Madonna - November/December 2008

Gabriel Lamug-Naãwa sj

I didn’t expect to get scarred in Cambodia. When I was missioned to Cambodia during our ordination to the priesthood nearly four years ago, an event that brought both tears of joy and anxiety to my parents, a number of people warned me about landmines and other dangers. Young and eager as I was back then, I didn’t think much of their words of warning. Now, I do find scars on my body, true gifts from Cambodia, for which I am most grateful to God.

Until recent years, Cambodia had the highest number of landmine accidents in the whole world, averaging around two to three explosions a day, every day. Within Cambodia, the province with the highest number of landmine accidents is Battambang. That is where we live. Although the number of incidents has fortunately gone down because of demining efforts and greater awareness of the people, our team from the Arrupe Welcome Center would go out to the villages every day to seek out victims of mines and war, mothers, fathers, children with a disability, finding different ways of helping them.

The scars on my feet and legs remind me of this. We would ride motorbikes to the villages, along unpaved dirt roads that are dusty and slippery during the dry season and muddy and slippery during the wet. I have fallen off the motorbike several times, into ditches and muddy potholes, leaving scars that remind me of our team and their dedicated efforts to reach out to those whose very bodies, lives and families have been broken by war.

A longer scar is on my belly. It took three operations within five months in two countries to put it there. It was due to an internal infection that I acquired because of my participation in the Passion play for Holy Week. But more than anything, this scar reminds me of a Buddhist lady who approached me on that Good Friday. She had begun to attend catechism classes at the parish. She came and asked if she could wash my feet. Sensing the purity of her intentions, we sat by a corner in the house. As she was washing my feet, just before the dramatisation of Christ’s passion and death, she started to cry and spontaneously told me things she had done that weighed heavily upon her. As she finished she calmly said, ‘Please take all these with you to the cross.’ I was deeply moved. This Buddhist lady’s action had touched my own faith and has ever since been a source of grace and inspiration for me. The scar on my belly will forever remind me of people’s faith that continuously strive to find God in different contexts.

Leaving Cambodia has not been easy. They are a simple people, with basic needs and uncomplicated relationships, and as of now still undistracted by the ‘noise’ of consumerism. The people of Battambang, and the staff and students with disabilities of the Arrupe Welcome Center have all been wonderful. Simply to be in their presence was truly a humanising experience. Those with whom I worked were fantastic, mostly Buddhists, some former Khmer Rouge soldiers and supporters, and many of them have been my heroes and models for generosity and loving kindness. Their ways of doing things and of dealing with other people have challenged me to be a better priest.

Having to leave all this behind has etched my third scar. Though not visible, I know it is there, for it reminds me of its existence every time I remember Cambodia.

In Cambodia, there is a growing devotion to an image of Christ on the cross with only one leg. More than just a scar or a wound, Christ is missing a leg. Although some may call it irreverent tampering with a holy image, it is a meaningful icon that speaks to the people of Christ’s compassion and fearless love.

In gratitude for the wounds that others have borne for us, may our own scars be out of love for God and for God’s people.

Scars from Cambodia - Teresa Pirola

Reflections from a newly-ordained priest

Gabriel Lamug-Naãwa sj