I’m here, how easy was that. He showed me to the seating area, which was the two graves out the front with some roofing. I presumed Budi’s mum has passed away, so that was one grave, and another of a young woman. Clarita had told me that her husband worked at Larantuka, where I had landed by plane. So I presume this guy is Clarita’s husband. Anyway, some fish comes out, some rice, and we are having a lovely chat. I pointed to the grave to my left, and said, “Budi’s mum?” He says, “no, Bapa (Father).” Ok, already I’m confused. I asked about the young woman, in the other grave, she was about 19, he mentioned something which translated as headache, which had killed her. Anyway, I was starting to feel that maybe I’m at the wrong place. I asked the guy; did he work at Larantuka? Yes, he drives a truck . that’s better. I mentioned Fr Budi, nothing but blank stares back. They had never even heard of the Passionists. Though they did understand that I was a priest. Then I get a message, from Clarita, where are you?

After about twenty minutes of simple dining and friendly chat, I realised I definitely was at the wrong place. They had no idea who I was, but that didn’t deter them from offering lunch to someone who was travelling on their own. Needless to say, I offered my profound apologies, they didn’t seem to care. They had had the opportunity to offer hospitality to a stranger on the road.

After the laughter and the apologies, I thought I better get to the right place. I showed them the photo of the church that Budi had sent. Oh, Koting, that’s in Koting. I said, This is  Koting. No, he said, this is Nelle. Google maps had sent me to the wrong place.

Needless to say, that didn’t stop their hospitality to someone they didn’t even know.

Eventually, I did find my way to meet Budi’s dad, and we enjoyed afternoon tea.

Nothing beats the power of presence. Of actually being with someone, no matter what. Of sharing what simple gifts we have, taking risks to be hospitable, to accepting someone without having to know their story.

Indonesia is a wonderful country with beautiful people.

Peter Gardiner is a Passionist Priest.