STORY - "Another Paul - a young man's journey to faith "

This story was told to me by a teacher who has been profoundly affected by hearing it first hand many years ago. I prevailed upon him to share it and hope that you too will be touched by it.

As the road winds up from the coastal area around Port Moresby to the southern regions of the Owen Stanley Ranges, it passes by the Rouna Falls and onto Iarrowari - a word that means “where the rivers meet”. Iarrowari is not far from the end of the Kokoda Track and was the site for the medical treatment of soldiers during the war years.

By the 1960s Iarowarri had become the site of a boarding school for boys in Years 7-10. The school was populated by students from a wide variety of tribal backgrounds – Mekeo, Goilala, Hanuabadans, Tuberserains, Chimbu, Hula and others. The policy sought to make secondary education available across as many regions as possible. In those early years, primary education was the maximum formal education for the vast majority of children and was village based. A student from the village primary school who gained a place in a secondary school was considered very fortunate; good news not just for the student, but for the village. There might be only one or two places allocated to the village school and the remainder of the Year 6 students would resume traditional roles in the village.

The subject of our story – Paul Umi – was the one to be chosen from his class of 1968 in the Mekeo region to go onto Iarrowari for secondary education.

Each Sunday, Mass was celebrated at Sogeri and Paul could be observed leading some ten students up the road to Mass. The confusion for the Iarowarri teacher who had become aware of the band of Mass-goers was that Paul was Mekeo and the Mekeo people were still very much in the traditional mould as regards religion. Furthermore, the Mass-goers were a cross-section of the tribes that made up the school’s population and some of these had been traditional enemies. Remarkably, the Mass-goers walked as one – obviously happy to be together.

The question was put to Paul, “How come you are a Catholic – your people are still very traditional and how does your band of followers come together?”

“Yes, my village is still in the old ways,” said Paul, and with obvious pride he added, “I am the only Catholic in my village. And the ones who come with me? I know who are Catholic and I go around the beds and I call them to follow me and they come. Yes, we are from different tribes, but we go to Mass as one.”

The teacher invited Paul to share his story…

As a young lad of about 12 or so years (no birth dates were kept), he loved to walk the long beach that stretched to the village of a neighbouring Yule Island tribe. On one such walk, he paused to rest under a building that was on stilts across the beachfront. In the room above, a teacher was telling the Jesus story to the young people. Paul stayed to listen. The teacher gave notice to his listeners that he would resume the story of Jesus next Sunday. Paul returned the next Sunday and for many Sundays – sitting under the stilted classroom, unobserved and quietly hearing the Story of Jesus. However, there came a day when passivity was to give way to action.

He explained – “Then the story came to that part when Jesus took bread and shared it and the wine and shared it with his friends – how do you call it?

“Eucharist?”

“Yes, that is it – Eucharist - Jesus comes into us. When I heard that, I stood up and took my courage in my hands and I went up the steps to the room and I said to the teacher - ‘You must make me like you are. I want a God who is in us, not like all our gods who live in the trees, the mountains and the jungle.’”

The teacher laughed and said, “I cannot make you one of us – you could not answer all the questions.”

“I took my courage in my hands again and I said, ‘Try me out!’

“He did. And I answered all the questions. So he said I could become one of them. After the water was poured, he said my name would be Paul.”

On completing Year 10, Paul secured employment in Port Moresby – the only member of his village to have access to a permanent wage. He renewed the connection with the Iarowarri teacher who was transferred to Port Moresby a year later. His connection to the Eucharist remained and on weekend visits to the teacher’s family the answer to the question – “Staying on for Mass, Paul?” was always “Yes”.

On one such occasion, he arrived on Friday afternoon –“Staying the night, Paul?” “Yes”. On Saturday, “Coming to the markets for shopping, Paul?” “Yes.” “Staying the night, Paul?” “Yes”. On Sunday, “Coming to Mass, Paul?” “Yes.”

Late that Sunday afternoon, Paul took a brochure from his pocket and asked – “Can you show me how to buy a truck for my village? I want my village to be able to come to the markets here in the town and sell their goods and make money and grow strong. I have saved many kinas.”

“Paul,” said his friend, “you came here on Friday to discuss this, and you have waited until now!”

His shoulders slumped forward, “You are strange people – you will never understand. I cannot just walk here and ask for something... I must sit with you and share with you and wait for the time to come.”

“Paul,” his friend said, “maybe you could teach me – you be the teacher - Paul.”

Paul smiled and simply shook his head. While this inherent graciousness was well lost on his friend, the friend was overwhelmed that this young man’s first use of his savings was to be his people, his tribe, his community and NOT himself! Perhaps it was so because Paul had been free to continue to be true to his Mekeo culture which had coexisted with his new found faith, enriching that faith and avoiding those cross-cultural conflicts that can confuse and obscure the individual’s experience of the Risen Lord.

Paul’s journey into matrimony provides a beautiful chapter for his story.
His faithful observance of the way his people went about his courtship of Oine would cause some moralists concern. Again, his friend failed to connect with the true meaning of a key feature of the story.

“Paul, about how much will the bride-price be for Oine?”

“You would say about 1200 kina,” Paul answered.

“Paul, you can just go and pay her village for her – you have about that in the bank.”

Paul looked at his host in utter dismay. It was as if he had heard an obscenity.
“I cannot do that. My village would be angry with me. My village will give Oine’s village all that her village should have for her. Then everyone will know that my village and her village have both said that we belong to each other – the way you say - we are married.”

When all the matters required to make the union of Paul and Oine valid in the eyes of both communities were completed, Paul said to this friend, “Now I want to have Oine and me do what you do – how do you call it?”

“You want to go before the priest and you want the church to say you are married – you want the Sacrament of Marriage.”

“Yes”, said Paul, “and then I will know that Jesus will know that I am married to Oine.”

A very beautiful and simple ceremony followed – a ceremony greatly enhanced by the wisdom and understanding of the celebrating priest and the company of those who understood how much this meant to Paul and Oine. Paul, the solitary Catholic of the Mekeo people, who came to Jesus through his hearing of the Word ...”He took bread – this is my body - take and eat. He took wine - this is my blood – take and drink.”

“Yes, that is what you must have – A God who lives within you. How do you say it?”

“Eucharist.”

“Yes, that is what is!”

2009 is the Year of Paul – and some of us believe that Paul of Tarsus would have been proud of the Paul of the Mekeo who reminded us that our Eucharistic Lord is indeed the source of all our faith, hope and love.

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