A Test of Faith

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My family lives in Fiji, a country comprising of more than three hundred islands. Its location in the south Pacific means that it is frequently in the pathway of hurricanes, which cause widespread destruction of property and injury to people. Three years ago one such hurricane hit Rabi, one of the small, remote islands on which my family lives. I was on vacation from the Columban seminary at that time and saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Many homes were flattened and all the crops destroyed. While most families had food in storage that would enable them to survive for ten days, there was great fear and anxiety as to what would happen after that, since the threat of famine was very real.

It was a source of great relief and hope then when a Columban priest, Donal McIlraith, who lived in the capital city, Suva, contacted my family. I knew Fr McIlraith well. Indeed, an encounter with him some years previously had prompted me to become a Columban missionary. Then, after I joined the Columban seminary program he was both my spiritual guide and professor.

When Fr McIlraith learned about the deteriorating conditions on my home island he immediately promised to bring food aid. He would, however, be in need of a boat to transport it, and so my brother-in-law, Tampa, who is a fisherman, agreed to go and assist him. We set off to meet him in our eighteen-foot long fishing boat, which was powered by an outboard engine. The sea was calm by then and so the journey to the other island took us just forty minutes.

Fr Donal McIllraith in the boat

When we arrived Fr McIlraith had already collected a large supply of basic rations such as canned fish, flour, bread, rice and sugar. These we loaded onto the boat and set out on our return journey. Fr McIlraith decided to come with us, for he knew that in addition to food, the people of Rabi were in need of someone to put new heart into them after their nightmarish ordeal.

Since the boat was weighed down with both the food and the crew, we had to steer it slowly and carefully. However, because of the weight, a half hour into our journey, the outboard engine slipped off its hook and into the water. Immediately, I dived after it and rescued it before it sank into the depths. Even so I was still too late, since its exposure to water had already damaged the ignition. We tried desperately to fix it, but it was all in vain.

As a consequence, we were now adrift. Our destination - Rabi Island - was visible in the distance but we had no means of steering ourselves in its direction. Instead we found ourselves heading towards a large reef, which we knew could smash our boat to pieces. In desperation, we tried again and again to re-start the engine but as the reef drew nearer and nearer we prepared to jump overboard and swim in order to avoid certain death. Just as we were about to do so, however, the engine sparked and gave a few brief puffs. This was all we needed in order to change the course of the boat so that instead of hitting the reef, we could get around it. Fortunately, the engine sparked for just those few minutes that enabled us to do that, then cut out again completely.

Night fell and we were still drifting, where to, we did not know! We decided therefore to drop anchor and wait for the daylight. Perhaps, the dawn would provide us with a ray of hope. Under the clear night sky we recited the rosary, meditating on the Mysteries of Light. Later we drifted off to sleep. We awoke to light rain and the realisation that we had indeed drifted in our sleep: our anchor had come undone in the night and was lost somewhere in the deep sea.
 
We too were in danger of becoming lost at sea for our boat was now being carried along by a powerful current and a strong wind, away from the islands and out into the open ocean. We had no place to shelter from the blazing sun or the spells of heavy rain, which beat down upon us without mercy. Fortunately, however, we were able to feast upon the supply of canned fish and bread which we had on board. But though we were surrounded by water, there was nothing that we could drink to quench our raging thirst.

As we drifted out into the great blue ocean, the islands behind us grew smaller and smaller. I felt helpless and frustrated. We had no way of contacting anyone and there was no possibility that any rescue team would be able to see our small boat on such an expanse of sea. Exhaustion and desperation seized me as the thoughts of impending death flashed across my mind.

Fr McIlraith, however, seemed unperturbed through all of this. He sat at the stern of the boat, his rosary beads in hand, praying continuously. I joined him, hoping sometimes to find a way to restore my hope, trying sometimes to distract myself from the awful fear that gripped me.

Later that day, the wind suddenly and miraculously changed direction. We were still drifting, but this time in the opposite direction. I was filled with amazement but was still so frightened that I dared not hope. As evening drew on the wind strengthened, but so did the rain. Then as darkness fell, the lights on the islands seemed to come closer and brighter. We continued praying the rosary. Even though all of us were hoping that our boat might be guided by the wind to a place where we could safely land, it seemed too presumptuous for any of us to actually say it out loud to each other.

That evening my brother-in law’s experience as a fisherman led him to realise that the wind had brought as close to land as we could possibly hope for, and that we would have to rely on our survival instinct to make it ashore. Just at that time, however, some of the islanders who worked along the coast had spotted our boat, sensed our dilemma, and came to help us bring it ashore. Even though they didn’t know us, they welcomed us warmly into their homes where we could finally relax, quench our thirst and heave a huge sigh of relief. Soon all of their neighbours gathered in to hear our story. Within a short time a welcome party was organised, made possible of course by the large supply of food which was still in our boat.

A few days later, having rested, celebrated and given thanks to God for our deliverance, we set sail again, knowing that the people of Rabi would be still waiting for us. This time we journeyed without incident and arrived safely. We still had about two thirds of our initial cargo left, enough for the people of Rabi to organise another joy-filled celebration for our homecoming!

Today, when I look back on that boat journey, I realise that it contains all the lessons I need for my vocation journey. As I continue with my preparation to be a Columban missionary, the desire within me to help those who are suffering grows stronger. However, when I try to respond to the needs of people around me I encounter many unexpected obstacles and fears, which at times discourage me from continuing with my vocation. Then I recall that my life - including my problems - are not my own, and that I should continue to surrender everything to God in prayer. God will surely lead me to my destination, most probably in unexpected ways!

Fr McIlraith is Taaremon’s seminary professor and spiritual guide.

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