A new chaplain in port
Fr Jack with seafarers on the Madame Butterfly which was in |
Fr Jack Padua is AOS port chaplain in Southampton on the south coast of England.
Originally from the Philippines, Fr Jack has been a diocesan priest in Manila and a missionary in Thailand. He has lived and served as a priest in the UK since 2005.
In February 2008, Fr Jack joined AOS GB. Here he shares his reflections of his first few months of life as a port chaplain.
WAVE AFTER WAVE, SHIP TO SHIP, STEP UPON STEP
Wave after wave after wave – this was the phrase that comes to my mind when I think of the life of seafarers at sea as they sail from port to port. Definitely, it is wave after wave after wave. Calm waves, big waves, lashing waves, life-threatening waves – all sorts of waves. Seafarers cannot avoid them nor can they choose the kind of waves that they encounter. They meet them head-on. In case of treacherous waves, seafarers find a way to manoeuvre through these waves and, in the process, find themselves in the safety of a cove or of a port.
What does this mean? Among other things, it means that seafarers are persons steeped in one of life’s basic lessons: that in this journey called 'Life', we need to face each wave, each problem, each day with steadfastness and, in the end, with trust. That while we wish for sunny days, moonlit nights and beautiful weather in our trips, there will always be moments when we need to travel during starless nights and stormy weather. Sail, we must, otherwise we will never reach our destination.
As one of the newest port chaplains of the Apostleship of the Sea, I realize that one of my pressing challenges is to make the port of Southampton a 'home away from home' for seafarers tossed by waves at sea and by problems back home. To accomplish this however, I need to move from ship to ship and, in each ship, climb the ladder or ramp step upon step. This way, I get to know the seafarers and their needs and, in the process, respond to these needs of theirs. Thank God for colleagues and volunteer ship visitors who accompany and guide me, meeting this formidable challenge these past weeks has been smooth.
My first month has indeed been like this: moving from ship to ship and climbing ladders or ramps in each ship. This task has been physically exhausting, in particular when I needed to visit not just one but four or five ships in one day. Surprisingly however, I always get energized – recharged, as it were – when I see seafarers break into a smile when they know that I am from the 'Stella Maris' or the Apostleship of the Sea. It is as if there is magic in the words 'Apostleship of the Sea'. It is as if 'Apostleship of the Sea' meant a long, lost friend that has suddenly and pleasantly materialized before their very eyes. It is as if 'Apostleship of the Sea' meant home'.
Fr Jack with seafarers from the X-press Monte Rosa after he had said Mass onboard |
Stella Maris, it struck me, certainly means 'light', the way 'stella' or 'star' gives light. Light to a person in darkness, as in an illuminating experience. Light to a person weighed down by problems and difficulties, as in an experience of liberation or of joy. I am humbled by the thought therefore that even as I listen to each person’s life story and concerns, I have become an instrument of 'lightness'. No wonder then that seafarers’ faces 'light up' when they hear me say 'I’m from Stella Maris'.
And the surprise is not just theirs! The privilege has also been mine. In one of my Masses onboard a ship, I met a high school classmate from Iloilo, Philippines whom I have not seen in decades. And, surprise of surprises, he was the captain of that ship. Indeed, the celebration of the Lord’s loving memorial has never been more meaningful as my friend and I later shared each other’s stories to make up for the years of separation.
Surprise after surprise after surprise – this, I am sure, is what awaits me in the days to come as AOS port chaplain in Southampton and regional co-ordinator for the southern region of England.