A Columban priest reflects on how helping people fully live their faith motivates him.
By Fr. Peter V. Woodruff

A friend recently asked me what keeps me working as a Columban priest in Peru. I could offer the facile reply “missionary zeal,” but I think that such an answer misses the mark.

Most Columbans who have been appointed to the Peru mission since it began in 1952 stayed only for a short time. There are now 27 Columban priests in the Peru region, two of whom are Peruvian and five of whom are retired. At age 62, I am just over the average of 60.

Columban Father Peter Woodruff with workers and parishioners at the worksite of a new chapel in Lima.

Behind these statistics lie hidden so many stories of struggle, pain and suffering. Perhaps we tell some of our story to others; perhaps we write about them; perhaps we just do as Mary did—store up all these things in our hearts.

It all happened in the quest to make sense of life in this very different world that we came to as young priest missionaries. Perhaps a little of my own story might begin to answer my friend’s question.

Doing Things Of Value
When I first came to Peru in 1968, our average age was about 30 years. The Second Vatican Council had ended in 1965, and the Latin American Episcopal Conference had organized a meeting in Medellin, Colombia, to discern the application of Vatican II’s teaching to Latin America. Fidel Castro had led the Cuban revolution to victory in 1958, and left-wing political movements sought to correct the massive injustices that ground down millions of people in Latin America.

In society and the Catholic Church, there was fervor for radical change. We young missionaries were swept up into the enthusiasm and euphoria of the moment. The joy of it all, however, came with a heavy dose of confusion and personal chaos.

I remember one day, a year or two after taking up my first parish appointment, when I was walking down the street to a barrio to visit people with the idea of introducing myself and learning the local scene.

As I remember feeling I had no adequate reply to the question I was asking myself: “What exactly am I doing?”

I realized that the people thought that I was going from house to house to check whether they were baptized. Most saw me as God’s cop.

Upon this realization, I did an about turn and returned to the parish house determined not to do things unless I was convinced of their value.

That was perhaps my first step toward discovering that I had not come to Peru to simply do in Spanish what a priest might do in my native Australia in English.

The Real God Emerges
With help from others or alone, many of us began to rethink our approach to the mission we had undertaken, at the heart of which is God. We know God is named in many ways, but when I heard people speaking of the “God of life,” I began to understand Him in a different way.

I came to appreciate God as present in my and others’ lives. God is in the thick of where people are helping others live and grow. God became very close. I could be part of God’s life-giving plan. My remote god was beginning to be displaced with the real God.

A very dedicated Peruvian woman helped me see the mission of Jesus of Nazareth in terms of giving life. I began working with youth groups and soon discovered that I could help them grow in themselves.

I decided my main work would be striving to do as Jesus had proclaimed: “I have come that you may have life and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Insights gained over the years have steadily enriched and deepened this initial discovery and so I continue to live and work from the framework set out in that Gospel statement.

At the age of 62, I do not go about my mission as I did when I was 30. I am different. Peru has changed. The Church has changed.

In those days, I could walk to the furthest part of the three parishes in which I worked in about 15 minutes. Now I am in a parish in which it would take me 1 1/2 hours to walk to the farthest reaches. I don’t walk, however, I drive.

The parishes of my youth had one main church and one or two chapels. The parishes of today have one main church and 12 chapels in varying stages of physical and communal development.

In the early days, I worked closely with a few people in one or two youth groups. Now I work closely with some leaders but, for most people, I am a distant figure.

So much of the hands-on pastoral work is done by volunteer, lay pastoral workers. The parish priest has an essential coordinating and leadership role but, with a parish of 60,000 to 80,000 people, the 300 to 400 parish pastoral workers are key to reaching out and touching people in their daily lives.

God Can Seem Absent
Today, little is left of the fervor for greater justice and participation, either in the Church or in society. As the gap between rich and poor continues to increase, there seems to be little reason for euphoria or the hope of an imminent change for the better in our world.

I continue to believe in the “God of life” but wonder at times whether He has taken a vacation. The fundamental driving forces in our world seem to be avarice and self-interest. It is as if this “God of life” has been excluded from most of the major, decision-making institutions of our world.

But then, the God we read about in the Bible has a habit of being present to us through the ordinary and excluded of our world.

I believe God is constantly showing His hand in and among those with whom I live and work. I observe and listen to proclaim His loving presence to those who want to hear the “Good News” of God’s love for them.

I know I can sense the “God of life” in just about all if I listen to them, if I tune into what their life is about. I do this in the course of my pastoral work.

There are two facets of life, however, to which I want to give more attention. I see in the pastoral work with families a grassroots commitment at the national level to alter the way people relate to each other—a move from a monologue in family life to a dialogue between spouses, between brothers and sisters, between parents and children.

Lay pastoral workers run these family-oriented pastoral programs and need little help from me. But when I am asked to give a hand, I do my best to collaborate.

The second facet of life that I work on is the promotion of all that comes under the umbrella of Andean cultural heritage. I believe that by encouraging the Andean Mountain people to recognize and value their traditions, customs and way of being I can help them grow.

This allows them to truly see themselves as sons and daughters of God. And so, the “God of life” becomes ever more real for them, too.

There are pros and cons for everything in life, and so the pilgrim tends to walk a winding path rather than head straight down the highway. These jottings may indicate a straight-forward journey but, for the sake of brevity and simplicity, I have omitted the detours and the zigzags that occurred along the way.