Nhật Ký Truyền Giáo

Let your light shine before men
in such a way that they may see your good works
and glorify your Father who is in heaven
(Matthew 5:16)
To Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau
From Christi Publishing
April 22, 2009

First Edition
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CONTENTS
1. The Parish of Capernaum 11
2. Brethren 15
3. Nam Can Remembered 21
4. Searching for Laborers 27
5. Evangelical Environment Assimilation 33
6. The Panhandler 37
7. The Gospel of Alms or Gospel of Liberation 43
8. The Beloved Buddha 47
9. Sabbath for The People 53
10. After a Meeting 57
11. Bible Reading 61
12. A Priest of Whom? 67
13. The Monks’ Outfits 71
14. Meandering on Vatican II 75
15. The Praying Pharisee 81
16. Modesty Bears Witness to The Gospel 85
17. Reaching Out To The Poor 91
18. Social Justice 97
19. Civil Development 103
20. Madame Nam 109
21. Ms. Chin 115
22. Women 121
23. Funeral for Mrs. Nam 127

24. The Hibernated Seeds 131
25. Grassroots Communities 135
26. New Year Days in the Life of a Missionary 141
27. Evangelical Anniversary 147
28. Forgiveness 151
29. The Shepherd Whip 157
30. Ancestors Meal Offering 163
31. Fire Dance Superstition? 169
32. The Houses of Worship 173
33. Contemplating Jesus 177
34. My Cai Ran 181
35. Durian 187
36. Cultural Assimilation 191
37. The Voids Unfilled 199
38. Rich and Rags: The Vicious Cycle 203
39. Presence & Proclamation 209
40. On the road 213
41. Cai Ran, Joy and Grief 217
42. Searching for the Lost Ones 221
43. Black Teeth 227
44. Melancholy 233
45. Abstinence and Fasting 239
46. The Unexpected 245
47. At the End of the Tunnel 251
48. Renovation 263
49. Wandering 269
50. Just Like a Joke 275

51. Where Did the Wind Come From? 281
52. Heavenly Kingdom and Fruits of the Gray Mangrove 289
53. Typhoon Number Five 293
54. The Day After 299
55. Agape: Eat for Love; Eat to Love 313
56. Appendix 319
57. Epilogue 327
58. Contacts 329
8
FOREWORD
The request for me to write a foreword for this book had reached
me when I was preparing to leave for the airport on an assignment
in Korea. What am I going to say to the English readers who live in
the Western world with a Western culture? What can I tell them about
An Evangelist’s Diary? There are two things that I could immediately
think of at this moment–The two fundamentals of evangelization for
this day and age: The first, and the most obvious, is Cultural Assimila-
tion, and the second, at a deeper dimension, is to glorify Christianity.
CULTURAL ASSIMILATION
Two years a go, I had a chance to meet with some leaders of the
Chinese Catholic communities in China. They brought up an issue in
the history of evangelization in China, and said, To them, there were
two kinds of missionary–The first were those who have cared enough
to learn the local culture, to respect it, and help developing it. The sec-
ond were those who have not only ignored, but even tried to rid of it,
and at the same time, imposed a foreign culture upon the local people.
The latter were considered great encumbrances to the advancement
of Christianity, thus have had retarded the development of the Church
where they were assigned to.
To that I said, To me, from a family to the whole Church, from a
society to the entire world, from the ancient time up to the modern
time, there were always two kinds of Love–The first was love with
respect and understanding, the love that opened up to and supported
the development of the beloved. The second was the paterfamilias and
dictatorial love that enforced upon and oppressed those who were
supposed to be loved. The latter kind, of course, would jeopardize
and retard the development of the beloved. Vatican II have sincerely
rectified the wrongs in the history of the Church’s missions, and em-
phasized that the most fundamental in evangelizing now is cultural
assimilation. It has confirmed that the Church mission is to love and to
serve, and clarified that the nature of the Church is FOR the people.
Brother Tám Hậu–the South Vietnamese’s peculiar addressing
that I have been always using in referring to the Author of “An Evan-
gelist’s Diary” is a priest of Post Vatican II Era. The readers of this
book will be able to learn so much about cultural assimilation in Viet-
nam, especially the Southernmost part of the country (where I myself
came from.) This diary of his thirty-year long apostolic mission was
the first and most obvious reason for many in our Christian communi-
ties to revere him as a true Evangelist, and also the cause for many
Catholics and non-Catholics in the Ca Mau Province to recognize
him, to welcome him, and to love him from the beginning.
CHRISTIANITY GLORIFYING
The core of the Christian faith was always a conviction that God
is a loving Father, thus to feel his love, realize what we have and what
we are, be a gift from that loving Father, and at the same time, go out
of our way to testify and to preach his love to our brothers and bearing
witness to that we all were his children, the children of a much larger
family–the global family of mankind.
Everything that Brother Tám Hậu has shown through his life and
works, everything that he has preached, written... were all Christian
faith glorifying. The readers of this book now have a chance to peek
into the daily life of a missionary who has been living and preach-
ing primarily the Word of Love in a farthest corner of the land. It
will allow us to see what he saw, to feel what he felt, sharing with
what he had in mind and in heart, and learn how he has rekindled
the long-dimmed flame of love amongst his fellow humans in this vast
region––the flame that Christ Redemptorist himself had brought into
this world––and consequently glorified his Christian faith.
That must be the cause at a much deeper depth that brought forth
the spectacular results that Brother Tám Hậu has been reaping, and
I know that must also be the cause for other brethren now wanting to
bring this Diary to the English readers of the world.
Cardinal Jean Baptiste Pham Minh Man

Archbishop of Hochiminh City, Vietnam
March 22, 2009
8
Cardinal Jean Baptiste Pham Minh Man and Pope John Paul II
in Saint Peter’s Square on October 21, 2003 - Photo by
Salvatore Laporta/Getty Images - LIFE Magazine
8
1. THE PARISH OF CAPERNAUM 11
Cần Thơ, 1970

HEME OF THE DIOCESE RETREAT this year was Evan-
gelization. The Bishop rallied for the support of the
evangelization campaign. To evangelize was to develop
public Civility, public Education, and public Spirit. Suddenly,
he quoted some foreign missionary. “The Vietnamese priests
have skills in parish management, but they don’t know how to
develop one!”
Hurting patriotically, I sprung up, raising my hand. “Your
Excellency! It’s not that we didn’t know how to develop a parish,
but because we didn’t have your official assignment instead!”
The more aggressive I had become, the more calm he re-
mained. Then with a deep, sad voice, he moderately answered.
“I would not dare to send any of you out, knowing that the lives
of the missionaries would be extremely harsh and deprived, un-
less you volunteer. So raise your hand if you will.”
There were six arms, raising straight and high–Two older,
two middle aged, and two younger ones. The Bishop smiled, and
asked teasingly. “But if you leave for the mission, who would
take care of the parish, the seminary, and the school?”
Everybody bursted out laughing. And it was just that, a hit-
and-run, that’s all! The issue was raised as an idea and a quick
survey only. After the week-long retreat, everyone would have
gone back to their parishes and continued to proclaim the Good
News to those who had heard already. Absolutely nobody would
have thought of, or done anything for those who were out there
who never had a chance to hear it before.
Now, while writing these words, I thought of the days when
Jesus came to preach in Capernaum. After listening to his ser-
12 AN EVANGELIST’S DIARY
mons and witnessing his miracle performances, the people of

Capernaum came up with an idea. “Please stay with us, Rabbi!
Please don’t leave!”...
This appeal got more than one meaning.
First, out of love, they had wanted Him to stay with them.
They didn’t want to see him perspiring profusely in the sun, and
not having enough time even to finish a decent meal or sleep a
whole night due to his non-stop travelling. They had wished to
provide Him with a comfortable ‘parish house’ and a good cook,
such as Simon’s mother-in-law, perhaps...
Second, they had wished to contribute their legacy to his
legacy. They wanted Capernaum to become a sermon centre, a
cure-all centre. Capernaum would become the ‘capital of a New
Israel.’ His legacy would gloriously become theirs too!
Please stay with us, Rabbi! Please don’t leave!... What a
lovely, heart-softening plea. It was a temptation, an exquisite
one. And to that, Jesus simply said. “I have to proclaim the Good
News about the kingdom of God in other cities, because I was
sent to do that too!” Then left, and moved on, and on...
My Lord! You had left Capernaum to preach the Good News,
and here we are, dwelling comfortably here for parish admin-
istration!
It was true that your Church has had a tradition of loving
its parishes. Your children have had clustered up into Catholic
villages. I was born and grew up in one myself.
The parish that I was born in had a glorious church. The
church got a tall bell tower. Every morning, noon, and evening,
the bells tolled, ringing all the way to the non-Catholic village
then echoed back from the faraway hills of oil palms... Our
Parish priest has been residing in a parish house protected by
a thick bamboo hedge and guarded with an ironwood gate
that almost always closed and looked so austere that we kids
wouldn’t loiter near. He loved us so much. He left us exactly
one week per year every year only for the Diocesan mandatory
retreat. He had baptized three generations in the parish. He
was the one who heard my first Confession and gave me my
first Communion, and it was him who invited the Bishop to the
village for our Confirmation. Those who got seriously ill and
asked for Anointing, he would come right away regardless of
time, day, or night. When one passed away, he would come to
his or her house to conduct the funeral rites, personally attended
the ceremony to bring the deceased from home to church for the
Requiem, then follow the coffin to the grave site to bless it, and
leave only after throwing a handful of dirt into the grave bidding
farewell to the departed.
Every year in May, he called for the rituals of flower offering
and the inter-village Virgin Mary Rose Parade. The whole parish
was lightened up gloriously with flickering lights. Other events
were praying and reflecting in the Lent Season and prayer con-
tests on Easter and All Saints’ Day... The thumping sound of the
cheering drums for the contest went on all day. The whole parish
was so joyously festive.
During summer, the older seminarians from the Grand Sem-
inary and the younger ones from the Minor Seminaries came
to our village to perform the theatrical plays. There were plays
of St. Alexis of Rome, and of Saint Anthony the Hermit. The
whole parish was so upbeat. Our Parish priest and we parishio-
ners were bonded together so close, closer than Adam’s rib bone
in Eve’s flesh, and so tight that even the Bishop couldn’t break
us apart. Thus, when I was a child, he was there, and now I am
here, writing these lines, he is still there, firmly planted into the
ground like a household burn-clay water vessel.
Our Catholic village was separated from the non-Catholic
village only by a small dirt road that was wide enough for two
water buffaloes to pass, squeezing rib-to-rib; But our two vil-
lages had two distinctive cultures–like those from two different
countries.
On the other side, there were curvy roof lines of a Bud-

dhist pagoda. On this side, a tall bell tower.
On the other side, bells of the pagoda softly and consis-
tently rang; On this side, the church bells tolled burstingly and
urgently.
On the other side, the non-Catholics called the roses huê
hồng. On this side, we called it hoa hồng.
On the other side, the non-Catholics called a crab con
cua. We on this side called it con căng xe’ 2
Kids from both villages got into gang fights from time
to time.
Therefore, since the day my brain started registering, I
haven’t seen one single convert at the parish. I also haven’t
heard the Parish priest complaining about it, or the Bishop chid-
ing him for that either.
My Lord! your Good News has been compacted and solidi-
fied in our parish. The parish had turned into a ghetto, confining
the News. It was like a proud castle confining us, and turning us
into an arrogant bunch in the eyes of the non-Catholics.
My Lord! when would we be able to say this to our parishes–
We have to proclaim the Good News to the other cities too, since
that was why we were sent here to begin with...
8
1
Capernaum or Capharnaum is a city in Galilee where Jesus spent enough
time in and around it that it came to be known as Jesus’ own city.
2
In the Catholic village, the word ‘cua’ had a dirty meaning, so the French
missionaries ordered us to call it ‘cancer’ instead.
2. BRETHREN 15
2. BRETHREN
Cần Thơ, 1971

ING... RING... “Hello, Parish Church, how may I
help you?” – “Is that you Father Hậu?” – “Yes, Your
Excellency!”–“ComeovertotheDiocesanHouse;Iwant
to see you now!” – “Yes sir!” 1
The stairway in the Diocesan House was made of cool green
terrazzo, but deep inside, I didn’t feel cool at all. I dragged my
feet like trying to hold back time. I tiptoed to the door of the
Bishop’s room, knocking softly. It was the first time I had to
meet with him face to face. What would happen? Certainly not
good, I guessed; But if bad, then what, and why?
Some slippers dragging on the marble floor, then the door
flung open. The Bishop smiled cheerfully. “Yes, Father Hậu,
come on in and have a seat. Here’s some cigarettes; help your-
self! You smoke “thuốc lào,” 2 so these would be nothing!” He
pushed a pack of blue-labeled Bastos® cigarette toward me. See-
ing that he was open, my heartbeat reset to its normal rhythm.
The Bishop ahem. “You’ve asked for an evangelizing mission
assignment, I’ll satisfy that. There are two pilot regions–Cái Tắc
and Năm Căn. 3 Pick one. It’s your choice, Father!”
I knew Cái Tắc. It’s only sixteen kilometers from Cần Thơ
City Church, right next to the national highway. But I had no
clue where Năm Căn was. With my heroic and wanderlust blood
surging inside, I replied without hesitation. “Your Excellency,
I’ll go to Năm Căn; But, Your Excellency... Where is it?”
“Ah, I don’t really know yet; Just saw it on the map. Come
out here and take a look.” He took me to a map as big as a
queen-sized mat leaning against the wall in the hallway. Look-
ing down to the farthest South, he pointed to on a small circle.
“There it is! I was told that it got a large population. The people
there were dirt poor and illiterate. Why don’t you go down there
and stake a look first before making any decisions huh.”
That was the first time I had a chance to chat with the Bishop.
The pack of Bastos was gradually emptied out while the fatherly
love filled in fuller and fuller. The Bishop told me his life stories,
as a seminarian, a priest, a teacher, and a Bishop...
Năm Căn, the night of September 19, 1971

Tonight, my sleep was abruptly ended with a dream. I saw my
mother slipping into my hand a handful of small bills, and ear-
nestly looking at me without uttering a word.
My mother was a very poor women. Her figure was small
and haggard. Every back-to-school day, she used to slip into my
hand a fistful of small bills like that. She might have to scrape
up a whole year to come up with that. She was self-consciously
abashed because the amount was pathetically small comparing
to the tremendous love that she had for me–the son of her best
of hope. Her small and haggard figure with her self-blaming ex-
pression had bursted me into tears. That’s where the dream had
ended, but my tears continued to stream down, unstoppable.
Perhaps I had forgotten how to cry for over twenty years,
and proud of that. But tonight, I have cried again, and cried my
heart out. Was that a life changing event? I had gotten so used to
live with my faculty of reasoning and strong will. But tonight, I
was melted down and filled up with emotions.
Actually, when I chose Năm Căn, I chose myself the small-
est share, then bravely butt-headed with the least provided and
the most challenged post. However, lately, my heart has begun
to shrivel, become more and more miser and stingy–I have be-
gun to compare with others, materially envying–
While others lived in big houses–I had nothing but a hut!
While others were well fed–I’ve been stuck with the rep-
2. BRETHREN 17
ertoire of dry fishes and the soy sauce!

While others had all kinds of funds, even expenses for
their retreats would be provided for by the parish–Here I was,
feeling like a pathetic silkworm that got all mulberry leaves
dumped onto its little head–From a pill, a mosquito net, or a
mat... all had to come out from my own tattered pocket!
While others were living right in the heart of the city,
where books or newspapers, whenever wanted, could be ob-
tained in a matter of minutes–Here I was, waiting for a whole
month to receive an old, worn one!
While others nestled safely inside at night to watch TV–
Here I was, standing and viewing the nightly show of military
flares, trembling with fear!
While others were so well provided by their parishioners–
from the delicious sweet desserts on the dining table to the frog-
shaped Vespas running oh-so-smoothly on the highways–Here
I was, begging for each and every little can of rice to feed my
missionary brothers.
Oh my evangelical can of rice! You’ve been torturing me...
Now I knew exactly what the Bishop meant when he said “I
wouldn’t dare to send any of you out, knowing that the lives of
the missionaries would be extremely harsh and deprived”...
I was not afraid of hardship, but I didn’t know how hardship
could have gnawed on me, bit by bit, and slowly turned me into
a stingy miser. The thought of going ‘AWOL’ 4 flared up in my
mind, then vanished only when a mumbling sound arose from
the mosquito net next to mine. I shone the flashlight into it, see-
ing that Mai, my missionary companion, was turning in his bed
before slipping back into his must-be lucid dream.
Mai was my involuntary companion. I remembered vividly
the conversation I had that day at the Diocesan House. Bishop
Quang said, “I’ll let you pick any priest that you get along well
with to be your companion in Năm Căn mission.”
“Your Excellency, going to Năm Căn is very adventurous;

Let me go just by myself to try it out first!”
“No. There must be two of you!”
“Um... If that’s the case, give me Father Mai then. I think
Mai is a gentle one who would get along fine with me!” A sec-
ond later, “But Your Excellency, Mai has gastric problems!”...
I have regarded Mai highly, a gentle brother with calm dis-
position. I did not want Mai to go with me, fearing that I would
bring misery to a brother. I brought up Mai’s gastric problems
to corner the Bishop into letting me go chivalrously, but he still
risked letting Mai go with me to Năm Căn. Now Mai’s here,
sleeping peacefully, and here I am, thinking of going “AWOL”!
Dear Mai,
I am sorry... because of me, you have to live miserably in a place where

‘monkeys couldn’t cough and cranes wouldn’t crow!’ I want to thank you
since you are now my big subject of contemplation. To understand how valu-
able your presence is to me, I’ve asked myself–What would I do without you?
Jesus, our Supreme Master, had sent missionaries out in pairs. He must have
considered that–
When the two preach the same thing, it must be true. That has
always been the rule, and that rule was part of the Israeli culture.
When the two do the same thing, it would become a community

work. The Church is a community. The Church is universal. If there were only
one starting a mission station, he could have set it up and play by his own
rules, turning the station into his own possession; or at least, he would have
felt that he were everything; Hence, the church that he built would have lost
its popularity–which was the most fundamental character of the Church.
Dear Mai,
Without you, I could have become a warlord, a dictator who would turn this
station into him, and him into it. The mission would have been nullified.
2. BRETHREN 19
The ancient chinese art of war manual wrote – The pair who work
for the same cause love each other; The pair who enjoy the same privilege
hate each other. – You and me, brother, we share a tough life and a burdening
responsibility together so they may become lighter and more bearable. And
privileges? We had none to fight for, or so to hate each other with.
Dear Mai,
If you were not here, would I be able to go on with the mission that the
Holy Spirit had assigned me with? If I didn’t see you laying there, breathing
rhythmically in your peaceful sleep, would I be courageous enough to get
rid of the thought of ‘going AWOL’ that flared up in my mind? Having you
at the station made me feel at ease. Seeing you there, the tugging sadness in
my heart had receded. With you here, the stream of my self-pitying tears had
stopped flowing. I couldn’t sleep tonight, but I knew tomorrow night, I will
sleep well, knowing that you will be there, on my side...
Dear Mai,
It’s getting near dawn now. Did you know that the high tide had overflowed
into our house; and your slippers, with mine, had followed each other
floating into the far corner of the house? A little later, when you wake up,
you’ll be dumbfounded seeing them gone, and you’ll be amazed having to
wade splashing right inside our house... But we’ll have a good hearty laugh,
greeting a new day!
8
1
Bishop Nguyễn Ngọc Quang (1909-1990)
2
“Thuốc lào” is loose domestic tobacco to smoke with a water pipe, very popu-
lar with the heavy smokers in the North.
3
Năm Căn is a ward in Cà Mau. The Province, named after its provincial capi-
tal city of Cà Mau, is the southernmost of Vietnam’s 64 provinces. During the
Vietnam War, the southern and western part of Ca Mau including Năm Căn
and U Minh (which is now Tran Van Thoi) were a stronghold for the National
Liberation Front of Vietnam (better known as ‘Viet Cong’.)
4
Abbreviation of the military term “Absent Without Leave”
Partial province map with Cai Nuoc, Dam Cung and Nam Can
8
3. NAM CAN REMEMBERED 21
3. NAM CAN REMEMBERED
Cái Keo, 1973

ODAY I WENT FOR A TOUR to get to know the villagers.
Mr. M. and his wife built a small fish trap right at the riv-
erbank. They had come here bare-handed, and borrowed
some money to buy the tools for their trades.
“How much did you owe for this fish trap?” I asked.
“Ten grand (~US $120 in ‘73.) It’s just a very small one though,
making a grand or so ($1.20) a day, ‘nuf to get by” Mr. M. said.
“How much interest do they charge you per month?”
“Gotta give ‘em three hundred buck ($.36) a day!”
“Three-hundred-a-day? Thirty days make it three grand!
That means you have to pay nine-hundred-percent interest per
month! Unheard of in this world!”
On my way home, I was perplexed with the social issues
at this end of the country. Why did the lenders cold-heartedly
charge nine-hundred-percent interest a month? And why–with
their throats choked like that–did the borrowers still go on living
like nothing had happened?
I analyzed these facts, going by the book–Why–What Hap-
pened–and For What. Finally, I got it–
1. IT’S SO EASY TO MAKE A LIVING HERE in Năm Căn. Just
taking the sampan out to cast the net for a few hours could have
brought ten kilo of shrimps or more. Taking just a small sampan
into the mangrove forests to catch mussels, blunt greepers, and
fiddler crabs... could have brought enough to feed five mouths.
With an initial investment of US $120, one could make more or
less US $1.20 a day. That means it would triple every month.
In other words, it was an enterprise with three-hundred-percent
profit margin per month.
2. A loan with nine-hundred-percent interest per

month was not considered fleecing here, since, in order to get
to that money, the lenders would have to go out collecting thirty
times a month. Many times, they had to beg for it; sometimes,
they must resort to verbal fights to see the money squeezing out
of the borrowers’ pockets–and the labor cost for verbal fighting
was priceless! That’s not to mention when the borrowers ran
away before the principal was fully paid. All they would have
left behind could be an array of worthless assets including a tat-
tered hut and a worn broom...
Oh Social Equality! What would be fleecing, and what would
be fair?
Năm Căn, 1976

Today, I came back to Năm Căn with a bunch of curious friends.
First we dropped by to see Mr. Tư Đức.
The Năm Căn mission station was shut down 1 for a year
already, yet the Bible quotes chalked on the wooden walls of
Mr. Tư’s still remained readable. The seed of evangelization
that had been sown five years ago was still there, despite the
dry spell. But, what would happen to it tomorrow, and the
day after tomorrow? Well... I would leave Năm Căn in care
of the Holy Spirit!
That evening, we dropped by the watermelon farm. Water-
melons everywhere... Every house had a tray full of them.
“Eat ‘em, priest! Finish ‘em before leavin’.”
“Oh no... that would probably kill me!”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, priest! There’s also a pot of duck
porridge. Seein’ ya there, I began preppin’ the duckie here. See-
in’ ya, priest, makes me happy like crazy. Thought we’d never
see ya ‘gain!”
Within three hours, we had to finish three pots full of duck
porridge and ten trays of watermelons.
The Năm-Cănese were like that! Eat ‘til you drop to show
your love – Drink ‘til you flip to be a bro’... So simple, so hearty,
and so lovable!
Cái Rắn, Nov. 25, 1995

This morning, I went for a memorial anniversary at Rạch Ruộng.
In the evening, I came back for a memorial seven-day for Mrs.
Năm Hơn. After the rites, I stayed behind to talk to the mourn-
ing family. What a sad story!...
Mrs. Năm Hơn came to see her daughter in Năm Căn. At
two in the morning, Nov. 20, 1995, she urged her daughter to
take her to Vàm Ông Do to catch a river bus back to Cái Rắn.
“It’s too early, Mom!”
“It’s about time!”
The mother and daughter pushed and pulled for a while. The
shallow sampan then took Mrs. Năm to the river mouth with a
tired paddling rhythm of a sulky daughter.
The faint light of the stars seemed to render the night darker in
the night of the 27th (lunar calendar.) The receding tide had turned
the river into a rapid, plunging into the sea like a waterfall.
“Here comes the river mouth! Hold on, Mom! The water is
kicking hard! Lots had drowned here before... Oh my God!” The
sampan went straight into the fish trap. “Mom! ... Anybody help!
Mom!... Mom!...”
Mrs. Năm sank into the cold water of the river without a
word. Her daughter’s heart-rending cry tore the silent veil of
the night apart. Dozens of flashlights swept around, searching in
vain. Three-thirty a.m., November 20, 1995.
“The body will float up in forty-eight hours. The Cửa Lớn
River’s so mean. Can’t dive in just yet. Just gotta wait.” A mid-
dle-aged man firmly advised. The rough and oversized feet then
quietly left the fish trap observation post, returning Vàm Ông
Do to a horrified dark night and a desperate cry...
After the terribly sad story, everyone voiced their admiration

for the golden hearts of Năm Căn. “The neighborhood at Vàm
Ông Do had gathered $590,000 (~US $59 in ‘95.) It paid for the
search boats’ gas in two days with $200,000 ($20) and still had
$390,000 ($39) left for the mourning family to take back to Cái
Rắn!.. The fish trap owner had cooked for and fed the search
team. He had also taken care of the mourning family members
who came for the search. Our needs were fully taken care of by
the others... People of Hàng Vịnh hamlet and the Red Cross at
Năm Căn took care of us from the beginning to the end–assign-
ing search members, gathering donations... They’re so kind!”...
“If there were a same thing happen here at Cái Rắn,” I asked,
“Would we the people at Cái Rắn be able to do what the people
of Năm Căn did?” Only sheepish smiles in return.
It must be why the Lord had to say bitterly. “I haven’t seen
faith like this in all the land of Israel!... Why is this foreigner the
only one who came back to give thanks to God?”
Having deeply moved by these golden hearts, I had to write
an open letter to my beloved Năm Căn.
My beloved Năm Căn!
I have known Năm Căn since the beginning of 1971. But not until May 24 that
year did I have a chance to actually set my foot on Năm Căn’s soil, and fell
in love with Năm Căn ever since.
But Năm Căn was so tattered back then. An unknown musician who once
wrote, spontaneously, a song named “Năm Căn, The Place of Exile.” The
artist, hugging his guitar, swaying his bare head to mourn his heartbroken
fate despairingly on a Christmas night, a Christmas night that was not lit up
with twinkling colorful lights but flickering with a net of screaming military
flares instead.
But that was justifiable though, since Năm Căn back then was a Năm Căn
in war. The war had choked Năm Căn up like a hangman’s knot. Năm Căn’s
forests were ploughed over and over with 41-mm rockets and 105-mm artil-
leries; Năm Căn’s mangroves were battered by 50-mm and 60-mm machine
guns; Năm Căn’s people were tattered like the chemically defoliated forests...
But I still loved Năm Căn, and always wanted to be a Năm-Cănese!
Only on June 14, ’75, I had to leave Năm Căn involuntarily. 1 My body had
left, but never my heart. Now I saw that Năm Căn’s forests had turned into
pumpkin patches and potato fields as far as the eyes can see. I saw forest
farms turned into immense shrimp farms. I saw Năm Căn rising like a kite in
a favorable wind, with jewelry and watch stores squeezing up side by side,
and young ladies bejeweling from head to toe. But I have also witnessed the
days Năm Căn’s market was as marketable as a pot of spoiled porridge when
the farmed shrimps began to die, and kept on dying...
Today, after the death of Mrs. Năm Hơn, my heart was again blissfully filled
with love for Năm Căn. I wanted to go all the way to Vàm Ông Do to show
my appreciation and love to the people, the government, and the Red Cross
of Năm Căn. I wanted to squeeze the hand of the fish trap owner who had a
loving heart bigger than the river of Cửa Lớn.
See you soon, Năm Căn!
8
1
Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau was first apprehended and detained by the Viet Cong
(the National Liberation Front of Vietnam) on November 1, 1974 in Mang Ro,
Ca Mau, released, and apprehended again on December 05, 1974.
Cai Nuoc was ‘liberated’ on December 19, 1974, more than 4 months earlier
than the final collapse of South Vietnam on April 30, 1975. Right after the ‘lib-
eration,’ three evangelical team members at the mission station–Seminarian
Hưng, Ms Hồng and Ms. Xuân, were immediately apprehended. Rev. Hoạch
(Brother Năm Hoạch) who came to bail them out got himself apprehended.
Three other Seminarians, Vân, Đức and Thanh, were apprehended after that.
January 05, 1975–after being released from Mang Ro, and on his way to Cai
Nuoc to bail his evangelical team out, the Author was apprehended again at
Cong Ong Ta. He was later transferred to Cai Chim, and detained at Kien
Vang prison camp where the rest of the team were (See map on page 32).
January 16, 1975–Mr. Ung Ngoc Uyen, the new Judge of Ca Mau, who was
also a former student of Petrus Ky High School in Saigon, had transferred him
to Mr. Hai Ben Tre’s in Lung Tra for civil detention. “You’re a church high
ranking officer. It doesn’t look right to keep you in prison. I bailed you out so
you’d have fresh water to take a bath with. I’ll have some officers from higher
up to ‘work’ with you; We at the provincial level can detain you only.”
Jan. 24, 1975–Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau was transferred from Mr. Hai Ben Tre’s
to Ms. Chin’s at Ben Bong, next to Vam Dinh, also in the Ward of Cai Nuoc at
9 p.m. During the detention period at Ms. Chin’s, the intelligence officers from
Military Zone Number 9 headquarters in Can Tho who came to ‘work’ with
him had taken him into a house nearby, harassed and chided him in 3-hour
interrogation session each, three times a day, everyday.
June 12, 1975–Mr. Mười Thăng, a Ca Mau Security authority released him
and the rest of his team. “You’re supposed to be released much sooner, but
we’re so busy with the urgent tasks of government transition thus you had to
stay in longer. Please understand.” He and his team left Nam Can mission
station on June 14, 1975, and returned in 1976 as herein described.
A large fish trap in Ca Mau, 2008
8
4. SEARCHING FOR LABORERS 27
4. SEARCHING FOR LABORERS
Cần Thơ, 1973

ODAY I DROPPED BY the Congregation of the Lovers of
the Holy Cross at Sóc Trăng. The Sister Superior wel-
comed me like a victorious homecoming soldier. She
ceaselessly praised our mission achievements at Năm Căn, and
said she wished that she had a chance to do it herself. I felt so
happy inside, thinking, This fish would certainly bite!
“The mission at Năm Căn has been sprouting up like
mushrooms. I just started another station, but didn’t have enough
cadres. Right now, we have the Daughters of Charity of St.
Vincent de Paul, the Congregation of the Holy Family, 1 Society
of Apostolic Life, 2 seminarians from Lái Thiêu Missionary
Seminary, 3 the missionaries, 4 and some seminarians... but it’s
still not enough. The harvest is plentiful indeed, but the workers
were too few.I’d like to ask if you want to have your Congregation
to participate!”
“How many Sisters are you asking for, Father?”
“As many as I may–but two at least!”
“Please understand, Father! We have too few in our Congre-
gation. Besides, the Sisters were too young; We dare not to send
them out too far. For now, Khúc Tréo would be the farthest.”
“Uh... If not this year, then next year, perhaps?”
“Father... it won’t be for another five years!”
I’ve got it. Another-five-years means never.
The warm welcome and the flowery smile of the Sister Su-
perior had suddenly turned into desperation. I bid her goodbye,
leaving sheepishly like a cat with no ears. Perhaps the Sister
Superior’s smile were still there, behind me.
All women have maternal love. All maternal love was im-
mense like the Pacific Ocean. They had gingerly lift their chil-
dren up as they would with fragile eggs, and carefully put them
down like delicate flowers. Even when the kids grew up huge
afterward, but to the mothers, they were still babies forever.
I remembered when the Lord gathered his seventy-two dis-
ciples to read the order to depart. They were not trained yet.
Even the Lord himself had to admit–I send you as lambs among
wolves. But he sent them out anyway since God would be with
them. They had to learn as-they-go.
It was just a thought though, since I knew that no Superior
would do that...
Năm Căn, 1973

I received a letter from a Superior. It read:
Dear Father Hậu,
Thank you for entrusting us in asking for our participation in Năm Căn mis-
sion. We do not readily have the manpower, but conveniently, we have two
willing pre-convent girls at college level that we would like to send along for
your training. Please help them all you could...
Wow, college level, willing, and wanting to become nuns! I’ll

take ‘em all! It was like a sleepy guy seeing a cot–No, better yet,
like blind cat who accidentally caught a fried fish. I sent them
both to a newly started mission station in Đầm Cùng.
Đầm Cùng, 1973

I dropped by Đầm Cùng to check on the station’s progress.
Brother Nam reported to me that everything was fine–Lots of
students, and they’re all good; The relationships with the par-
ents and the locals were good; But there’s an ongoing scandal
though. The two new female teachers at the station were stirring
up a whole mess of jealousy, not seeing eye-to-eye. I thought, if
this scandalous bomb were to explode, my two female teachers

would have been more of victims than problems. They were like
new dishes on a too plain and simple of a dinner tray.
“It’s okay. I’ll send them to Năm Căn then. Prevention is
always better than cure.”
Năm Căn, 1974

A converting woman complained. “Brother B. went out drinking
with the local boys, and got ridiculously drunk, Father!”
“Thank you! I’ll look into that. By the way, you all may talk
to them also! Just having fun with the youngsters, I guess, but
perhaps a little too much to keep his decency.”
My Lord! The harvest was plentiful, yet the laborers were
too few, and now they’re drunk like that, the birds and the rats
must have had a feast...
The missionary works here were harsh, lacking of necessi-
ties, civil safety, 5 manpower... and now, even morality!
Năm Căn, 1974

This afternoon, I sat down with my brethren in Đầm Cùng Sta-
tion. The mission here was making a significant progress. The
cadres had three different locations covered. There were several
potential converts. The school’s reputation was rising high. The
cadres had willingly accepted the lack of necessities. There were
only a few insignificant trivial frictions.
Lương Quang Chung, a high-spirited, honest brother, sud-
denly threw me a question without word-mincing. “Father, ev-
erything you’ve done, I couldn’t even touch; But there’s one
thing that I couldn’t stand–Your selection of cadres sucked!”
I mused silently on that. There must be some other cadres
who really disappointed him. I felt pity, but not regret.
This class of 74-75 had almost fifty cadres including semi-
narians, friars, nuns, several parishioners, and one pre-convert.
The seminarians, monks and nuns were sent by the Bishop and
their Convent Superiors. These were godsends. The lay mis-
sionaries were all female teachers that I had selected and later
trained by the Daughters of Charity to teach tailoring, sewing,
and cooking classes with the nuns’ general assistance, few with
“special instructions” attached by their Parish priests .
Having thought it out, I felt all right since there’s nothing
more that I could have done, but got to check with the Gospel to
see how Jesus had selected and trained his cadres though.
1. The standard: Usually, ones has two criteria to select
cadres with–Mobility and Morality. The Lord’s standards were
absolutely secrets, so secretive that only Mark had got a peek–
He called to him those he wants–But why did he want what he
wanted? Only God knows! If based upon ability and morality, I
could only see Nathan a-just-Israeli-who-never-lies; Philip and
Andrew energetic and socialite; John highly observant; Peter
short-tempered and uncertain; Matthew with an obscure back-
ground of a tax collector and an excommunicator; Thomas un-
sociable, withdrawn, and contentious; and alas, Judas Iscariot–a
god-damned, a thief, and a betrayer.
2. The trainings: The Lord didn’t have any training school.
Everything was on-the-job training, learning-as-you-go. The
Lord didn’t have time to train; He didn’t even have time to eat
and sleep... When he went out to pray at night, his disciples fell
asleep, even when he transformed on the mountain, and even
in the Olive Garden. His disciples did not know how to fast nor
pray, and they were even less well-trained than John Baptist’s!
3. The mission: The Lord had sent his disciples out on their
missions with their bags virtually empty–Go: Behold I send
you as lambs among wolves. Their manners were rather lowly
regarded, and for that, he got complained–Why do we and the
Pharisees fast, but not your disciples? They even started fight-
ing for a better title in the Lord’s kingdom, a kingdom that they
took for a worldly meaning.

4. The results: Yet on their missions, they had obtained
results that were so spectacular that the Lord himself had to pro-
claim–I saw Satan fall down like lightning! But it’s only the
evangelical results. On the personnel side, the Lord wasn’t that
successful. The group of 12 lost 8.3%; The group of 72 was al-
most a total loss (they may have had 5.5% left with Joseph and
Matthias, and Cleopas and his travel companion on the way to
Emmaus!)
My Lord! My brother had said that my selection of cadres
sucked. Now, comparing to the two groups of your disciples,
especially with Judas Iscariot, I realized that my Lord’s selec-
tion was also ...
So Lord, why don’t you talk to my brother, and give him an
answer for me, please!
8
1
Known as Banam Congregation, or “Dòng Banam” in Vietnam, this mission-
ary congregation was established in Banam, Cambodia in 1905 by Father
Pianet of “Missions Etrangères de Paris” (better known as MEP) in 1905.
March 06, 1970 – Cambodia Air Force bombed the parish and the Congrega-
tion complex in Banam. Those who survived escaped back to Vietnam.
March 18, 1970 – Prince Norodom Sihanouk of Cambodia was dethroned. An

anti-Vietnamese wave followed by a national campaign of ‘cáp duồn,’ or ‘de-
capitation of Vietnamese.’ Untold thousands of Vietnamese were decapitated.
Hundreds of thousands more were thrown into concentration camps. Tens of
thousands of their headless bodies were tied together in groups, thrown into
the Mekong River to flow back to Vietnam as instructed by the Khmer Rouge.
August 12, 1970 – Vatican decreed the Congregation to reestablish in Long

Xuyên Diocese – Spring 1971, the construction of new facilities began with a
chapel, housing complex, and a brick making plant in the village of Bình Đức,
Cần Xây, Long Xuyên.
April 30, 1975, all Congregation’s activities stopped after the fall of South
Vietnam, and the establishment of a new Communist government.
1984, all members of the Congregation were apprehended for “Breach of Na-
tional Security” right after the Lunar New Year. All Congregation’s properties
were confiscated.
1987, the members were gradually released after 3 years of successful ‘re-
education.’
2
Known as Tu Hội Tận Hiến in Vietnam, Incarnatio Consecratio Missio (ICM)
in Latin, the Society of Apostolic Life is similar to the Religious Institute of
Consecrated Life.
3
Known as Chủng Viện Thừa Sai in Lái Thiêu, Vietnam.
4
Known as Tu sĩ Truyền Giáo in Vietnam, a missionary congregation estab-
lished by former Bishop Nguyễn Kim Điền in Cần Thơ, now defunct.
5
1963, Nam Can started to fall more and more into control of the Viet Cong
after the demise of President Ngo Dinh Diem.
1974, Nam Can was considered out of control by the government.
1975, South Vietnam finally collapsed on April 30th.
1977, The Viet Cong’s National Liberation Front of Vietnam was dissolved
after the North and South of Vietnam reunified.
Partial map of Ca Mau with Dam Cung and Kien Vang in circle
8
5. EVANGELICAL ENVIRONMENT ASSIMILATION 33
5. EVANGELICAL
ENVIRONMENT ASSIMILATION
Năm Căn, 1973

HIS MORNING, I came to Chà Là to find a way to start
a new mission station. Chà Là was considered a cru-
cial crossroad. Southbound boat traffic frequently
stopped by here. I asked a river bus owner to invite some highly
regarded local folks for an informal meeting at a teahouse.
My audience was mostly in their fifties. All eyes were on
me. No close acquaintances. I introduced myself as a missionary
who was obsessed with teaching. I proposed starting a school to
introduce Christianity. Nobody said anything. Lost. The silence
became ridiculously embarrassing.
I whispered into the ear of the river bus owner, the only one
I knew. He brought over a huge glass of ‘rượu đế,’ the Vietnam-
ese sweet rice alcohol. I raised the glass. “This is the first time
that I have the honor to meet with you all. To commemorate this,
and with your permission, I would like to raise a glass to our
future friendship!”
I took a sip, and then passed the glass along, clockwise. More
than thirty people shared the glass with me. The air was still
frigidly silent. I whispered to the river bus owner again. Another
huge glass of ‘đế’ went clockwise again. The cold stares started
to turn friendlier. Many arms raised for contributive ideas...
The meeting had finally ended. The audience asked me to
drop by a vacant lot that they suggested for the school building.
That’s how the Chà Là Mission Station had began.
Oh dear alcohol! It’s you that battered my life, but it’s you
that brought joy to my heart. Thank you, Alcohol! Because of
you, Chà Là mission station now had a chance to be born!
Ban Mê Thuột, 1973

I dropped by to see a friend of mine, Mr. Y Xuăn in Buôn Kpung
1
with some missionaries from Năm Căn. Y Xuăn brought out a
‘vò rượu cần,’ a tall vase of homemade tribal alcohol. We looked
at each other, perplexed. To drink or not to drink? How to? Is
it sanitary? Is it alcoholic? At the end, we all bent the bamboo
drinking pipes down and drank up, since that was courtesy, and
that was fraternity.
It was here that I was told some evangelical stories–
There were a few tribal men from the Tribes of Rhade and
Bahnar who got ordained as priests. No one else got it thereafter.
There was a rumor that the Bishop of Kontum 2 had later regret-
ted ordaining them, since after becoming men-of-the-cloth, they
came right back to their tribes, ‘đóng khố’ again (putting their
loincloths back on,) and sipping ‘rượu cần’ like everybody else.
The rumor also said that he had later swore to only ordain those
who grew up and trained from the (Vietnamese) kindergartens.
If that rumor were true, I asked myself–
1. How could wearing ‘khố ’ and drinking ‘rượu cần’ in
the midst of these mountain tribes have been justifiable consid-
ered conflicting to the call of priesthood?
2. Had insisting on calling and training priests in this
highland by raising the education bar of the seminarian appli-
cants to the point of no more ‘khố’ and no more ‘rượu cần’ been
done in the name of culture, or of the Good News?
It’s true that the foreign missionaries had contributed to
the history of evangelization in this region with unfathomable
amount of sweat, tears, and blood. Their sacrifices were monu-
mental. However, their missionary methods were not as monu-
mental as their sacrifices.
Then I thought, how many omissions or errors were there,
and will be, in my own mission?
5. EVANGELICAL ENVIRONMENT ASSIMILATION 35
Bến Bọng, April 1975

I strolled in a small garden, walking back and forth praying on
my rosary. Whenever I reached the end of the garden and turned
around, a group of kids who were hiding behind the coconut
palm tree giggled. A little later, the lady of the house asked from
inside. “What are ya doin’, brother Tám, walkin’ ‘round like
that?” – “I am praying, sister.” – “Come inside, sit down and do
it then; Why walkin’ ‘round weirdly like that?”
Alas! When I was in the seminary, my lecturer used to read
his prayers walking back and forth along an endless hallway. He
also prayed on his rosary while strolling around in the seminary
yard. I’ve been doing that ever since. That has become a very fa-
miliar scene so familiar that no priest, monk, nor laity would be
surprised to look at; but today, all of a sudden, it was considered
so comical to the children and the landlady who was responsible
for ‘managing’ 3 me. I remembered a few days ago, she confided.
“I see that everything in your religion was good, but there’s one
thing that I didn’t like, that was saying prayers even in the rest
room.” Later, I had found out that she once saw a laity who went
to the toilet at noon while the midday church bells were tolling
4
... So, what’s so bad in walking and praying simultaneously, or
saying prayers during a ‘duty call’? However, would proclaim-
ing Good News like that to the locals be considered cultural as-
similation? I felt kind of stuck, so I had to write a letter to St.
Paul, the Apostle of the non-believers–
Dear Dad,
I’ve been evangelically meandering in a very small space, like a dove coo-
cooing in a cage. Even in this enclosed space, I felt totally lost. All of a sud-
den, my coo-cooing had turned laughably off-beat.
I felt so much like you had, Dad, in the days that you ran away from Macedo-
nia and ended up meandering in Athens. While strolling around, you had had
your eyes sore seeing idols all over town. You were an Israeli, a Pharisee,
hating idols like devils. You couldn’t share the Athenian’s sentiment. Athens
was an art centre. The Athenians were obsessed with art, the art of realism.
The very objects of their obsession had made you mad. You squeezed your
brain, using philosophy to flip the intellectual polytheistic bunch on the Ar-
eopagus hills... but that day was nothing but a sad memory. I understand you,
and share with you on that unanticipated trip, Dad! You were the dove that
had coo-cooed off beat in the cage of Athens. I am glad that you failed, Dad,
since only when you failed, were you like me, feeling closer to me, and loving
me... Your success would have made me feel depressed and self-disappointed.
I said what was true to my heart, Dad... So don’t be mad at me, please!
Your son P. H.
8
1
Rahde and Bhanar are two of several tribes in central highland of Vietnam.
2
Paul-Léon Seitz, MEP (1906-1984) Vicar Apostolic of Kontum from 1960 until
expelled in 1975 (?)
3
This was one of his detention days. The lady was ‘Ms Chín’ on page 115.
4
Catholics from North Vietnam habitually pray aloud when the bells tolled in
the morning, noon, and evening.
Tribal people of a Rahde hamlet, 1960
8
6. THE PANHANDLER 37
6. THE PANHANDLER
Cà Mau, July 15, 197...

SHOOK MAI’S HAND GOODBYE. “This trip is go-
ing to be long; you take care of everything, okay!”
“We’re running out of rice. Why don’t you buy a “tạ”
(132 lb.) of rice and send it back by the river bus. Buy a little
better rice this time, please! The food was bad enough, bad rice
wouldn’t go down too easy.” He smiled, while massaging his
belly with his hands as a habit.
Arriving in Cà Mau, I went directly to the rice shop. “How
much is it for a “tạ” of long-grain rice, 1 sis?”
“Eight grand.”
“How about the short, round one?” 1
“Five grand.”
The long-grain was what Mai called “a little better rice.” The
short round one was the one that “wouldn’t go down too easy.”
I counted and recounted the bills in my hands, calculating. Buy-
ing the good one–There wouldn’t be enough left for the bus fare
back. Buying the bad one–I would feel terrible for my brethren
at the station. Finally, my tongue slipped–
“Gimme a ‘tạ’ of the round one, sis!”
Cà Mau, June 16, 197...

I couldn’t sleep last night. At the moment of penance before bed-
time prayer, the round rice had kept gnawing at my conscience. I
couldn’t even buy a better rice for my brethren. By now, the bag
must have arrived at the station. What would Mai think of me–a
cheap, heartless brother, a good-for-nothing one? The food was
bad enough, bad rice wouldn’t go down too easy...
Mai was right. There were meals with only a single dish of
either bully mullets or gobi fishes simmered in fish sauce. Not a

single stem of veggie. I’ve been proud of our indigent life. But
that indigence today had turned into self-pity.
I have never stretched my hand out to beg for money from
anyone, and I had accepted monetary supports from my closest
friends only; but now, I might have to resort to panhandling and
begging for the station. Panhandling would be disgraceful, but
letting my brethren live in such a dire condition would make me
feel even worse. The food was bad enough, bad rice wouldn’t...
Suddenly, a bright light flashed up in my head. It was the
confidence of Pope Paul VI in an Evangelical Letter that I could
now recall almost entirely–”We, the Bishops, did not feel dis-
grace to beg for your help for the missionary. Jesus, our Lord,
our Teacher, had borrowed Simon’s boat to use as a preaching
platform, borrowed a donkey at Betphage to enter Jerusalem,
used Mary’s home for the last supper, and lastly, been buried in
the tomb of a friend”...
I have fought off fiercely like a chicken getting its throat cut,
and stood up valiantly–From now on, I will stretch my hand and
panhandle anyone, anywhere, feeling no shame nor disgrace.
Contributing materially to evangelization was everybody’s duty.
I will be the beggar, a valiant panhandler who offers chances for
everybody to join the evangelical mission. Those who ask and
those who give will all be reapers on the evangelizing fields!
Cà Mau, June 17, 197...

With the plan of panhandling for the development of the evan-
gelical mission in Năm Căn boiling hot in my heart, I immedi-
ately thought of a big boss on Pasteur Avenue. This morning, I
came straight to see him.
In front of me was a multi-story building. The boss was talk-
ing to someone at the corner of the courtyard. He’s big and tall.
His whole self emanated power and wealth. I didn’t know him
personally, but have heard a lot about him through his acquain-
tances. I greeted him cheerfully. “Good morning sir!”
“What’s up, priest?”
“I am a missionary evangelizing in Năm Căn, deprived in
every way. I am here to ask for your help.”
“What do you want me to help you with?”
“Our mission station has been divided into groups, each
needs a motorized boat for transportation. Would you give us a
Kohler 7, please!” 2
To that, the boss shrugged off western-stylishly, walked
straight into the hallway, and disappeared into the mansion,
leaving me standing there stupefied, flabbergasted...
An open letter to Lecturer Pastor Bùi Châu Thi–
Dear Professor,
Today, following Pope Paul VI’s example, I had valiantly stretched my hand
panhandling for the missionaries, and got shrugged off cold-heartedly. For
that, I recalled your teachings when we, the students of yours, were wearing
our pants on the seminary benches. You had taught, “The richer parishes
have to share their resources with the poorer ones”... But in real life, the
richer ones rarely opened their pouches to the poorer. They always refused
tactfully–The bigger the river, the bigger the wind, implying that the richer,
bigger parishes had so much more to get done. That’s how the gap between
the rich and the poor continued to exist, as it did right here in the heart of
the Church.
Yes, it’s true, Professor. The boss in that mansion must have had a myriad
of things to do. His deals were at international level. The pathetic “Kohler”
for the station would have trivialized his business dealings. He had said ‘No’
justifiably; I wouldn’t blame him.
Dear Professor,
I am confiding in you so you may sympathize with your students who were
being punished for carrying out your lessons of the Christian Working Youth
3
of the old days.
Năm Căn, ...15, 198...

I dropped by Hòa Thành yesterday. The Parish priest had em-
braced me and warmly introduced me to the parishioners. He
proudly said that he had asked the parishioners of Hòa Thành to
pray for Năm Căn twice a day. He also bragged that Hòa Thành
would send Năm Căn a few hundred kilos of rice every month.
That was the result of his “Evangelizing Can of Rice” campaign.
Once a month, the parishioner committee would round up ‘a can
of rice for evangelization’ from the laities’ families, bag them
up, and send it off by the river bus to Năm Căn.
From then on, Năm Căn would never have to worry about
rice shortage anymore. However, the “evangelical rice” would
be a mix bag. White rice, red rice, long-grain rice, short-grain
rice... you name it. The food was bad enough, bad rice wouldn’t
go down too easy... But that was love, and that was everybody’s
duty. That must also be the fate of the missionaries–To live fru-
gally was to live humbly, and be ready for challenges. I dreamed
of nothing more.
Cần Thơ, Oct. 20, 19...

The Bishop gave me five grand today, saying that it was a gift
for Năm Căn from an old man in Saigon. Holding five grand in
my hand, the bag of short-grain rice flashed back in my mind,
that’s exactly the same amount. From thereon, I realized that:
1. The Good News preachers have to live by the Good
News. They have to be willing to beg for help from anyone,
anywhere. Living by the Good News would not be living off
of others, but a fair exchange instead. It would be clearing up a
path for the Church to obtain its popularity.
2. Donors to the mission were commonly the humble,
simple souls who were richer at heart but not necessarily in ma-
terials.
3. Supports for the mission stations were always bare-

ly enough, and most likely a little less than enough.
4. The missionaries must always accept this “little-less-
than-enough” status quo. If they were plentifully provided with
materials, then they should have been alarmed, since they may
have been heading the wrong way.
8
1
Rice is classified mostly by the size of the grain, with long-grain is most expen-
sive, since the grains stay separate and fluffy after cooking. Medium-grain rice
is shorter and plumper, and short-grain rice is almost round, with moist grains
that stick together when cooked. Most varieties are sold as either brown or
white rice, depending upon how they are milled. Brown rice retains the bran
that surrounds the kernel, making it chewier, nuttier, and richer in nutrients.
2
A small 7-hp motor made by Kohler Inc., USA.
3
Catholic Action, known as Công Giáo Tiến Hành in Vietnam, was the name of
many groups of lay Catholics who were attempting to encourage a Catholic
influence on society. It is not a political party, although in many times and
places this distinction became blurred. Since the World War II the concept
has often been eclipsed by Christian Democrat parties that were organized to
combat Communist parties in places such as Italy and West Germany.
A ‘tắc rán’ river taxi with a 10-hp outboard motor–

or ‘máy đuôi tôm’–in the Southern provinces
8
A typical poor peasant dwelling in Ca Mau, 2008
A mother and son somewhere in Ca Mau

on a ‘be chín’ sampan. The ‘be mười’
would be a little bigger, 2008
8
7. THE GOSPEL OF ALMS OR GOSPEL OF LIBERATION 43
7. THE GOSPEL OF ALMS

OR GOSPEL OF LIBER ATION
Năm Căn, 1973

CRAWLED INTO THE HUT OF MRS. HAI’S, a family
of four mouths. Her husband was able to do only one
thing–shaping chopsticks. The oldest boy was mentally
ill. They were lucky that he was not destructive. His brain did
not work, but his stomach worked double. The resources of the
family were Mrs. Hai’s bony arms and a son of roughly fifteen.
Tools of their trade included a hammer, a handsaw, and a small
sampan. Their only trade was firewood logging in the forest il-
legally. Looking around, I found nothing more valuable than an
81-mm mortar box. All of their mosquito nets, blankets, cloth-
ing, utensils... must have been snuggly kept in there. I conducted
a quick survey. “How many stere 1 of firewood did you gather
per day, Bà (Mrs.) Hai?”
“One”
“Why didn’t you try a little harder for three or four?”
“The sampan’s too small, and the river water’s like that!”
“Why don’t you sell your ‘be chín’ sampan. I’ll lend you five
grand (~US $70 in ‘73) for a ‘be mười.’ You’d have four steres a
day, that is, you’d be four times richer. Each day you’d save two
hundred ($3). You’d pay the debt off in twenty-five days. From
thereon, the big sampan would be yours. You’d gather four steres
a day, spend one on foods, and save three for the rainy days. At
the end of the first year, you’d build a brick house. Second year,
a water tank and a well. Third year, you’d have a box bed, a TV...
Did my planning sound right to you, Bà Hai?”
“Sure. You help me, I thank you!” She said, eyes alit, grin-
ning widely, showing a set of black teeth, pathetically black...
Năm Căn, ... 1973

I crawled back into Mrs. Hai’s hut today. Her husband was
squatting at the entry, shaping chopsticks. Mrs. Hai and her son
were sawing wood at the riverbank. Seeing me, Mrs. Hai ran
back, cheerfully. “Are you all well, ông Cố?” 2
“Are you rich yet, Bà Hai? Did you save two hundred bucks
a day to pay for the debt yet?”
“I dunno why it still ain’t ‘enuf, ông Cố!”
There went my plan to enrich the poor! After a flash investi-
gation, I found out:
1. Since having the bigger sampan, Mrs. Hai and her
son had actually gotten three steres per trip. That meant she had
actually become four times richer. Economically speaking, the
financial situation of her family has been increased four hundred
percent. Wonderful!
2. However, from thereon, Mr. Hai and his son turned their
back on the hand-roll cigarettes. In each of their pockets, a pack
of bright red imported Ruby Queen ® was visible.
3. Also from thereon, the kid vendors of ‘bánh cam’ and
ice cream 3 were lovingly held captive by Mrs. Hai. “Sit tight,
kiddo. I forbid you to leave until I got tired of eating, okay!”
4. One day, a forester who was swinging a captured moni-
tor lizard on his shoulder passing by the hut got startled by a
sudden yell. “Come here! How many kilos is that?”
“Three kilos.”
“I’ll take it! Stay and drink with me, okay! Let’s have some
beer for a chance. I don’t like ‘rượu đế,’ giving such a bad
breath!”
5. Get a sampan full of wood, ‘sell’em off and spend’em
all’ before Mrs. Hai and her son would go back into the forest.
Furthermore, if something happened in the forest, or if they ran
into a lizard on the way–a superstitiously bad omen–they would
7. THE GOSPEL OF ALMS OR GOSPEL OF LIBERATION 45
call the whole week off. During those listless days, she took out
loans regardless of their interest rates; Twenty, fifty, even ninety
percent per month, who cared! The bigger sampan was such
a highly reputable collateral. Still eating “bánh cam” and ice
cream joyously. Still gloriously and visibly red Ruby Queen...
Cà Mau, 1979
The bell rang. I flung the door open. A ragged old lady with a
dark face cheerfully grabbed my hand and kissed it noisily. “Are
you all well, ông Cố? Seein’ ya, I’m numbingly happy, ông Cố!
In Năm Căn, I owed you five grand. Dunno when I can pay you
back though!”
“Ah! Is that you, Bà Hai? No, no, that’s all right! I forgave
it. I just wanted to help you to get rich, but you didn’t want to.
Nobody had fleeced you, Bà Hai. You fleeced yourself!” I said
that with a bitter note, not because I had to pay the debt of five
grand that I borrowed for her, but because my dream of helping
to enrich the poor was betrayed by the poor themselves.
Mrs. Hai now stood in front of me, poorer than she was
when I first met her in Năm Căn. She has come to ask me for
used clothes, rice, and money. “Would ông Cố give me a some
old clothes for the cuckoo to wear, please!... a few thousands to
buy medicine for the cuckoo, please!... a few cans of rice so I
can cook some porridge for the cuckoo, please!”...
Her husband had passed away. Her son, the woodchopper
in the old days, had married and moved out. Mrs. Hai has been
panhandling to feed herself and her cuckoo. The boy had be-
come bedridden, waiting to die. She had sunk to the bottom of
poverty this time. She has been, and continued to be a burden to
me. First, I had to pay for the debt that I borrowed for her. Now
since she knew where I am, she would come by frequently, and I
could never say no to her. She had no other way to survive.
The poor have also been a tremendous burden for the Church.
But, what about the Gospel of alms for the poor, or the Gospel of
liberation of the poor? This question had given me a headache.
The Church has been giving a lot to the poor. Some of them
had converted for a piece of land. But today, how were those
Catholic villages doing? I asked. A friend told me, “Just walk
along the canal, wherever the houses are all leafed, that’s where
they were!”
So, should I give alms on my missionary journey? If yes, in
what way, and with what? There’s one thing for sure though–The
poor must be liberated from poverty, illiteracy, and indolence.
But how? That question has been too difficult for me, and
perhaps for everybody...
8
1
A cubic meter (1m³ ) of wood, roughly one quarter (0.276) of a cord.
2
Literally “Great grandpa,” used to refer to the French missionaries (perhaps
for their long beards?) a colloquial still used in the South when addressing
missionaries.
3
“Bánh cam” is a homemade round caramelized puff pastry. That and ice
cream were luxury items in the far-flung countryside areas.
A man, his children, and his house in Nam Can, 2008
8
8. THE BELOVED BUDDHA 47
8. THE BELOVED BUDDHA
Cần Thơ, 1965

EGIO MARIAE 1
asked me to bless a bedridden old
lady over eighty. She had asked to be baptized. I
asked her a few questions about the religion, just
fundamentals. After being baptized, she looked up at me ear-
nestly. “Father, I’ve been a Buddhist since birth. I love the Bud-
dha so much. Now I follow Christianity, would you allow me to
keep the Buddha altar, please!”
Being only twenty-nine years old with one year of priest-
hood, I didn’t know what to do with such request. I suddenly
recalled Lecturer Pastor Lucas Huy. He had taught us, “We must
respect Buddhism. We must respect Buddha!” He even had a
small statue of Buddha on his desk. The old lady kept on beg-
ging. “The Buddha is so kind, Father. I love him so much!”
“Um... May I suggest this... Keep the Lord in the glass cabi-
net, and the Buddha as a Venerable right next to the Lord. How
does that sound to you?”
“I like that!”
“It’s okay to love Buddha. I love him too!”
Cần Thơ, 1965

I went to the Diocesan house today. “Your Excellency, I had
baptized a Buddhist old lady yesterday. She asked me for per-
mission to keep the Buddha altar. I told her to keep the statue of
the Lord inside the glass cabinet at the most prominent place in
the house, and put the statue of Buddha next to it. She believed
the Lord is supreme, but she had loved Buddha so much!”...
“It’s all right. That was a good idea!”
I left, feeling elated.
Sam Mountain, 1969

I went camping with the 9th graders on Sam Mountain. The
mountain was as mystic as it was magnificent. We all climbed up
and down happily. Pictures snapping everywhere. We dropped
by the temple. The monks were as kind as their environment,
while my students as mischievous as gremlins, turning the peace-
fully quiet temple into a noisy festival. However, the nuns and
monks were neither upset nor hostile. It seemed like they loved
my students even more than I did. They smiled forgivingly at
the mischievous plays. That’s how pagodas were–Peaceful sur-
roundings–Peaceful minds.
Tired of climbing up, we came back down to the temple.
Time for Mass. Where could we celebrate Mass? I entered the
main hall. “Venerable, is there a convenient place in the temple
that I can use for about half an hour to say Mass?”
“It wouldn’t be convenient in here, Reverend, but there’s a
big reception hall near the gate. You can say Mass there all you
want.” They lent me a table for a make-shift altar. Lights, flow-
ers, bells, all belonged to the pagoda. Only us belonged to God.
That was the first time in my life I had said Mass in a temple.
I knew the Lord must have been there with us, and loved this
place. From the reception hall, while arms spread in praying,
eyes turned upwards, I glanced out to the main hall. There, a
huge statue of Buddha was sitting in meditation amidst a forest
full of burning incense, peacefully, and lovingly...
Cần Thơ, ...

I was walking hurriedly on Nguyễn Trãi Street when a Jeep
veered right into the sidewalk, and came to a screeching halt.
“Where’re ya’ goin’, priest?”
“I’m going to Cầu Xéo!”
“Jump right in; I’ll take you there!”
Venerable Thích T. N. was a young and hyper Buddhist monk.
He’s just like us–went out camping like we did, hop-scotching

like we did, ‘knee fighting’ like we did. He offered me a Salem®.
A little spicy, a little minty.
“Hey Venerable, just kidding okay–” I asked from the Salem
smoke. “Do you guys still forbid killing?”
“Sure do! That’s the whole thing!”
“Still kidding, all right–If you were the Minister of Health,
would you condemn germicide? or if you were the Minister of
Agriculture, would you condemn insecticide? That would be all
killing!”
“He he... that would be a tough call!”
The relationship between me and Thích T. N. was just like
that–heartily open, and at times, funny. He wore brown, I wore
black; both worked with the youth in a scholarly environment. I
liked walking, he liked Jeep driving. Whenever we ran into each
other, I climbed onto his Jeep and puffed on a Salem with him.
Different religious beliefs, but all men though.
Đầm Dơi, 1974

It was the first time I came by Đầm Dơi on my way to Bàu Sen.
The sun had begun to set, yet Đầm Dơi was nowhere in sight.
The trail was covered more and more with weeds. Started to feel
cold. No idea where I was going to spend the night tonight.
Out of the blue, a pagoda appeared on the right, a Tịnh Độ
2
Buddhist pagoda. Seeing it appeared and disappeared behind
a garden, I felt a sudden warmth inside. I continued my way
to Đầm Dơi, knowing now that if I couldn’t reach Đầm Dơi, I
would come back here and ask for shelter and a meal. All pago-
das were like that–always overflowed with human love.
Somebody had once whispered to me. “Being stranded at
night in the middle of nowhere, one could never tell what would
happen knocking on a church door, but at pagodas, one would
certainly be fed with a vegetarian meal and provided with a
wood-plank bed to spend the night over.” That statement had

choked me, but it was true. Finding out why would take a lengthy
analysis though.
Cà Mau, July 20, 1975

After the Provincial Fatherland Front 3 Chairman’s lecture, I
walked out to the hallway for some fresh air. There was a brown
robe there already–Venerable Thích T. M. Being tall and wide
shouldered, he resembled my own father in the old days. May
be that’s why I felt so close to and so familiar with him when we
first met. I stood closer to him, exchanging and sharing... From
that conversation, I had again reconfirmed that the Words were
never chained down. I looked up to the Venerable as a mentor.
Cái Rắn, Jan. 14, 1995

I dropped by to see Mrs. Hai Chiếu this morning. She was
eighty-eight years old, but still clear-minded, and still got her
good sense of humor. I asked her all kinds of questions, includ-
ing those of her teenage years. She boasted. “When my man
married me, he came for the bride in three boats...” and “My
mother gave me a hen; It laid twelve eggs that hatched into elev-
en chicks. It was so exciting!”
“Why did twelve eggs hatched into eleven chicks, Bà Hai?”
“Well... one wasn’t fertilized!”
“So you threw it away, right?”
“No way... just boiled it and ate it!”
“Did you sleep well at night, Bà Hai?”
“Not much!”
“What did you do when you couldn’t sleep, Bà Hai?”
“Pray for the offspring, for the people, recite Buddha’s name
two hundred, three hundred times...”
“Did you recite one for the Parish priest of Cái Rắn?” 4
“Doing it for mankind is enough.”
“No way. You have to do it exclusively for me; Ten, or fifty

times at least, Bà Hai!”
“Mô Phật 5 one, Mô Phật two... Mô Phật fifty!”
“Thank you, Bà Hai!”
“Here’s another fifty for you. Mô Phật one, Mô Phật two...
Mô Phật fifty!” She still wanted to do more for me. I hastily cut
her off. “Are you afraid of dying, Bà Hai?”
“Nope!”
“Where would you go after death?”
“I dunno!”
“You will come back to God, Bà Hai! You’ve got to remem-
ber to pray for me, all right?”
“Mô Phật one, Mô Phật two...”
8
1
The Legion of Mary, or Legio Mariae in Latin, is an association of Catholic
laities who serve the Church on a voluntary basis. It was founded in Dublin,
Ireland, as a Roman Catholic Marian Movement by layman Frank Duff, and
has today over three million active members worldwide. The number of the
auxiliary members is estimated to about ten million. The main apostolate of
the Legion consists in activities directed towards all men and women, young
and old, rich and poor as well as people from the margins of society (home-
less, prostitutes, prisoners etc.) and towards non-Catholics. The members of
the Legion are primarily engaged in the performance of the Spiritual Works of
Mercy rather than works of material aid.
2
Tịnh Độ Tông, Amidism or Pure Land Buddhism, is the most popular form of
Mahayana Buddhism in East and South East Asia today, including Vietnam.
Pure Land schools believe that rebirth in Sukhavati (Western Paradise, Pure
Land, or Tây Phương Cực Lạc) is given to those who invoke Amitabha’s name
with sincere devotion.
3
As part of the Religious Leaders’s re-education program after the fall of
Saigon. More recently, in the International Religious Freedom Report -
2008, the US Department of State stated: “...The Government continued its
oversight and, with varying degrees of success, exerted control over religious
hierarchies and activities through Committees for Religious Affairs at the
national and provincial levels.” – Also, in the UN Report on Freedom of
Religion in Vietnam submitted on March 16, 1999, Mr. Abdelfattah Amor, the
U.N. Special Rapporteur stated: “Freedom of religion or belief is guaranteed
by article 70 of the Constitution of 15 April 1992 in the following terms: ‘The
citizen has the right to freedom of belief, of religion, to embrace or not to
embrace any denomination. Religions are equal before the law. The places
reserved for the worship of the various beliefs and religions are protected by
the law.’ However, this same article 70 also provides: ‘It is forbidden to violate
freedom of belief, of religion, or to take advantage of it to act against the law
or the policies of the State.’ The Special Rapporteur has some queries about
this provision, which establishes the principle of the priority of the policies of
the State, a vague and extendable concept that could be potentially restrictive
of religious freedom and its manifestations. This concern proves to be quite
legitimate when, in connection with the policy of the State and its impact on
freedom of religion, reference is made to article 4 of the Constitution, which
states that ‘The Communist Party of Viet Nam ... following Marxism-Leninism
and the thought of Ho Chi Minh, is the guiding force of the State and of society.’
These two articles, by their wording and their association, are likely to impede
freedom of religion or even reduce it to very little indeed”...
The Institute on Religion and Public Policy Report - Religious Freedom in

Vietnam (2009) concludes: “In order to promote genuine religious freedom
and protect basic human rights, the Vietnamese government should amend
Article 30 of its constitution so that it is consonant with the provision in Article
70 which guarantees freedom of religion as well international human rights
standards. Such an amendment would prevent Vietnamese officials from hav-
ing a legal basis by which to discriminate against religious expression. The
Vietnamese government should also hold local administrators, police forces,
and State media responsible when they fail to protect, misrepresent, or actively
persecute peaceful religious communities. Likewise, governmental confisca-
tion of land and property from religious groups and ethnic minorities grossly
violates basic human rights specified in their own constitution. In order for
Vietnam to be a respectable member of the global community, freedom of reli-
gion and corresponding human rights must be upheld not only in the constitu-
tion, but at the administrative and practical level.”

4
That was himself at the time.
5
An abbreviation of ‘Nam-Mô A-Di-Đà-Phật,’ the Vietnamese version of
‘NAMO Amitabha,’ the Pure Land’s Buddhist Buddha-name recitation.
8
9. SABBATH FOR THE PEOPLE 53
9. SABBATH FOR THE PEOPLE
Năm Căn, Aug. 16, 1971

R. CHÍN KIỂU must be in his seventies. He owned a
teahouse right in front of the mission station. Af-
ter classes, I used to go there to chat with him. Even
though the conversation was casual, the subject has been swirl-
ing like a spiral. Today, the spiraling ended. I shot straight. “I
heard that you were a Catholic?”
“That’s right. When I was young, I was a Catholic like you.
But I stopped Confession for the last few decades.”
“So you’re invited to my incoming Sunday Mass then!”
My words seemed to strike him like a thunderbolt, shaking
his world. Mr. Chín bursted out crying, tears streaming down his
cheeks. His lips twitched like those in seizure. I froze stiff with
fear... Five minutes later; when Mr. Chín finally recomposed, he
told me his life story–
“My father was born a Catholic. He left Hòa Thành, came
to Cái Keo for business start-ups. His children all cross-mar-
ried with non-Catholics. For that, the Parish priest of Hòa Thành
penalized him by revoking his right to Confession and Com-
munion. When he had become very old and no longer in good
health, and knowing that he couldn’t live much longer, he rowed
his sampan for 30 kilometers (18.64 miles) from here to Hòa Thành,
spending the whole week of Lent begging for Confession and
Communion... to no avail. After that, he had rowed back home,
fell into deep depression, and died. He was not even allowed to
be buried in the Catholic cemetery...” To that, he bursted out cry-
ing again. Then with a resentful voice, lips twitching, he asked.
“What had my father done for the Church to coldheartedly tor-
ture him, shoo him off until the end of his days, and hate him
even after death?”...

The air seemed to run out of oxygen. I bid him goodbye and
left, feeling so sad.
Năm Căn, Aug. 17, 1971

I dropped by to see Mr. Chín Kiểu today, hoping to ease his pain
somehow. There was a necklace with a flashy Buddha statue on
his neck. That was it. The path to his heart was barricaded with
barbed wire. He must have worn a statue of Buddha to decisive-
ly refuse coming back to God. He wore one to warn me, “From
now on, don’t even try to talk me into coming back.”
After so many years of painful torture, Mr. Chín must have
felt relieved now. He may sleep peacefully from now on. In his
dreams, his fingers may subconsciously caress the ever-forgiv-
ing Buddha... I still couldn’t sleep. A nagging pain just began,
and it may tear me up for the rest of my life...
My thoughts wandered back to the old days. At a mission
station, Mrs. Năm encouraged her immediate family members
to convert, but she kept dragging on when it came to her own
conversion. When I cornered her, she divulged. “When I was
young, many people in my village had converted. The French
priest ordered all converts to get rid of their ancestors’ altars. 1
After a festive ceremony of baptism, he dropped by to visit each
one. At a home, he froze at the door, stomping his feet ‘bet, bet,’
yelling, Why didn’t you get rid of that altar? He insisted, and
refused to step into the house until the altar had been brought
out to the yard...”
Mrs. Năm’s story went on much longer. But thinking of the
moment when the ancestors’ altar was thrown out, I felt bit-
terness in my mouth, and a lump in my throat. Now I under-
stood Mr. Chín Kiểu’s feeling. He has been a dutiful son. For
the love of his father, he had deeply resented the Church. The
Parish priest at Hòa Thành had upheld the rules with no regard
9. SABBATH FOR THE PEOPLE 55
to people’s feelings. Only Mr. Chín could have understood that

his father had no choice but having his children marrying non-
Catholics simply because he had lived in a non-Catholic region.
Again, it was only Mr. Chín who bore witness to the emotional
pain of an old man who had had his Confession and Communion
denied to the end of his life. Only Mr. Chín could have felt the
pain of having the request to bury his father in the Catholic cem-
etery–as his father had always dreamed of–flatly denied.
The Parish priest, after revoking the old man’s right to Con-
fession and Communion, must have still felt good inside, and
after refusing the request for the old man to be buried in the
Catholic cemetery, still been at peace with his conscience, since
those were the rules, the laws of the Church.
I asked myself bitterly. Laws for the sake of laws, or laws for
the sake of people? People for the Sabbath, or Sabbath for the
people? Should such pastoral methods be upheld? And do mis-
sionaries have the right to impose such pastoral methods upon
the new converts?
8
1
Vietnam currently has six officially recognized religions: Buddhism, Ca-
tholicism, Protestantism, Islam, and two indigenous religious traditions that
emerged during the colonial period: Cao Dai and Hoa Hao. The Mahayana
tradition of Buddhism is dominant in Vietnam, and over 70 percent of Viet-
namese consider themselves at least nominally Buddhist. However, denomina-
tional variations aside, the core of religious practice for almost all Vietnamese
is the worship of spirits. The most important spirits are the souls of the ances-
tors. Almost all families have altars in their homes where they perform rites
for family ancestors, especially on the ancestors’ death anniversaries and the
Lunar New Year.
The most important ritual event in Vietnamese society is the celebration of the
Lunar New Year (Tết Nguyên Đán) when families gather to welcome the coming
of the new year and pay their respects to family ancestors. The first and fifteenth
of every month (ngày rằm) in the twelve month lunar year are also important oc-
casions for rites to ancestors, spirits, and Buddhist deities. Other common days
for rites are the death anniversaries of family ancestors, historical figures, or Bud-
dhist deities; the fifteenth of the third lunar month (Rằm Tháng Ba) when family
members clean ancestral graves (tảo mộ); and the fifteenth of the seventh lunar
month (Rằm Tháng Bảy) which is Vietnamese All Soul’s Day.
Vietnamese conduct rites in a variety of sacred spaces. These include family an-
cestral altars, lineage halls, a variety of shrines dedicated to spirits, communal
houses that hold the altars of village guardian spirits, temples of Buddhist or other
affiliations, Christian churches, and mosques.
The country also has many shrines and temples that hold annual festivals that
pilgrims and interested visitors attend, often from great distances. Among the more
famous are the Perfume Pagoda in the north, the Catholic shrine at La Vang in the
center, and the Cao Dai Temple in the south.
French missionaries in Saigon - Photo by Jack Birns, LIFE Magazine, July 1948
8
10. AFTER A MEETING 57
10. AFTER A MEETING
Cà Mau, 1977
CAME TO VISIT PASTOR XUÂN PHONG TODAY and
gave him a squeaky new Bible. I boasted, “To me, this
is the best Bible ever, both in printing technology and
explanatory footnotes!”
He held it up, gingerly examined it for a while, then sol-
emnly turned the pages. Suddenly, he startled. “A Bible of this
magnitude yet translated and footnoted by only one clergyman
Nguyễn Thế Thuấn? Not a translation committee?”
Totally lost at that, I switched the subject. The conversation
meandered on from culture to science to politics... and back to
evangelization and the Bible. I praised. “Your Protestant Church
is so rich, having the Bible printed by the millions and giving
them away free to the faithful!”
“You know what, actually, the Roman Catholic Church was
much richer than ours,” he said. “But whatever you guys got,
you spent it all on towers and bells, only to end up having noth-
ing left for Bible printing!”
Lost again, and switching the subject again.
After the meeting, I felt a lump in my throat. I remembered
when I was a seminarian, Lecturer Pastor Bùi Châu Thi had once
lamented during class. “The Church has a basketful of B.A. in
Theology, but none would sit together to carry out the transla-
tion tasks. Everyone did it in his own way. A man’s lamp shines
solely his own home. The Episcopate Council 1 supposedly could
have done that, but I don’t know why they have not” That confi-
dence had haunted me ever since. None would sit together...
That was the truth, a sad truth. That’s why I had to raise the
white flag without a single shot of resistance after receiving the
first mortar from the Pastor.

The Jerusalem Bible, TOB, 2 had a fully staffed consulting
and translating department. Not here in Vietnam. There were
someone, though nonprofessional, who put all of their efforts
in translating and publishing a complete set of Scriptures. The
books later sold out, but no one expected it to be reprinted any-
time soon. Now Nguyễn Thế Thuấn, an expert in Scripture The-
ology, had translated and published a set of Scriptures under
laudable circumstances. However, ones had to admit that his
translation, even though scientifically valuable, had a Vietnam-
ese composition that was so bumpy. Reading his translation was
like driving on a road full of potholes. There may conceivably
be more translations in the future, each would have some pluses
and minuses.
When would the Bible experts in Vietnam sit together to
translate and offer the readers a version with maximum pluses
and minimum minuses?
Regarding the notion that the Catholics were too busy build-
ing bell towers and spending all the money on bells only to end
up having nothing left for the Bible printing, I just didn’t know
what to say to that. The Pastor’s second mortar was so unex-
pected that I didn’t have enough time to counteract.
The ding-dongs of the bells during holidays have excited
everybody’s hearts. Those were like the sound of the Lord
calling and his faithful children to gather and recalling those
who were lost. There were so many souls who had left, forgotten,
or abandoned the Lord for so many years only to come back
unexpectedly just because of those miracle calls. The echoing
successive rings from a tall bell tower have been representing
a voice announcing the Christian communities’ belief. It has
become part of our souls, of our culture, and so familiar that
most Catholics simply could not have done without it.
However, in reality, each tower took two-fifths of the church
building budget, and inside those tall and expensive towers,
10. AFTER A MEETING 59
there were just a few bells and a whole lot of bats. Nobody sat in
there for Mass anyway.
Building a tall tower to emphasize the authoritative im-
age of the House of God has been justifiably desirable. Paying
for big bells to encourage the faithful to come to the Mass has
been logically recommended. But if building tall towers only to
render the Church incapable of providing each follower, each
family with a Bible, then this issue must be reexamined. Being
obsessed with tall bell towers to the point of forgetting the need
of reading the Words in families and in private lives must be
reconsidered.
And if there were a community of God that has a tall tow-
er, big bells, and the Bible in the hands of each faithful, then I
would embrace it, and send it back to my friend Pastor Xuân
Phong as a counter-gift.
But I haven’t found that mortar yet!
8
1
The Council or Committee of Bishops.
2
The Traduction Oecuménique de la Bible TOB (Ecumenical Translation of
the Bible), French ecumenical translation of the Bible, made in 1975-1976
by Catholics and Protestants. The participation of the Orthodoxies was not
large but an important one, because translation based on the Hebrew text of
the Old Testament, but not the Septuagenarian text. The project was initiated
by the Dominicans, and it was revision of the Jerusalem Bible. The TOB was
published by the Éditions du Cerf and United Bible Societies. In spite of the
Jerusalem Bible, the TOB did not received an imprimatur.
11. BIBLE READING 61
11. BIBLE READING
Cà Mau, ...
WAS READING ‘THE VIOLENT LAND’ 1 by Jorge Ama-
do. I stopped at the story about the “Colonel” Antonio
family’s Bible reading. The title Colonel, in this case,
only meant a rich plantation owner.
Antonio’s wife was a faithful Catholic. Every night, she
gathered everyone in the house for her Bible reading. After she
died, the family tradition had been carried on by her daughter
respectfully in her memory.
One day, Antonio felt that his plantation wasn’t big enough.
He fixed his eyes onto the plantation across the narrow valley.
He wanted to merge it with his. He wondered what God would
think of that. That night, he asked his daughter: “See if there’s
any indication that God wants me to have the plantation on the
other side of the valley!” His daughter opened the book, and
read him a citation. He shook his head. His daughter opened an-
other book, and read him another one. He shook his head again.
Finally, his daughter opened the Book of Joshua and read the
story of Joshua sending his army across the Jordan River, suc-
cessfully surrounded and overtook Jericho as God commanded.
2
He nodded his head in success. “That’s it, sweetheart!” Next
morning, before dawn, he commanded his troops across the val-
ley and overtook his friend’s plantation. His conscience was to-
tally at ease, saying. “Those were the words of the Lord”...
Just reading the Bible? That’s not enough! One must read
it with a certain mindset. In the Middle Ages, people used one
phrase in the Psalms as a marching order for the Crusaders to re-
take Jerusalem, and consequently started a war that dragged on
for two centuries (1096-1270). Exurge, Domine! Arise, O Lord!
The war was one of the worse mistakes of the Roman Catholic
Church.
There were still wrong ways to read the Bible. Some have
not denied themselves to follow God, but wanted God to deny
himself to follow them instead. They twisted his words around
to use them for their own benefits. Now I understood the words
If anyone wants to be my follower, let him deny himself.
The way we read the Bible was more important than the act
of Bible reading itself.
Learning how to read the Bible was more important than just
buying one and reading it.
Cà Mau, 1975
Brother Ba Hiến asked me to participate in the Sharing the Word
of the Lord class of Quản Long parish.
A young lady gave me a booklet in English. The writer had
objected blood transfusion of the modern science, based on a
statement in Leviticus. “You shall not eat anything with the
blood”... Oh my! People did do funny things in the name of God.
I assumed that the writer had read the Gospel a lot, only to ex-
plain it for his own convenience.
Reading the Words might not necessarily be comprehending
the Words. Comprehending the Words might not necessarily be
understanding God. In order to be able to read, comprehend,
and understand the words of God, we must deny ourselves com-
pletely. We must be humble like a God seeker who hasn’t found
God yet.
I am sick of the phenomena of–
“In the name of the Lord, I hereby annihilate thee!”...
“In the name of the Lord, I hereby object the patients’ blood
transfusion!”...
“In the name of the Lord, I hereby sentence these heretics to
death by fire!”...
Cà Mau, ...
I often shared the Words of God with Nga, a Protestant teacher.
After a session of sharing, she stayed for Mass before leaving.
Today she asked me, “Father, let me have the Eucharist. Attend-
ing Mass without the blessing of Eucharist was kind of weird!”
“Why don’t you ask your Pastor to see what he’d say. The
Protestant Church doesn’t believe in the Eucharist.”
Nga was an honest person. She consciously regretted the
division of Christianity. She fervently preached about Jesus.
She once advised a Catholic student to quit procrastinating and
come back to the position of an altar boy. To Nga, the most criti-
cal matter in proclaiming the Gospel is neither Catholicism nor
Protestantism, but Jesus Christ. Nga knew how to deny her own
interpretation in Gospel reading.
Cà Mau, ...
I was preparing to put on my chasuble 3 when a man poked his
head into the dressing room.
“I want to see Father Hậu!”
“I’m him.”
“There’s a letter from Việt Hưng in Cần Thơ for you. Việt
Hưng recommended that I see you. He is a former student of
yours at Đồng Tâm High School.”
“I’ll see you after Mass then.”
After Mass, when I was taking off the chasuble, he poked in
again. He must have waited for an entire Mass.
“Sorry, but I’m busy again. Can I see you at eight o’clock
this evening?”
“All right!”
He gave me the letter, and left, head hang low.
He showed up at the parish house at eight o’clock sharp. I
took him upstairs.
“I am an atheist. You are a priest. But we may talk freely,
fearing no one.” He said.

“Of course.” I reassured him.
“Brother, I believe that your religion has the truth, since it
had survived for twenty centuries; Otherwise, it would have
been long gone. But I still don’t know exactly what it is. I’ve
read a lot of books about your religion, but I still couldn’t fig-
ure it out. For example, two books from the same writer, Vic-
tor Hugo, were so contradictory about the religion–The Notre
Dame De Paris 4 had shown that your religion were so dirty, but
yet, Les Miserables 5 painted it magnificently. Now, is there any
way you can help me understand your religion correctly?”
“Just read the Gospel. Read Jesus. The truth of the religion
was not in literature, but in the Gospel. Jesus is the religion. The
Church was merely one of many who were on the journey to
rediscover Jesus.”
“But I couldn’t find any Gospel book in the bookstores!” 7
“Of course not. And you probably knew why. Even me my-
self, if I want one, I wouldn’t know where to find it!”
We talked until ten that night before he left.
Before falling asleep, I thought of the night when the Su-
preme Master chatted with Rabbi Nicodemo. 6
I offered this friend to Him.
8
1
Terras do Sem Fim - The Violent Land; 1943, a novel by Jorge Amado.
2
Book of Joshua is the sixth book in the Old Testament, covering the history of
Israel from the possession of the Promised Land to the Babylonian captivity.
3
A long sleeveless vestment worn over the alb by a priest during services.
4
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Notre Dame de Paris) is an 1831 French
novel written by Victor Hugo.
5
The Miserable Ones (Les Miserables) another novel by Victor Hugo, is one of
the best-known novels of the 19th century. It has been described as one of the
greatest novels ever written in any language.
6
Colloquium Christi cum Nicodemo – St. John the Evangelist says that Nicode-
mus was by profession a Pharisee, a prince of the Jews, a master in Israel, and
a member of the Sanhedrim, where he one day attempted to oppose his col-
leagues by speaking in defense of Jesus. This act brought down upon him the
disdainful retort from the others. From the Gospel account, he possessed great
riches, and used nearly a hundred pounds of myrrh and spices for the burial
of Christ. The name of Nicodemus is mentioned in the Talmud also; and, al-
though it was known that his attachment to Christ was great, he is, neverthe-
less, spoken of with honor. But this fact may be due to his great wealth. There
were, says the Hebrew book, three eminent men in Jerusalem: Nicodemus ben
Gurien, ben Tzitzith Hacksab, ben Kalba Shevuah, each of whom could have
supported the whole city for ten years, (John 3:1-10, 7:50-52, 19:39)
7
The Bible Society’s activities started in Vietnam in the 1890s, with the frequent
visits from the British and Foreign Bible Society (BFBS) based in Hong Kong.
Later a BFBS depot was set up in Saigon (at 45, Route Fédérale, Gia Dinh),
to serve the Scripture needs in what was then French Indochina.
The first Vietnamese Bible was published in 1926. The translator was a mis-
sionary from the Christian and Missionary Alliance. This Bible has so far been
the best-seller of the Vietnamese Bible.
The Bible Society in Vietnam was founded in 1966 in Saigon and mostly served
the Scripture needs in South Vietnam.
In 1974, the Bible Society in Vietnam organized a translation workshop in

Dalat. Leaders from both Protestant and Catholic Churches were invited to
attend the workshop led by UBS, the United Bible Societies’ translation con-
sultants. An inter-confessional translation committee was formed to start a
new translation project in common Vietnamese.
When the ‘Vietnam War’ came to an end in April 1975 with the victory of the
communists, the Bible Society office was closed, and the Bible Society activi-
ties were interrupted for more than 15 years.
After the visit of one of the UBS Consultants in 1990, one of the Evangelical
Church pastors in Hanoi obtained permission from the government to import
5,000 copies of the Vietnamese Bible from Korea.
In 1991, another Evangelical Church leader obtained permission from the

government to print Bibles in Vietnam. The first 5,000 copies were printed in
Ho Chi Minh City, and a celebration marking the release of this first print run
was held in the Danang Evangelical Church on Easter morning in 1992. This
was the beginning of the re-establishment of the Bible work in Vietnam.
Almost at the same time, when UBS representatives visited Vietnam in 1991,
they discovered that the Catholic members of the translation team took risks
during these restricted years continuing their work, and completed the whole
Bible, according to UBS translation principles learnt at the Dalat’s workshop
in 1974. The Bible in Vietnamese Common Language was published and dedi-
cated in 1993, which is now widely used among Vietnamese Catholics.
Since, over 450,000 copies of Bibles and 300,000 copies of New Testament
have been printed and distributed to the Protestants, and over 250,000 copies
of Bibles and 1,900,000 copies of New Testament for the Catholics Church,
which makes a total of more than 700,000 copies of Bible and 2,200,000 cop-
ies of the New Testament.
Presently, although there is no official Bible Society office in Vietnam, the

ministry of the Bible Society is organized as a partnership between the Church
in Vietnam and the United Bible Societies. The UBS is working closely with
national Church leaders to plan the publishing and printing of the Scriptures.
The Churches are responsible for distribution. Beside Bibles and New Testa-
ments, Scripture portions have also been produced every year for youth, chil-
dren, new readers (especially among ethnic minorities) and Visually Impaired
Persons.
The Revised Vietnamese Bible project started in 1998 is now in the last stage.
A translation team of 3 Vietnamese pastors has been working on this proj-
ect with assistance from UBS Translation Consultants. This Revised Bible is
scheduled to be launched in 2011, when the Protestant Church celebrates its
centennial (Biblevietnam.org)
8
12. A PRIEST OF WHOM? 67
12. A PRIEST OF WHOM?
Saigon, 1984
ODAY IS SUNDAY; I attended Mass at the Redemptorist
Mission’s church. Attending Mass here was to see pas-
toral activities, listen to the Mission priests’ preaching,
choir’s singing, and to see flower arrangements. I arrived early
to be able to see more; But what I came for wasn’t there yet, but
what I didn’t expect to see was–
The churchyard was soaking wet after a pouring rain. Over
thirty beggars had formed two long rows from the gate to the
church’s main entrance. They bowed all the way down, or laid
down right in the puddles to dramatize to the max a reality that
was already horrible enough by itself. The lepers intentionally
put red antiseptic deliberately onto the wounds that were actual-
ly the size of the snail’s aperture. They transformed themselves
voluntarily into heaps of rags with souls, and ready to exchange
dignity for mercy.
The bells tolled urgently. Throngs of Catholic faithful poured
into the church like a turbulent swift-flowing stream. The rag
heaps suddenly sprang up, swinging back and forth, kowtowing
like a pack of ghosts. The darkened dry branches of arms were
all reaching up, grabbing the perfumed bills falling from the
white velvety hands. One has to acknowledge that the faithful
here were all dressed way up. The huge crowd was like a forest
full of flowers. The most modern fashions were all shown here,
including mini-skirts. Perfumes lingered over the churchyard,
overwhelming the fishy smell of the beggars...
The Mass had begun. The throng stopped. The two rows of
beggars scattered... Each one finds a place to sit down, and be-
gins counting their money gleefully.
I was the last one who came inside, and perhaps the most inat-
tentive one. I was proud that the church had represented char-
ity, and thus attracted that many beggars. I was also proud that
the children of God here were as generous as they were rich
and beautiful. Bills of alms giving had rained down like autumn
leaves. But I was so embarrassed of the fact that, out there, the
raggedy bunch with souls were children of God too! Was the
Church the generous rich, or the panhandling poor? Shouldn’t
the Church be where everyone had enough to eat and clothe
themselves without having to beg each other?
For the last twenty centuries, the Church was known to be a
generous one, but it could barely fed the poor and not eradicat-
ing poverty. The poor have been pitied, but not respected yet.
Cà Mau, 1984
Ring... Ring... Ring... Three long bell rings woke up the whole
parish house. Those who ring in this manner must be close ac-
quaintances; it must be either Brother Ba Hiến or Brother Mười
Râu. I rushed downstairs like a sliding rock. The door flung
wide open.
“Gimme few hundred bucks, priest. I’m starving!”
“Um... You’re not too lucky. If you only came yesterday, I
could have given you something. Today, I’m broke!”
“A f... priest with no money?” The man threw me a hateful
look, then walked away.
Caught by a total surprise, I didn’t have time to feel insulted.
I just stood there, flabbergasted.
I got no money, that’s the truth; but a truth that was hard for
him to swallow. I haven’t had a penny on me, but I still wore a
German-made pair of glasses worth almost VN $200,000, and
on my wrist, a Seiko “5” that would equal one tenth of an ounce
of fine gold. I was still living in an old mansion with many ame-
nities. I still loved the poor, and have been helping the poor,
12. A PRIEST OF WHOM? 69
giving away some old clothes here, a few thousand there, or

even tens of thousands... but I have never had to put a curb on
my dining or clothing for the poor. That meant I just gave them
my excess, but never shared my necessities. I only lived for the
poor, but never brave enough to live with the poor. Living with
the poor is living for them in the truest sense. Only when we live
with the poor we may actually feel their plight, and feel the urge
to liberate them from poverty.
Three quarters of the world’s population have been and still
being in poverty, and being poor is still a grave sin, since pov-
erty begot illiteracy, misery, and indignity.
I would never have enough money to eradicate poverty. I
was not brave enough to live with the poor. I am not a priest of
the poor, nor a priest for the poor, nor a priest with the poor. So,
who am I, a priest of whom? My conscience would probably
gnaw me to death.
Rev, Ngo Phuc Hau and his ‘Stall of Worship’ at Cai Ran, 1997
8
13. THE MONKS’ OUTFITS 71
13. THE MONKS’ OUTFITS
Năm Căn, May 25, 1971

ODAY, IWENTOUTLOOKINGFORCATHOLICS, andthrough
them, I might reach the non-Catholics. How could I find
them? I just put on my cassock and strolled along the
riverbank. Out of the blue, somebody shouted. “Father!”
“Are you Catholic?”
“Yes!”
Mr. Năm took out his wallet and showed me the picture of
St. Anthony. It was folded in four, old and torn. For a longest
time, Mr. Năm had kept his faith for himself and dared not
to show it to the outside world. To him, his Catholic faith
was synonymous with crucifixion. 1 There was no sign of
Catholicism in his shack–no cross, no picture of Virgin Mary.
But in his mind, there were aways loving memories of the
faith, and among them, the black cassocks. Today, if I didn’t
put on the black cassock, I wouldn’t be able to find him.
Oh cassock, I don’t like your mournful black color, but
I need you. Thanks to you that, today, I found my beloved
brothers who were washed up on this heterogeneous land of
Năm Căn...
Cà Mau, ...
Today I heard a casual, but meaningful news. A French Arch-
bishop, after a stroll on Saigon streets, had wrote to Bishop
Paul Nguyễn Văn Bình. “Please order the priests not to wear
cassocks on the street; It was totally out of place! They should
have dressed casually like everyone else!”
I thought, well, it may look ‘out of place’ to the Western-
ers, but certainly not to us. But for sure priests and monks
must find a lifestyle that was as casual as everyone else’s.

Jesus must have blended in with his people that way.
The issue here was not wearing the cassock or not, but
becoming common among the commoners–sins not includ-
ed–in order to take them back to Christ.
Cái Rắn, September 19, 1995

Today I received a letter from an old friend whom I’ve never
met. He advised me to wear a clergyman’s shirt instead. He
attached two clippings from the Catholicism and the Nation
Weekly, one picture of Rev. Huỳnh Công Minh wearing a
clergy shirt with a note–“Neat and beautiful!” and another
of Rev. Ngô Đình Phán in casuals with–“Can’t tell if he’s a
priest?” He then elaborated–
1. The cloth doesn’t make the man; but a priest must dress as a priest,
like soldiers wearing their uniforms.
2. Cassocks had won popular respect. The Buddhist monks always

wore their robes, and even had their heads shaved, so what’s the big deal
(in dressing as clergymen)?
3. Wearing cassocks would help priests and monks to protect them-

selves like armors protecting soldiers.
4. The old-style cassocks were too cumbersome, hindering movement.

The clergy shirt was neat, beautiful, and distinguishable. Pinning a little
cross to the front pocket would be wonderful!
The letter of the old friend made me feel uncomfortable,

because since January 5, 1975, I’ve been wearing the cas-
sock within the church facilities and for ritual performances
only. 2 I had two clergy shirts made, but haven’t found the
right clerical collar yet.
So I drafted an letter to my old friend, a letter that was never
sent–
13. THE MONKS’ OUTFITS 73
Dear Brother Mạnh,
I have read your letter. I did not know what to do, since I have not worn
the cassocks or clergy shirts as you had suggested. I have not even de-
cided to do that or not. Here, I just want to share with you some of my
life experience regarding wearing or not wearing the cassock, so we may
muse on them together–
1. In 1947, I joined the Junior Seminar. My uniform back then was a

black “áo dài.” One day, I walked by a non-Catholic village. A group of
water-buffalo-boys spontaneously formed a demonstration. Their only
slogan was “Down with the áo dài!”... I ran away, head hung low with
fear and embarrassment. When I got far away from them, the “down
with...” slogan still stuck to the back of my long dress...
2. In 1994, I traveled to the furthest south of the country with twelve

Sisters from the Congregation of the Lovers of the Holy Cross. None of
us dressed in our clerical clothing. I sat in the front row. Behind me was
a teacher-aid nun. A conversation from behind was overheard. “Take my
seat, auntie! I can stand.” – “Oh yeah, are you a nun?” – “How did you
know?” – “You’re so kind, and your face look kinda’ meek.”...
3. In 1989, I went to Hanoi. The Danang–Hanoi express bus arrived

at Kim Liên station at 2 a.m. Too early. Too dark. Fear engulfed. I got off
the bus at 4:00 a.m., went to town for a cup of coffee, then took a “cyclo”
to the main cathedral for Mass. After Mass, I went to the Diocesan House
to see Cardinal Căn. 3 It was breakfast time, so I was invited to the table.
Strangely, I felt so lonely since everyone was in cassocks, except me. Af-
ter the breakfast, Bishop Thuận tugged at my shirt, whispering in my ear,
“Put on your cassock please; the Cardinal would like that.”... I said “Yes
sir!” verbally, but mentally looking for an exit, since I didn’t bring any
cassock with me; and I did run away to avoid the embarrassment. Going
back to Sơn Tây, I was still in my short-sleeve shirt. During my evening
prayer in the chapel that night, I heard a gentle sound in the back. Turn-
ing around, I saw a cassock laid across the pew’s back. I took that as a
gentle reminder. I came back to the Hanoi Diocesan House two years
later. There were four of us standing in front of Archbishop Thuận’s office,
talking–The Archbishop himself, Bishop Tùng Cương, 4 Reverend Sinh,
and me. A bell ring abruptly came from the dining room. “Oh dear! can
I come to the dining room without a cassock?” Bishop Tùng Cương, in
clergy shirt, uttered with both arms in the air. “Your Excellency just have
to follow the Archbishop’s example!” Father Sinh pointed to Archbishop
Thuận. I turned to look at Archbishop Thuận: No cassock, no clergy shirt,
black trousers, black clergy shirt opened at the neck with no clerical col-
lar. That day, nobody in the dining room were in priestly clothing, since
the Cardinal was no longer there...
4. In 1982, when I came to Cây Quéo church, I saw the Parish priest
leisurely pedaling around in his weathered cassock. Behind him was a
Buddhist monk wearing an ochre robe. What a lovely sight!
8
1
In 1971, Nam Can was not a good place to be a Christian.
2
Author Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau was apprehended and detained by the Viet
Cong on January 05, 1975 as previously mentioned. He was conditionally
released (tạm tha) on June 12, 1975. One of those conditions was to wear
clerical outfits during church rituals and within church facilities only.
3
Joseph-Marie 4
Joseph
Cardinal Trinh Van Can Bishop Nguyen Tung Cuong
(1921-1990) (1919-1999)
8
14. MEANDERING ON VATICAN II 75
14. MEANDERING ON VATICAN II
Saigon, 1962
AIGON SEMINARY was welcoming Bishop Trần văn Thiện
who just came back from Rome today, full of stories
about the Vatican II Council. The stories he told were as
fresh and hot as new bricks coming out of a kiln; but to me, the
most interesting story was a sideline one–
“...The speakers were all lecturing in Latin. Their Latin
linguistic levels were pretty much the same, but their accents
were terrible, especially the American’s, only God could
understand! Anyway, I already had a copy of it in French, so
listening or not didn’t matter. Getting sleepy from sitting still for
too long, I went down to the refreshment area right underneath
the platforms. There, I ran into a Peruvian Bishop who was also
a slacker. I said hi to him. He spoke Spanish to my deaf ears. I
spoke French to his. At last, we resorted to our broken Latin,
which was barely enough to know what the other said. “What’s
the population of your region?”
“A million and a half.”
“How many Christians amongst that?”
“A million and a half, of course. One full hundred percent!”
“So, how many priests you have in your region?”
“Thirteen; Or fourteen, including me.”
“?!...”
That was the real situation of Catholics in Latin America.
“There must be a Council to redo everything.” Almost half of
the world’s Catholic population was in Latin America, but the
Catholicism there was rather feeble.
Wasn’t it about time to reexamine the evangelization meth-
ods in the region?
Hanoi, 1993
I went to Hanoi Seminary today. There, I coincidently ran into
Rev. Chí who has just arrived from Saigon. In Hồ Ngọc Cẩn
High school, he was one year behind me. Separated for almost
forty years, we now had so many stories to share, one after an-
other, all in a random order... Meandering for a while, we came
to the subject of the Council. Father Chí told me a story–
“It was during winter. The winter over there was terribly
cold, so all windows were tightly shut. Keeping the windows
shut helped keep the room warm, but made it smell so strong.
That day, Pope John XXIII received a Cardinal. The Pope
declared his wish of launching a Council––the Second Vatican
Council. The Cardinal asked, astonishing. ‘What do you want to
open a Council for, Your Excellency?’
‘For what huh? Look here!’... The Pope stood up and opened
the windows for the fresh air to come in. ‘See! See!... It’s so
stuffy in here!”
I didn’t know if Rev. Chí told me a true story or just a relevant
comedy. But the Church must certainly modernize itself, and
that was the main objective of the Vatican II Council.
However, thirty years had gone by, and the modernization
was nowhere near the set goal. Why? Pope Paul II had con-
firmed in The Mission of Christ the Redeemer. “Missionary ac-
tivity renews the Church, revitalizes Christian faith and identity,
and offers fresh enthusiasm and new incentive. Faith is strength-
ened when it is given to others!”
From there, I firmly believed that if the Church does not
come to the people, it cannot be modernized, and thus all mod-
ernizing efforts would be in vain.
If it does not come to the people, the Church would always
be a room in the winter with all windows tightly shut.
Bắc Ninh, 1989

Today, for my curiosity, I came to Bắc Ninh to get to know a
Bishop in the North who had a modernized mindset. Bishop
Tụng 1 received me warmly. I asked him many questions. He
answered my questions eagerly, but I only took notes of those
that I liked best–
“During war, we haven’t had a chance to know the Vatican
II in depth; so we just reflected and acted upon our conscience.
Now in peace, we were provided with full details of the Vatican
II, and we were so happy to see that what we have coincidently
reflected and acted in close accordance with the Vatican II.
“We firmly believed that the relationship between all mem-
bers of the Church must be fraternal. To have Fraternity, there
must be Equality. The priests worked for the Church, having
their material needs provided by the Church. The faithful who
worked for the Church must get the same material guarantee.
That is Equality, and from there, Fraternity.
“We firmly believe that priests must perform tasks relating
to their missions only. Anything that was not related to the sac-
raments must be entrusted to the faithful.
“The construction of buildings was not our main concern,
but the building of people was. We’ve sent our Catholic faithful
to schools of medical, architectural, pedagogy... so that in the
future, they may serve the people.
“We firmly believe that priests must not construct churches
with wood or stones; these works must be done by the faithful.
Priests were to construct Mass only, and that would be more
than enough to keep them occupied for the rest of their lives.”
I took these words as “The Golden Words.” Those are the
aspirations of the Vatican II.
May these concepts be quickly materialized!
Sơn Tây, 1990

Today, about forty former seminarians convened, coming from
all over the region to volunteer for the construction works of the
Diocesan House. To convene was to converse. Everyone eagerly
chimed in about the Vatican II.
“We gotta modernize, can’t stand it any longer. We had eaten
rice from the God’s house, now it’s time for us to return!”
“The old superiors always considered us like ‘Worst: The
devils; Second to worst: The ghosts; Third to worst: The de-
frocked priests.’ There’s nothing we can do. Only the priests
may modernize the Church, and we just follow them for crumbs
from their table, period!”...
“But who has actually done the modernizing? It’s just the
‘same ol’ same ol’ stuff’ Still sleep peacefully without modern-
izing! that’s what some of them said!”...
“If the modernization won’t come from above, then it must
come from below. St. Francis of Assisi was not a Bishop, not
even a clergyman, yet he had led a revolution for modernizing
the Church. If our superiors won’t modernize, we’ll do it our-
self! Do it from the bottom up!” (Applause)...
I told myself, What a good speaker! The aspirations were
good, yet proven further by historical events. Perfect!
It was so true! The aspirations of Vatican II had sprouted
from individuals, groups of people with goodwill that existed
long before the Council. Since the Church’s Missionary Man-
date, the Catholic of Antioch were inspired to evangelize, and
had reached a record even before the apostles did.
I remembered Nov. ‘94, in an evangelization seminar in
Nha Trang, everyone was asking why have been praying and
referring ourselves as “con” or “chúng con” (I, the child, or or
we, the children of yours) to be humble and intimate to God for
eons, and all of the sudden, the Bishop Council obligated us
to say “tôi” or “chúng tôi” (simply I, or we) instead! Then the
secret revealed: “It was Bishop Hoàng Văn Đoàn 2 who ratified
that the word ‘tôi’ in the traditional Vietnamese means’servant’
(as in ‘tôi tớ,’) therefore, using the word ‘tôi’ to God was being
humble and conforming. No one dared to argue with him, since
he was an expert in languages.”
That was absurd and illogical, and therefore full of hot air.
The self-referring term “con” to God silently continued to prop-
agate against the rules of the superiors.
Now the term “con” has replaced “tôi” officially.
That was the result of a grassroots revolution that came from
below!
8
1
Cardinal Paul Joseph 2
Bishop Dominique
Pham Dinh Tung Hoang Van Doan
(1919-2009) (1912-1974)
8
15. THE PRAYING PHARISEE 81
15. THE PR AYING PHARISEE
Cần Thơ, 1975

HU THỦY GAVE ME “SỐNG ĐẸP” today, a book by Pro-
fessor Lin Yutan. Seeing the author’s name, my eyes
1
alit. When I was in the Seminary, my lecturers had

introduced Prof. Yutan as a revered intellectual. He was a pro-
fessor of Shanghai University, but his reputation had spread all
the way to Europe.
Before finding time to devour the entire book, I randomly
chose and carefully read a few select paragraphs. Incidentally, I
found Lin Yutan and the Gospel. That stopped me in my tracks.
Lin Yutan had relentlessly searched for the truth. He studied
Taoism, Buddhism, Confucius and finally the Bible. He went to
a church one day. After an evangelist’s prayer, Lin Yutan felt re-
sentful, thinking that Christians were so selfish, They took God
all for themselves, considering themselves above others, like
others were not children of God like them. He had later sworn
that From now on, I will follow only one Way (Đạo,) the Human
Way (Đạo Làm Người,) and stopped reading the Gospel ever
since. On that fateful day, the evangelist’s prayer was something
like “Dear God, I thank you for my faith while others were still
languishing in the darkness of death”...
His resentment toward the above prayer unsteadied me. I
used to pray like that. The seminary’s Spiritual Director priest
had taught us to pray like that. He said. “See! God loves you so
much that he called you in to learn, so some day you’ll be able to
step up to the altar, while so many others in your age group were
still out there, tending water buffaloes in the rice fields”...
Now I saw that Jesus taught against the mentality of mine,
and of the unknown priest somewhere in China through the fa-
ble “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector.” 2 I was a Pharisee for
all of those years without realizing it. Thank you, Mr. Yutan!
Your aggravation had awakened me and sent me back to Jesus
My Teacher’s teachings. But I was also saddened by the fact
that a God’s child had denied you a chance to find your way to
Jesus. To thank you, and also to pay for the sin of the unknown
evangelist that you’ve met somewhere in China, I would hereby
tell you a story, a true story of my life–
In 1968, the war poured artilleries down on my country
like monsoon rains. That year, I was a vicar at Cần Thơ Parish
Church. One night, the “ục ình” 3 sounds of nearby shattering
explosions had thrown me out of bed. The deadly flashes knitted
up and brightly lit the darkest night. That happened for a short
while, no more than ten minutes. Perhaps the Lord of Death may
have feared death himself, so he just wielded a quick sword of
fire, then disappeared. I reposed and waited for the death bell
tolling. All quiet. I then fell back asleep...
Next morning, more faithful came to the church than usual.
After Mass, they didn’t leave quietly as usual, but hung out in the
courtyard instead. Some vocally announced. “Last night I saw a
lady in white floating in mid air, waving her arm at every ‘ục;’
Moments later, I heard an ‘ình’ on the Cao Đài 4 village side”...
“It was the Virgin Mary who protected our village. With that
many mortars fired, none had fallen on us. Every one of them
were on the Cao Đài side”... “Poor Cao Đài village! Gotta have
a lot of injuries and deaths!”... “We should go house to house
collecting donations for a big Mass to thank Mother Mary”...
Dear Mr. Yutan, I had honestly felt sorry for the unfortunates
in the Cao Đài village, but I was too busy sharing the joy with
my faithful laities to think of visiting and comforting the Cao
Đài victims... Now, thinking of that, I feel so shameful. I realized
that even as a priest, I was as selfish as you’ve observed–“You
Christians were so selfish, taking God all for yourselves!”
Please forgive me, sir!
15. THE PRAYING PHARISEE 83
Kinh Bảy, ... 1994

This morning, the Parish priest asked me to help the catechistic
teacher for an hour. “Why don’t you give me a subject, young
man?” I asked.
“Say whatever you want, uncle!”
“For how long?”
“Whole day if you want!”
I reluctantly picked the subject “The Mission of the Cat-
echistic Instructors is to Present Jesus Truthfully.” I warned
them. “Be careful not to preach about a distorted Jesus, or a
Jesus wrongly portrayed. Be careful not to teach them like we
were taught, not to pray like the Pharisee in the Gospel of Luke.
The Pharisee thanked God that he was not an evildoer, a robber,
or an adulterer, and for his fasting twice a week, submitting a
tenth of what he got to the church... It was very good to thank
God that way, and it was wonderful to live like that. But all of
that would be poured down into the river just for adding a single
statement to his wondrous prayer–and for that I am not like the
Tax Collector over there!”
A teacher with a square jaw, unshaven beard and a raspy
voice raised his hand. “Father, we’ve been teaching in accor-
dance to the prepared documents that we were provided with.
Our superiors had prepared all those prayers for the kids; We
simply follow those. These prayers even included one just like
what you just have warned against. In that, the kids thank God
for loving and giving them so much more than others!”...
I didn’t ask for the documents to see for myself. I believed
him. I was only saddened that there were still many who contin-
ued follow my former path. The Pharisee was still there, stand-
ing right in the middle of the church, spreading his arms high...
Oh Mr. Pharisee! You were so heroic! The Lord had flipped
you down right in front of the Tax Collector. He had given you
a “double zero” when he said “This man goes home unjustified
before God” and gave the Tax Collector a high score. “This man
goes home justified before God.” The Lord had graded and cited
“He who exalts himself will be humbled.”
You were toppled by God, but you had stood up, and now
standing right in my heart, and the heart of my brethren. There
must have been some of your Pharisee yeast left in me. But now
I understood... So leave me, and leave me for good, please!
8
1
Lin Yutan (1895–1976) was a Chinese writer and inventor. His informal but
polished style in both Chinese and English made him one of the most influen-
tial writers of his generation. His father was a Christian Minister. His journey
of faith from Christianity to Taoism and Buddhism, and back to Christianity
in his later life was recorded in his book From Pagan to Christian (1959.)
The book hereby mentioned was “The Importance of Living,” translated into
Vietnamese as “Sống Đẹp” by Nguyễn Hiến Lê, first published in 1964.
2
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on
everybody else, Jesus told this parable: Two men went up to the temple to
pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and
prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men—rob-
bers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week
and give a tenth of all I get.’ But the tax collector stood at a distance. He
would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have
mercy on me, a sinner.’ I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went
home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled,
and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 18:10-14)
3
The Vietnamese linguistic description of the sounds of a mortar being launched,
and consequently exploded.
4
A syncretist Vietnamese religious movement with a strong nationalist political
character.
8
16. MODESTY BEARS WITNESS TO THE GOSPEL 85
16. MODESTY BEARS

WITNESS TO THE GOSPEL
Saigon, April 1 ...

WAS INVITED TO SAIGON to preach in the Lent season.
Freetheme.Ichoseevangelization.Thechurchwasfullof
young followers. Bright faces. Modern clothes. Perfume
lingering in the air. The day’s subject was “Evangelization is
the Nature of the Church.” I reviewed the Church history and
realized that from the 8th to the 16th century, the Church had al-
most stopped reaching out to the people. Back then, Europe had
heard the Good News already; the North had had only seals and
icebergs; In the West and the Atlantic, ocean crossing navigation
was not easy; In the East and in the South, there were two thick
walls of Islam. No longer capable of reaching out to the people,
the Church had turn inward, focusing on self-reform; But losing
its nature, the more it reformed, the more conflict it got.
1. DURING THIS VERY ERA, Christianity was divided in four
parts–Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant, and Anglican.
2. FURTHERMORE, politics and powerful families interfering
with Church authorities had led to the loss of its fundamental
values. This breakdown was not only found in the lower ranks
but even at the highest levels.
3. THE BELIEVERS’ MORALITY WAS DOWN. People were
living in this era of New Testament as if they were living in the
Old Testament time. God was more feared than loved. Contem-
plation declined. The Trappist monasteries’ strict observances
were loosened. Mother Theresa Avila had had to reform more
than 40 convents herself. She also had to confront many oppos-
ing forces, and at times was cornered by the faithful themselves,
condemning her with heresy, and even wanted her for burning.
The inquisition tribunals sentenced heretics to death by
fire. That was totally against the Gospel’s message, and nowa-
days would have been a criminal violation of human rights.
Wielding the swords against muslims for almost two
centuries (1096-1270) was against Jesus’ own teaching as when
he told Peter–Put your sword where it belongs! Furthermore,
that war was disastrous on many fronts. For seven battles waged,
the Crusaders won two and lost five. The Crusaders had pillaged
and raped too. The war’s participant kings of England, France,
and Germany had were also fighting for better influence, thus
blocking each other’s advancement. Among more than 30,000
young fanatics sent across the Mediterranean Sea to fight the
Muslims for the Holy land, none had returned.
In the end, all that brought forth was an irreconcilable hatred
between Christians and Muslims which, until this day, still hin-
dered any fruitful exchange between these two religions...
After my sermon, a churchgoer ran into the Parish priest at
the church entrance. He was obviously dissatisfied, and com-
plained “That way of preaching would fail; The laities were not
mature enough for such truths!”
I raised my hands in surrender. “My Lord! Why were the
laities so immature? Why could they not understand that they
were weak, and hence realize God’s power? Was it necessary to
reform the Catholics’ education? Was blind education a healthy
one?”
Saigon, April 2 ...

The Pastoral Counsel Director came to see me this morning,
telling me, “I got up at four in the morning to go recruiting vol-
unteers for the week of retreat. My wife asked me from inside
the mosquito net–Where’re ya goin’ this early? I said–I must be
about my Father’s business! She scoffed–Didn’t you hear the
sermon yesterday? Even the Pope wasn’t much of anything, let

alone your Father!”...
I realized that a strong wind of new paradigm has been blow-
ing across the parish. Some faiths were quivering.
The Parish priest didn’t say anything. I looked at him sym-
pathetically. His silence were like an unexplored land that prob-
ably be mined. I asked, unwittingly. “What do you think about
the sermon I gave yesterday morning?”
“Questions create issues. Raising questions was the first step
to success. Go on!”
I thought, What a smart priest! He didn’t even touch the con-
tent of the sermon. He stayed out of it, keeping an eye on both
the visiting preacher and his parishioners. He spoke without say-
ing. The unexplored land was still suspected of mines.
This evening’s sermon–How Christians Have Evangelized
in the Past Twenty Centuries. I summarized the history of the
Christians’ evangelization–
1. The apostolic era was the golden time for the laities.
Everybody was doing apostolic work–Philip, Stephen, the cou-
ple of Priscilla and Apollo. At Antioch, the faithful were the first
to come up with the idea of proclaiming the Gospel to the people.
Once they were successful, the apostles of Jerusalem had sent
Barnabas over to observe. In the Letters to the Romans, St. Paul
had named several laities, tens of women were amongst them.
These laities had worked with him side by side in his mission.
2. During the patristic 1 period, position of the laities
was demoted to “children that need to be supervised.”
3. During the middle ages, the laities were considered
serving class only.
4. Not until pope pius xi had the position and mission of
laities been reinstated, and through a declaration of this Pope,
that position was changed from laying down to sitting up. “The
Catholic Action 2 is the participation of the laity in the apostolate
of the hierarchy.” It was not until Vatican II did the laity actually
stand up and spearhead the evangelization mission.”
After my preaching, a middle-aged man came confiding.
“Vatican II had truly promoted the laity. At first, I thought that it
tried to fool us into it just because it didn’t have enough priests
and monks. Now I realize that the Church had sincerely recog-
nized the position of the laities in Gospel proclamation. It must
be a blessing from the Holy Spirit!”
Saigon, April 3 ...

This evening, I concluded the week of retreat on “The Holy
Spirit in Evangelization.” Before breaking into the subject, I ad-
dressed the audience with my sharing. “I am sad that my first
sermon brought forth discontent from some of you, and shook
the faith of others. I am sorry, but I am not taking back what I’ve
said. The truth is you have heard stories much more shattering
than that–
First: Peter the Pope had shown his fear to a maid and
fallen into the first denial of Jesus. He did it again twice, con-
sequently.
Second: There was a bishop who used to steal public money
only to hang himself at the end. That was Judas Iscariot, the
Bishop whom you used to disdain as Judas the Bad Guy. Don’t
let those negatives discourage you, but from thereon, discover
the Holy Spirit power in the Church”...
Many nodded their heads in approval. Several women, old
and young, smiled satisfactorily. Being reassured, I went on
talking about the power of the Holy Spirit in evangelization.
It was only now while writing these lines, I have come to
understand the words of Pope John Paul II in the Redemptoris
Missio. 3 Besides the testimony of Christian humanitarianism,
he also talked about a new testimony, the modesty that admits
full recognition of our own weaknesses and the general weak-
nesses of human. Now I fully understood its meaning.

Maybe during St. Peter’s lifelong evangelical missions, there
were no words more convincing than those in the stories of his
denials of the Lord. The sermons by St. Paul that spoke straight
to the hearts were probably the stories of his earlier vicious pros-
ecutions of early Christians.
8
1
The theologians from the first few centuries of the Church are called the Fa-
thers of the Church for their long lasting contribution to the Church doctrine.
The periods of their lives and works is known as the Patristic Period of Church
history. The study of their works is sometimes referred to as Patristics.
2
The organized work of the laity that is performed under the direction or man-
date of a bishop in the fields of dogma, morals, liturgy, education, and charity.
In 1927 Pope Pius XI gave the term its classical definition as “the participa-
tion of the laity in the apostolate of the hierarchy.”
3
Mission of the Redeemer, subtitled On the Permanent Validity of the Church’s
Missionary Mandate, is a Papal encyclical by Pope John Paul II published
on Dec. 7, 1990 devoted to “the urgency of missionary activity” in which he
wished “to invite the Church to renew her missionary commitment.”
17. REACHING OUT TO THE POOR 91
17. REACHING OUT TO THE POOR
Cà Mau, 1990
FINISHED the Catechism and Sacramental Prepara-
tion for Thúy Linh today. I had taught her forty les-
sons. During the first few, her mind wasn’t there.
At first, she had came to the class like a model to a fashion show.
New clothes and new hairstyles every day, full make-up every
time, and perfumed as always. Gradually, she became nicer and
simpler. At the end, she no longer wore make-up, focused more
on learning and less on appearance.
After the “Glory be to the Father” and a goodbye, Thúy Linh
pulled a package out of her tote bag, and put it on the table.
“Here’s some clothes for you, Father!” then left. That was how
her catechism class was ended.
I’ve taught thousands of catechumen before; Thúy Linh was
the first to come up with the idea of giving a “token of apprecia-
tion” to the teacher. Taking the gift back to my room, I felt kind
of happy. I had to work on the next day’s Gospel reading before
bedtime. Luke told a story when Jesus came to Zacchaeus. Zac-
chaeus announced. “Lord, I’ll give half of my possessions to the
poor!” I felt a cold shiver down my back.
Hmm! Why didn’t Thúy Linh promise me that she would
help the poor with some clothes, and why didn’t Zacchaeus give
Jesus a few ounces of gold, but gave away half of his posses-
sions to the poor instead? The Lord’s joy was in seeing the poor
helped. Mine was in taking gifts. I felt so embarrassed.
I have always preached love and respect for the poor in my
catechism class, but perhaps I haven’t emphasized it enough, or
have simply failed to show them how to help the poor. I might
have lived closer to the rich than to the poor. I might have loved
the rich more than the poor. The poor were more of a burden
to me so I had no incentive to teach Thúy Linh to love them
and to help them wholeheartedly. I guessed she wouldn’t get too
excited giving this to the poor instead of giving it to me. What
would the “Church of the Poor” be like?... I turned off the light,
went to bed, and laid down with a heavy heart.
Hiền Quan, 1989

Today I went back to my birthplace after thirty-seven years in
exile. The village was still so poor. After the first Mass I have
ever celebrated on my birthplace, I addressed my fellow villag-
ers. The speech concluded with ...“I came home empty-handed,
with not even a piece of candy for the kids; but I here I am, of-
fering you a heart, and a pen!” 1
On the walkway back to the parish house, a distant brother-
in-law whispered into my ear. “No one would listen to you if
you have nothing to give!” The blunt, honest and down-to-earth
advice from a young in-law who neither knew God nor the non-
materialistic life of a priest had me wonder–
1. Why has my village been so poor? There were sev-
eral reasons, some no one dare to mention. 2
A mentionable one was the population explosion. When I
was young, my village had a little over two hundred; now it has
almost a thousand people. Adversely, the acreage of cultivable
land had not increased, but diminished for more urgent need of
housing instead. The cultivation method remained buffaloes and
ploughs. Birth control meant nothing in the Catholic villages.
“The more children, the more God worshipers in this world, and
the more souls in Heaven in the afterlife!” Or so they’ve been
telling each other, exactly as taught by their Parish priest.
Were that how simple the Catholics viewed the overpopula-
tion issue? Should God’s children be allowed to live in such
backward and shabby conditions?
2. Why did i choose to be poor? A friend asked me,

“If the Church were poor, what would it have to help the poor
with?” That’s exactly what I’ve been afraid of.
Being poor was really a sin. Poverty was the mother of stin-
giness. But being a priest, I’ve learned to be afraid of wealth. I
felt much safer being poor. But being poor myself, how could
I be beneficial to the poor? As poor as I was, would my words
have any weight? But anyhow, I chose poverty still, no matter
what. Peter didn’t have any money to give to the one-legged
beggar, but he was still wonderfully beneficial, and his words
were still sacred.
3. For sure, dreams were broken. People had thought
that I must have come home to my village with at least an organ
or an amplifier to give; but today, Not even a piece of candy for
the kids... Were they capable of seeing my heart, or just damned
me as a cheap guy? –You priests must have a lot of money!–
They must have thought. I felt so bad bringing home despera-
tion. What could they be gossiping behind my back now? Well,
I can only give them my gifts of sermons, of endless Confession
sessions. Money was simply out of question.
Cà Mau, 1988
Today Brother Ba Mẫn 3 handed me the 1987 Synod of the
Bishops. “Brother Tám, read it to see if there’s anything of interest
to share with the rest of us!” I skimmed it through, and stumbled
upon a statement made by the Latin American Representative.
“The poor evangelize the poor. That’s our wonderful experience.
Only the poor can fathom the true meaning of the Crucifix.”
The Latin American Representative had not only presented
the evangelization experience of his country proudly with the
word “wonderful,” but went on to defiantly challenge. “If the
Church fails to realize this, then there will be nothing new in
evangelization today.”
Regarding Latin America, I’ve read Theresa, Cacao, The Vio-

lent Land... only to see a damnable poverty and a pitifully poor
population. Today, I visualized a bunch of ragged poor evange-
lizing other ragged poor, and were hailed “wonderful.” Why?
First of all, the apostles were not poor. Simon had a business
in Capernaum, probably comparable to the ownership of a big
permanent fish trap in this Minh Hải region. Andrew was with
him. The family of Zebedee also had a notable business. There
were three of them–Zebedee himself, John, and James–yet they
had to hire more workers. Furthermore, Lord Jesus had many
supporters with big hearts and deep pockets like Mrs. Joanna,
the wife of Herod’s household manager, Mrs. Mary the mother
of James, and the Bethanias were pretty rich too.
But there’s one thing for sure–on their missionary endeav-
our, they didn’t care about money but focusing on their evan-
gelizing instead. They must have had the spirit of the poor, and
with that, they used money as means of evangelizing only. They
themselves did not indulge, and by that, they must have lived
genuinely like the poor.
Experiences of the missionaries had shown that the poor ac-
cepted the Good News more sincerely than the rich did. Due to
their material wellbeing, the rich didn’t feel the need, thus didn’t
care much for God. The poor, once became true believers and
on their evangelizing ways, would present Christ’s Crucifix not
only by words, but by real-life experiences indeed, since they
have fully understood the true meaning of poverty in the Good
News.
8
1
Implying numerous religious articles and books that he penned.
2
The Author, like the rest of the people in Vietnam, especially those in the North,
still dare not to name Communism as a cause for the country’s poverty, espe-
cially those in the North.
More specifically, they would not dare to mention the campaigns of “Rent
Reduction” (Giảm Tô) and “Land Reform” (Cải cách Ruộng đất) that took
place from 1953-1956, basically to rid the countryside of rich, powerful, and
bourgeois peasants. Basically, these were to take land from those who owned
more than a defined amount and giving it to landless peasants–a preliminary
to full nationalization of the land.
Former Hanoi government official Nguyen Minh Can, told RFA’s Vietnamese
service: “The land reform was a massacre of innocent, honest people, and us-
ing contemporary terms we must say that it was a genocide triggered by class
discrimination.”
Some reports said that up to 50,000 people were killed and another 500,000
died gradually in labor camps or from starvation. However, there were prob-
lems in these estimates. Some cover different periods; and some cover strictly
the “land reform” campaign, while others mix up the “rent reduction” cam-
paign with the “land reform” or “political struggle” campaigns with on going
repression and retaliation, or with “democide” associated with the suppres-
sion of rebellions. However, a more believable estimated number of those who
were executed or otherwise killed or died such as those tagged as wealthy
peasants, deprived of their land, officially ostracized and thus denied food and
shelter for this four year period was 283,000 of Vietnamese in the North by
R.J. Rummel in Chapter 6, Statistics of Democide.
By the end of 1956, the Communist Party announced their land reform was a
mistake, and a campaign to rectify the error lasted till 1958.
The land reform in North Vietnam was most accurately documented by Hoang
Van Chi, a Vietnamese nationalist with first hand experience in “From Colo-
nialism to Communism” (first published in 1962 by the Congress of Cultural
Freedom, in New York, London, and New Delhi.) In his book, the author cites
Professor Gerard Tongas who was in Hanoi during these years who finally left
in 1959. The entire “Statistics of Democide” by R.J. Rummel can be found at
www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/NOTE5.HTM.
2
Brother Ba Mẫn, who was born in 1934 in Ca Mau, is now Cardinal Jean
Baptiste Pham Minh Man, Archbishop of Ho Chi Minh City since September
28, 2003. The Cardinal and the Author have known each other since they were
seminarians at Saigon Grand Seminary. They had also worked together at Cai
Rang Seminary where the Cardinal was a Lecturer.
8
Somewhere in Vietnam, 2008
8
18. SOCIAL JUSTICE 97
18. SOCIAL JUSTICE
Saigon...
ESTERDAY I RECEIVED A TELEGRAM, saying “Come.
Urgent.” I rushed to the river port of Thợ Nhuộm, ask-
ing Mrs. Bảy Thanh to take me there to get an express
bus ticket from Cà Mau to Saigon.
“It’s sold out, Chị Bảy. We only had eleven tickets. Take the
priest across the bridge. They had another eleven; perhaps they
may still have some left.” The woman behind the counter said.
“Is there any other luck?” I asked, implying, What if I’m willing
to pay more? “No way Pastor; there are only two buses a night!”
I walked sheepishly across the bridge, trying my luck.
“Anymore tickets to Saigon, sis?”
“No more, uncle! Why don’t you sit there and have a drink.
There may be some last minute cancellations.” The lady ticket
seller said, pointing to the refreshment stall that she owned.
I ordered an iced coffee from her, waiting for my once-in-a-
blue-moon ticket. Perhaps my chance of getting to Saigon was
slim to none, but somebody else’s chance to sell me another cup
of coffee would fare much better, (and if so, I just got duped!)
A little later, a young man trotted across the bridge, traveling
light with a flat bag hung loosely over his shoulder.
“Hey, no more seat, boy!”
“Can’t be! You’ve promised me seat number 22!”
“You ain’t gotta leave today, boy. Come back tomorrow!”
“But that’s not fair!... You gotta keep your promise!”
“Told you so! No more! Come back tomorrow, okay?”
The young man left, chin down. Waiting until he got out of
sight, she turned to me, cheerfully. “Father, I duped him to
get you a ticket. I’m a non-Catholic, but I knew you from the
funeral of Mr. Năm Phần. I called you “uncle” earlier preten-

tiously, so please understand. The bus gonna be here soon!”
8:30 p.m., a rickety bus rolled across the bridge and stopped
on the other side of the street. I grabbed my bag, running after
the refreshment stall owner.
“Hey you, move down there. Let the priest have the seat!”
She ordered the girl in seat number 5, pointing to the far end of
the bus. The girl dutifully moved down to seat number 22.
The bus rolled.
I waved good-bye thankfully to the lady angel, feeling so
joyful inside. Connection first; Authority second... That’s how
it works!
Now I’m in Saigon. Yesterday’s joy had gone, and con-
science kicked in. Because of me, the shop owner lady had vio-
lated the rules of social justice. Because of me, the young man
had to leave disappointedly. Because of me, the girl who was
enjoying seat number five in the front had to move down to the
last row, enduring a horribly rough ride.
I was supposed to fight against injustice, but I tacitly collud-
ed with it instead. I had enjoyed myself upon others’ sufferings.
I haven’t fought against injustice just because I was benefited
from it...
Cần Thơ ...

News from the Archdiocese – Bishop Nguyễn Kim Điền de-
clared at the Synod of the Bishops in Rome. “There were many
Bishops martyred for their conviction. But none was martyred
for social justice!” 1
Yes, that may be true, but why? Maybe none were victimized
by injustice, so none had fought against it; Not being a victim
of it, none were sensitive enough to the sufferings of those who
had to bear it. They all had loved and helped the oppressed but
not actively enough to take sides with and shed blood for them.
I had the audacity to think like that since I assumed that they
were just like me.
There was a time I happened to witness a dispute between
two boys. The mother gave the two one bowl of sweet dessert
and told the older one “Share equally with your little brother,
okay!” The cunning big boy told the little one. “I’m gonna put a
toothpick right in the middle of the bowl. You scoop from your
side, and I from mine. That’s fair, right?” The little one aggreed.
Both started scooping within their boundaries; but the big boy
got so much more since the stuff poured from the little boy’s
side into his side. When the little boy realized what happened, it
was too late. All he could do was crying his eyes out, and there
I was, laughing my head off...
I didn’t empathize with the little boy’s suffering, nor inter-
vene in any way just because I was not the victim of the shrewd
bigger boy; And that’s what life is all about!
Cái Răng ...

Today I visited Cái Răng Seminary. The first office that I rang
the bell of was of Lecturer Chương. 2 He was checking out some
movies. “Have you seen The Missions, 3 Father Pio?”
“Talking movies, I’m like a fool in the dark. Would you sum-
marize it for me please? Just a short one.”
“The movie was about the invasion of white colonialists
against the South American natives. The missionaries who were
there at the time took two different courses of action: Some
took side with the Indians wholeheartedly and armed them-
selves against the colonialists. The rest condemned violence and
kept on evangelizing and praying. At the end, the colonialists
launched a decisive assault and killed them all. The local bish-
ops reported back to Rome. “Our missionaries had stood up for
the Indians and fought valiantly against the colonialists. Some
resorted to violence, others to prayers. In the end, they all died.
They died, but as if they were still living, while we, the bishops,
were living, but as if we were already dead.”
The movie story line plus the sentimental voice of the lec-
turer priest had moved me deeply... Perhaps I have to muse on
this subject for many years to come.
Cà Mau, ...
Today, in the regional retreat’s sermon at Minh Hải, Rev. Triều
mentioned the death of Oscar Romero, the Archbishop of Sal-
vador. 4 He was assassinated during a Mass after speaking up
against injustice. He demanded the government to share the
national resources with the people since most of the nation’s
land was privately owned by the elites. Ninety percent of the
country’s population were day laborers.
It was only today that I heard the name of Oscar Romero,
and of his death. Was that a beginning of the season’s offering
that the Catholic have given to God, a bishop martyred in the
name of social justice? Was it that the wish of Bishop Nguyễn
Kim Điền has come true today, and martyrdom in the name of
the social justice was blossoming all over the world?
8
1
Archbishop Phillip Nguyen Kim Dien, who defied Communist attempts to con-
trol Vietnam’s Roman Catholic Church, died on June 8 in Ho Chi Minh City,
the official Vietnam News Agency said today. He was 67 years old. The press
agency, in a report monitored in Bangkok today, said only that Archbishop
Dien died of an illness in a hospital in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon.
In 1984, Archbishop Dien was barred from work as a priest and was put un-
der house arrest for urging priests not to join the Committee for Solidarity
of Patriotic Vietnamese Catholics. The state had formed the group the previ-
ous year, and critics said it was designed to control the church. The clergy-
man spent his last years under house arrest. He continued to circulate letters
among parishioners, however, and the authorities apparently made no serious
attempt to replace him. In 1986, cardinals and bishops from 40 countries is-
sued a protest letter when Vietnam barred Archbishop Dien from traveling to
Rome to attend the Vatican’s Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples
(The New York Times Obituaries, Saturday, June 18, 1988)
Archbishop Phillip Nguyen Kim Dien, who was ordained in 1947, was appoint-
ed bishop of Can Tho in 1961, Archbishop of Pario in 1964, and Archbishop of
Hue in 1968. After Vietnam reunification, he kept the Roman Catholic commu-
nity together, despite seminary closures and the forced “reeducation” of many
priests. In 1983 the government formed the “Committee for the Solidarity of
Patriotic Vietnamese Catholics” in an attempt to separate the Vietnamese Ro-
man Catholic church from papal authority. For opposition to this committee,
Dien was placed under house arrest from 1984 until his death in 1988. (Ency-
clopedia Britannica)
Monsignor Dien will be deeply missed by the Vietnamese Catholics because

he had assumed a unique role in his forthright defense of human rights and
religious freedom in Vietnam. The highly regarded bishop was never consid-
ered a fervent anticommunist or one who sided with the rich and powerful,
but rather as a priest of the people who embraced the social reform generated
by Vatican II. His criticism of the government’s policies was therefore all the
more painful to the authorities.
His first public criticism of the regime’s policies came in April 15, 1977, when
he was called upon at a meeting to join others in denouncing six leading monks
of the Unified Buddhist Church (An Quang Pagoda) who had just been arrest-
ed. Instead, he expressed sympathy for their plight, and complained of similar
restriction against Catholics. He protested that the Mass and other religious
ceremonies were restricted, priests were forbidden to travel to “New Eco-
nomic Zones” (remote areas of the country where many Catholics were being
sent during this period,) children were subject to anti-Catholic propaganda in
schools, and Catholics suffered discrimination in seeking employment and lost
jobs in hospitals and charitable institutions. Subsequently, Archbishop Dien
was placed under surveillance, and two priests in his diocese were arrested
for distributing his statement. (Sabrina P. Ramet - Catholicism and Politics in
Communist Societies)
2
Rev. Anthony Vũ Huy Chương was appointed Bishop of Hung Hoa Diocese in
August 5, 2003.
3
In this 1986 dramatic movie, Jeremy Irons plays the role of a Spanish Je-
suit Priest named Father Gabriel. Father Gabriel goes to the forests of South
America to build a Christian mission for the natives who live there, and con-
vert them all to Christians. A Spanish Mercenary, Mendoza (Robert De Niro),
later goes there with Father Gabriel in hopes of getting mercy for murdering
his brother. They grew very fond of the community they were staying in, de-
fending them from the Portuguese colonists who were trying to take them as
slaves. The Mission was later on handed over from Spanish protection to the
Portuguese. The Portuguese ordered the Jesuits (Mendoza and Gabriel) to
leave the mission but they refuse. Due to the refusal of leaving the territory, the
Spanish and the Portuguese attack the mission, killing many, including Father
Gabriel, and Mendoza.
The movie was based around the 1750 Treaty of Madrid that allowed expan-
sion of the Portuguese Empire, and for Spain to cease land in the Paraguay
River. In one particular Paraguay community, there were a number of missions
where converts worked together to live a prosperous life. When the Spanish
and Portuguese came to take the Guriani (Natives) and bring them back as
slaves, some of the Jesuits (Reducciones) strongly opposed. The fight for the
rights of the Guriani broke out into the Guriani War (1754-1756). During this
war the Guriani defended their homes, their rights, and their families from the
Spanish/Portuguese forces with the help of a few Jesuit Reducciones.
4
Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez (1917–1980)–often referred to as Mon-
señor Romero by Catholics in El Salvador–was the 4th Archbishop of San
Salvador. As archbishop, he witnessed ongoing violations of human rights and
started a group, which spoke out on behalf of the poor and victims of the Sal-
vadoran civil war. In 1980, he was assassinated by a right-wing group headed
by former major Roberto D’Aubuisson as he held the consecrated host up dur-
ing a Mass. This provoked an international outcry for reform in El Salvador.
Archbishop Phillip Monseñor Romero

Nguyen Kim Dien of San Salvador
(1921 - 1988) (1917-1980)
8
19. CIVIL DEVELOPMENT 103
19. CIVIL DEVELOPMENT
Cái Rắn, Sept. 1, 1994

ODAY I VISITED THE FAMILIES living around the church,
all twenty-seven of them. I stayed over for lunch with the
last one. The men of the house shot straight to the point.
“Your parishioners were poor... you didn’t care, but you cared
enough to build a bridge for the government instead. If you build
bridge for the government, we ain’t gonna pitch in!”
“I build the bridge for the people, not for the government!”
“But that’s a government job!”
“So I’ll build a bridge for myself then. I need a bridge to
visit my people!”
Perhaps they assumed that the Church was to provide them
with their necessities. The truth of the matter was–
THE CHURCH could not afford that, since three-fourth of the
world was in poverty–a population too big for the Church to
handle.
THE CHURCH was not directly responsible for providing the
people with their material needs. Its main area of responsibility
was to pronounce Jesus Christ. Only through Christ may one
find true liberation. Besides, civil development didn’t mean to
bring meals and clothing to the poor, but to provide them with a
chance to escape poverty.
Back then, the church of Cái Rắn had over two hundred
hectares of rice field. These fields were divided up among the
villagers and for them to cultivate and pay dues to the church. So
many years went by, but yet there were only five families who
could build their houses with masonry. People have been poor,
being poor, and continuing to be poor since they had not liberate
themselves but wait for the Church to do it for them instead.

Today, the Village Mothers’ meeting got roughly two hundred
attendees, mostly non-Catholics. They came to listen to a priest
lecturing about family life and child education. After the meet-
ing, an old woman asked. “They said that you priests would give
two million (~US $200 in ‘95) for a convert, is that true?”
“If someone gives me two millions to convert, I’d thank
them for that. But if they wait for me to give him two million to
convert, that would be a long shot!”
Converting for money would bring shame to the Church like
buying love with money would only bring shame to love. The
Catholics used to disseminate among themselves that priests
have tons of money, and obviously, that myth had now spread to
the non-Catholics. There were many ready to convert, believing
that the church could and would help them materially.
I was terrified of seeing people converting for money. I felt
ashamed when people thought that I had lots of money. When
people converted for the money, they would begin worshipping
mammon, 1 and rarely come back to the Lord after that.
On the hill of Bethsaida, after the miracle of multiplying the
bread, people wanted to crown Jesus. He sailed away and went
up to the mountain to hide. Seeing that they were hungry, he
performed the miracle to feed them, but got deeply distressed at
their misinterpretation of the salvation.
Charity must be done even when rewarded with sufferings.
At times, the charity itself was a deviation from evangelization.
Pope John-Paul II used to praise the civil development achieve-
ments of the missionaries, but at the same time, warned them not
to let anyone convert solely for the material support. 2
Cà Mau, ...
I went out to bless a house for Mr. M. today. The man was a
convert. Both husband and wife were wheeler dealers. The route
from Saigon to Cà Mau, Châu Đốc to Cà Mau, or even Pnom-

penh to Cà Mau have become so familiar to them like the dirt
roads of their own village. Only in their thirties, but they’ve
already had a two-story house that worth more than 300 million
(~US $30,000 in ‘95.) During their housewarming party, I sat at the
table of his father. The old man said. “He‘d made it, thanks to
Father Diệp. 3 On every trip, he prayed to Father Diệp, and later
paid tribute to him.”
Actually, M. had prayed to all deities in the world–The God-
dess of Sam Mountain, Mrs. Mã Châu in Ward Two, Buddha
Quan Âm in Ward Five, Mother Mary in Bình Triệu... All were
instrumental to him when it came to making profits. Was his
business legitimate? One of his friends said. “He picked up so
fast that it looks dubious.” One thing for sure, he rarely attended
Mass, and even more rarely took Confession and Communion.
One had to admit that he was very well off materially, but so
poor spiritually. That was an uneven and incomplete develop-
ment. That’s why the Episcopate Committee of Latin America
had announced at the Puebla Conference 3 “To profess Christ is
to develop most completely and most correctly.”
Many times, I was torn between economic development
and evangelization. Evangelizing to the poor without assisting
them materially was very difficult, but assisting them materi-
ally wouldn’t go too far, thus couldn’t bail them out of poverty
anyway. At last, I had to resort to comforting myself with what
Bishop Bùi Tuần 4 once patting me on the shoulder, confided. “I
share with you the endeavor of serving the poor. I saw that all
of your evangelization diaries were focusing on the poor. I have
tried helping them myself without success.”

Today the drilling team of Trần Văn Thời District successfully
completed the installation of four well pumps for the people of
Kinh Giữa. Out of their own goodwill, and also for their po-
tential future business, they had agreed to bring the price down
to $1.7 million (~US $1,700 in ‘95) from $1.8 million each, for a
grand total of $6.8 million. Those who got a pump had to pro-
vide meals for the workers and pay for the concrete pad around
it. I also planned to seek an annual contribution of $5,000 ($.50)
from these families who enjoy free water to help the other poor
in the village. I didn’t announce it yet, but was pretty sure that it
would be agreeable. Having paid a total sum of $1.8 million in
full, I took the sampan to Cái Cấm to see Rev. Mười for early
spring well-wishing. Rev. Mười stuck his tongue out in admira-
tion. “That was pretty gutsy of you, drilling wells for the people
with no funding!”
“It was a debt that I had to pay–He used rain water, we drink
pond water. Spending all that I saved for a sampan, a bookcase,
some new clothes, plus a loan of four more million just to calm
my conscience. Gotta ‘play ‘til the end no matter what, right?
Rather give than get. I’ve found true joy seeing people having
well water to use during Tết though!”...

Today, some Parish Committee members came to build a stick
dam to keep the fishes in the pond. “What had they say after the
four new wells?” I inquired. “Well... some complained jealously,
‘Why not my house but Mr. M’s? I’m the poorer one! ”...
“Like I’ve said, those who were jealous, or wanted to chide
me, just come to see me! Perhaps I gotta give each one a well to
stop them from complaining!”
“Even the village officials said, They can’t envy, how could
we drill each house a well? Where’s the money?”
No good deed goes unpunished. Just another conscience-
bugging matter. Pity not to drill. Yet when do, some whined Un-
even love... What can I do? Well, that may just be my lot then...
1
Riches, avarice, and worldly gain personified as a false god in the New Testa-
ment. Material wealth regarded as having an evil influence.
2
Pope John Paul II’s opening address at the Puebla Conference in Mexico,
1979: “From you, pastors, the faithful of your countries expect and demand
first and foremost a careful and zealous transmission of the truth about Jesus
Christ. This truth is at the core of evangelization and constitutes its essential
content: “There is no authentic evangelization so long as one does not an-
nounce the name, the teaching, the life, the promises, the Kingdom, the mys-
tery of Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God”
3
Francis Xavier Trương Bửu Diệp, a martyred priest who was killed with his
on March 12, 1946 at Cây Gừa village, reburied at Tắc Sậy in Bạc Liêu Prov-
ince in 1969. A holy man who many say is responsible for healing of physical
ailments, increased prosperity, and good fortune.
In an interview by UCAN on April 18, 2008, Cardinal Man reflects on his

10 years as Archbishop. “I was born in 1934 in Hoa Thanh parish, Ca Mau
province. My grandfather and father helped build four churches, and they also
assisted local priests in running newly established mission stations.
They got to know many local priests and worked with them, including the
late Father Francis Xavier Truong Buu Diep, who was killed in 1946. He is
revered as a martyr who died for his parishioners and serves as an intercessor
through whom prayers are answered.
In 1939, when I was five years old, Father Diep and two other priests had
meals at my home, and my parents and I served them food. Father Diep told
my parents that when I turned six, they should enroll me in Salesian-run
schools, and later a minor seminary.
My parents followed his advice. So I started my studies at a Salesian school in

Soc Trang province in 1940, and then went to another in My Tho province in
1942 before I entered a minor seminary in 1944.
4
John Baptist Bui Tuan, born June 24, 1928; Ordained priest Sept. 02, 1955
in Hong Kong; consecrated Bishop of Long Xuyen on the day South Vietnam
collapsed–April 30, 1975; Retired October 2, 2003; Succeeded by Bishop
Joseph Tran Xuan Tieu.
8
Cầu ‘khỉ’, or ‘monkey’ bridge - Photo by Hans Kemp, 2007
One of several bridges Rev Pio Ngo Phuc Hau helped build in Ca Mau
8
20. MADAME NAM 109
20. MADAME NAM
Ô Môn, 1963
TOOK MY MOBYLETTE moped straight out, looking
around while silently praying to God to grant this mis-
sionary a rest stop. My heart suddenly filled with warmth
when I saw a thatch-roof house with a pomegranate tree in the
front. The fist-size pomegranate was swinging in the breeze. Re-
flexively, I rode up to the porch, pretending to admire it.
Hearing the motor sound on and off, a kind-looking, gray-
haired lady rushed out. “Who are you looking for?”
“Hello ma’am! The pomegranate tree is so cute... may I ad-
mire it for a moment?”
“Come in and have a drink first!”
“May I ask for your order in the family 2 for a more proper
addressing?”
“I’m the fifth (Năm), my husband’s family order.”
“May I ask where he is, Bà Năm?”
“He passed away long ago.”
“I’m sorry... so who’s living here with you now?”
“Just my grandson and me. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Ô Môn, coming here to teach catechism. Come
for the day, leave in the evening. Traveling back and forth was
so tiring. I’d like to stay, but haven’t found a place yet.”
“Stay here with me then. The house is big and empty. Just
stay like you were a nephew of mine.”
“So, may I ask what is your religious belief, Bà Năm?”
“None per se. Just revering my ancestors.”
“Thank you Lord! Thank you Bà Năm! So... can I move in
tomorrow?”
“Uh-huh!”
Định Môn, 1963

I’ve been here for a week already. The house was empty as a
roadside temple. During the day, her nephew went out roaming
around the village, I went out teaching catechism from house
to house, and she spent whole day backbreaking on her rows of
greens. At dusk, I crawled into my mosquito net, sitting inside,
legs folded, saying my night prayers. Mrs. Năm lit some incense
sticks, saying her prayers indistinctly. She’s not too talkative,
me neither. No one said a word to the other. Time went by just
like that, quietly and silently... The Holy Spirit must have loved
to work in silence.
Định Môn, 1963

Tonight I’ve taught catechism at Mr. Sáu Đền’s. He had a bunch
of kids who weren’t baptized yet. His wife has waited until now
to take catechism to formalize her marriage with him. Their
neighbors came in for a free ride, filling up two bare wood-plank
beds. Mrs. Năm took her stool along, sitting on the front porch,
moving in and out of the picture like a gobi fish hiding in a trunk
of a mangrove palm. I wondered if she’d caught my “Huế” 2
accent, or if she believed in God... One thing for sure though,
tonight, she’s no longer one with a few words. She began to ask
about things, within the context of catechism.
“I see that you preach God’s words. I like almost everything
about God, except for one thing. If you can explain that to me,
I’ll convert right away.”
“What is it, Bà Năm?”
“You’ve said that God had loved us so much, so why did
he let us mothers suffer so much in child bearing? Nine month
carrying, then painful flesh tearing at birth, then three years of
breast feeding... Why didn’t he allow us to give birth as easy as a
hen with her eggs; Just lay it, then clucking away back to worm-
digging like nothing, no pain whatsoever!”
20. MADAME NAM 111
“That was a very interesting thought, Bà Năm! Now, let’s put it

this way–God could have allowed your mother to give birth to
you as easy as a duck would. But I’m afraid that if birthing bore
no pain, no suffering, then the motherhood wouldn’t be that pre-
cious. And if the mother didn’t suffer for her children, the chil-
dren may feel less indebted to her. If your Mom gave birth to
you just like a hen laying an egg, she would certainly not have
loved you as much as she did, and perhaps you wouldn’t feel
indebted to her as much as you have. There were some scientists
who experimentally gave a cow a shot of painkiller before deliv-
ery. Later, when the calf came to suckle, the mother cow kicked
her calf away, refused to feed it. So, instead of blaming God, you
should thank him instead!”
Mrs. Năm seemed to be convinced. I pushed “Are you ready
to convert now, Bà Năm?”
“Hold on. I need to think it over.”
Ô Môn, 1963
I’ve finished a month of evangelization at Định Môn, and bid
Mrs. Năm good-bye this morning. Mrs. Năm had bid me good-
bye the night before with a wonderful surprise.
Last night, after the catechism class at Mrs. Sáu Đền’s, I
came home and sat cross-legged to say my night prayers as
usual. Suddenly, a crowd poured in. Perhaps Mrs. Năm invited
people over for Mr. Năm’s memorial, I thought...
Mrs. Năm brought out two trays of duck porridge on the two
bare wood-plank beds, then formally announced the reason for
the event–“The teacher is leaving tomorrow. He hasn’t shared
with me a meal since he came. Tonight I treat him with a pot
of duck porridge. Everybody’s welcomed to join me in bidding
farewell to him”...
I was dumbfounded. Mrs. Năm was so quiet and secretive.
She cooked duck porridge for my treat without me knowing.
Now I found myself speechless, just “Thank you Bà Năm...

thank you all!” Then folding up my legs on the wood-plank bed,
sipping porridge with everyone.
So, from the day I come to the day I leave, one hadn’t talked
much, the other wasn’t too talkative, living in a quiet house,
with a pomegranate tree in the front that had one lonely fruit
swinging in the breeze, silently...
Saigon, 1964
Today, I received a letter from the Parish priest of Ô Môn, say-
ing. “Bà Năm had been baptized, and now became an exemplary
Catholic. Thanks to the Lord!... Bà Năm talked of you quite of-
ten. Don’t forget to bring her a gift this summer!”
I reviewed all memories of Mrs. Năm with love and appre-
ciation. She was as mellow as a sweet potato, quiet as a clam,
and hardworking like an ant. All her neighbors loved her. There
was one special thing about her though–She loved Mrs. “Năm
Lớn” 3 very much. Mr. Năm passed away, leaving behind two
wives, Mrs. “Năm Lớn” (‘Big’–as in big sister) and “Mrs. Năm
Nhỏ” (‘Little’–as in little sister.) Their houses were right next to each
others. Mrs. Năm Lớn’s face was more refined, with flashy eyes
and thin lips. Mrs. Năm Nhỏ’s was more of a good-nature, and
with thicker lips. Mrs. Năm Lớn had an air of arrogance. Mrs.
Năm Nhỏ was humble and meek. They never argued, never bad-
mouth each other. Dishes on one side were always shared with
the other.
I wondered if Mrs. Năm Lớn would convert to Christianity
with Mrs. Năm Nhỏ?
Ô Môn, 1964
Today I went to Định Môn to see Mrs. Năm Nhỏ. I gave her
a beautiful rosary. First time seeing her smiling ear-to-ear, her
thick lips stretching thin. She asked, giggly. “Can you give one
20. MADAME NAM 113
to Bà Năm Lớn too?”

“I have only one for you, Bà Năm!”
“Then I ain’t gonna take it. We sisters gotta be equal. I con-
verted, she converted. I get a rosary, she gotta get one too!”
I sheepishly put the rosary back in my pocket, thinking of
going back to Saigon to buy another one to give equally to the
two wives of a dead man.
Life was full of surprises, wasn’t it? First of, the two wives
were not jealous, but loved each other like two blood sisters.
Second, the Holy Spirit used polygamy to distribute faith in
a winner-take-all method. The Holy Spirit was truly one who
“fix us inside out.” He moved anywhere he wanted. Where he’s
from, no one knew. Where he’s going, no one knew. Ones only
knew that he existed, and he’s been the key to evangelization.
8
1
The Southern Vietnamese habitually address others by the family orders, with
“Hai,” literally “Second”–implying second to the parents only–for the oldest
one.
2
The Vietnamese in the far South generalize all with different accents as “Huế,”
no matter where they come from (either North like the Author, or the Central,
which is where the city of Huế actually is).
3
Vietnam practiced polygamy until it became illegal in the ‘50s.
21. MS CHIN 115
21. MS CHÍN 1
Bến Bọng, Jan. 28, 1975

INE PM YESTERDAY (Saigon time,) I stepped into Ms.
Chín’s house. My guide was talking to her privately in
the back. Ms. Chín came to meet me with a small oil
lamp in her hand. She threw me a quick glance, then “You sleep
there, brother!” pointing at the wood-plank bed. That’s all she
said, before turning back inside. I put up the mosquito net. A
faint light flickered from the inner quarter. Here on the outside,
there was only a red dot of a lit incense.
I couldn’t close my eyes, being busy assessing my current
nerve-wrecking situation. By the faint noises from the inside, I
guessed there were two people in there–her son’s bed right next
to mine with a palm-leaf wall in between, and her bed about five
meters away, right behind the altar. That meant she’s a widow,
and the incense stick with a red dot was the soul of Mr. Chín.
This morning, I sat vacuously on the wood-plank bed, not
knowing what to do. Phong, her son, stayed late in bed on the
other side of the palm-leaf wall. Ms. Chín walked straight up to
me, and started unpreparedly. “Don’t tell anybody that I don’t
talk to you. I’m a widow, and you a priest!”
She quickly walked back inside, out to the back door, and
disappeared. I was dumbfounded. Who are they? Did they in-
struct her to get close to me, but she didn’t want to, and afraid
that they would find out?
Strangely, I didn’t see her around today, except when she
brought out the meal trays and put them on the wood-plank bed.
I just got a glimpse of her back. A moment later, a voice came
from inside. “You eat with Phong. I’ll eat later!”
Bến Bọng, 1975
Ms. Chín went to Cà Mau for a short vacation, and was back
yesterday. I was talking to Phong, her son. He was going to join
the army, thus wanted to talk to me all he could. His father was
killed in action when he was five. He’s now 18; So Ms. Chín has
been widowed for 13 years. I just realized that there was a brand
new 6x9 photograph on the wall; a picture of a woman with a
rather dark complexion. I asked Phong, “Who’s that?”
“That’s my Mom. Don’t you recognize her?”
“Um... When did she take it?”
“She just went to Cà Mau and took it.”
I felt so embarrassed, since I’ve been here for three months
already, and still didn’t have a clear look at her. She had stayed
out of my sight intentionally. When I was in the front yard, she’s
in the back. When I was in the outer quarter, she’s in the inner.
Other than time spent on the rice fields, she often went about in
the village. In the early days, she brought my meals to the outer
quarter, then walked back inside, and from there “There’s your
meal, Anh (Brother) Tám!” In the later days, she just said from in-
side. “Your meal’s ready; come and get it!” During the first days
of the rainy season, she went out weeding the young rice paddy,
so I cooked for myself. During the days that both of them went
to Cà Mau, I cooked for myself and her pigs. At night, she hung
out with the neighbors’ ‘til very late, and came back only when I
was in bed. There must be something going on between the lady
of the house and the uninvited guest, something not normal.
“How old are you this year, Brother Tám?”
“How old? Year of the Rat, thirty-nine”
“My mother’s the Buffalo, so you’re one year older then.”
What did he have in mind comparing the ages of the Rat and
the Buffalo, mine and his mother’s? A stepfather? An absolute
nonsense? Or, somebody had put that thought in his head?
21. MS CHIN 117
Bến Bọng, May 1975
This morning, seminarian Đức sneaked in to visit me, concerning

and caring. “Ms. Chín was mad at you, and badmouth you!”
“What was it?”
“She said, Coming home after a whole day weeding the
paddy, tired to death, just wanna lay down for a moment on the
hammock, but the guy 2 just wouldn’t budge! ”
My heart painfully skipped a beat. The hammock has been
there, hanging across the wood-plank bed that Ms. Chín had
shown me from day one. It came with the bed. I used to sit in it,
hanging my feet loose on the bed, putting the books on my laps
to read, and notebook to write. Suddenly, I felt so bad violating
the homeowner’s happiness. Without a word, I moved my bag
to the wood-plank bed on the opposite side, giving the ham-
mock back to its tiresome owner, heart sinking with sadness.
Suddenly, the days here became unbearable...
Bến Bọng, May 1975

Brother Rev. Năm Hoạch, my bosom friend insisted. “I had
fought fiercely for trading places with you. Now you move
to Mrs. Năm’s, I’ll move to Ms. Chín’s. It’s more fun at Mrs.
Năm’s; better foods and more frequent meals anyway. Her sons
went out catching eels, trapping field mouses... so we got some
meat to drink to almost everyday. Ms. Chín would only be like
a big sister to me!”
“I know you care so much for me to be that determined, but
I don’t think it will be permitted. Mr. Hai had told me–You like
to do the intellectual works, so staying at Ms. Chín’s would be
more suitable. There’s no little kids there; Besides, it is more
quiet, thus fits your priesthood better”...
Brother Năm Hoạch looked at me affectionately but griev-
ingly. He got pretty upset seeing me not fighting for the switch-
ing. No doubt that meals at Ms. Chín’s were frugal; There were
days that we had only rice in coconut juice; but I could not switch
places just for that. To me, that would be coward.
Bến Bọng, 1975

Last night, at eleven, there was a drunken voice of a man who
just got back from a drinking party. “Phong’s mother, 1 are you
still up?”
“Who do you think you are calling me ‘Phong’s mother’?
What a jerk!”
The man disappeared into the twilight, mumbling the reper-
toire of “Oh Phong’s mother, ah Phong’s mother”...
Laying in my mosquito net, I could vividly visualize his
face–a wide, red face, a back as wide as a plank bed, a breath
fouled with alcohol vapor that clung to the salt-and-pepper un-
shaven beard...
Were those frivolities normally happened at this quiet time
of the day?...
Being a widow not known for beauty, Ms. Chín was like a
ripe fruit within reach of every men in the village; but she didn’t
let anyone touch it. She kept yelling “What a jerk!”–and that
was it. Nobody in the village badmouth her for that matter.
I do respect this simple but strong-minded peasant lady. Was
that a divine providence devised to provide me with a safe shel-
ter that I had up to this day?
Năm Căn, June 12, 1975

This morning, Mr. Mười Thăng told me that my “time-out” was
over. “We apprehended you people for your questionable politi-
cal standing. Our investigations had clarified that, so now you
are free to go!” Coincidentally, the sampan that came from Năm
Căn for my visitation had a dozen of pineapples and a pot of
braised meat. Ms. Chín was invited to join us in the celebration.
21. MS CHIN 119
She was happily smiling to everyone, and wished me well. At

the end of the celebration’s meal and before departing, my five
“devilish” seminarians carried a tray full of pineapples to her, all
bowing. Út Niệm spoke for the group, with arms folded. “Dear
‘mother’ Chín, we would like to thank you for taking good care
of our ‘father’ in the last 4, 5 months”...
Ms. Chín laughed out loud, teasingly chided “You little
devils, how dare you to pair up your father, huh?”... Everybody
laughed heartily. And I was so well embarrassed. Now I see that,
around this thatch house, there were watchful eyes in waiting
for a Good News, a comic one, a desperate one... It was only me
who was as guileless as a Siamese duck.
Cà Mau, June 1975

Today I had a chance to talk to Brother Rev. Năm Hoạch in
depth for the first time. “Hey Brother Năm, back then, why were
you so keen on switching place with me?”
“I was so worrying, since you were sleeping on one side all
along, and all of a sudden, you switched to the bed on the op-
posite side. The one on that side was only a palm-leaf-wall away
from Ms. Chín’s bed”
“Well, you’ve graded me kinda low then!”
“You never know... Even heroes got tired sometimes!”
Năm Hoạch chokingly laughed. His neck waved back and
forth like a drake playing with a hen. He was so happy, since all
worries in his mind were now gone. His laughs were the laughs
of victory.
8
1
It is common for a Southern Vietnamese man to address his wife intimately
thus exclusively by calling her “Mother of ...” with the name of his oldest
child added; Vice versa, Ms. Chín would have called her husband “Father
of Phong” in return; Otherwise, it would be “em,” “anh,” literally “sister”
and “brother” for the younger couples, and commonly switched to “ông” and
120 AN EVANGELIST’ S DIARY
“bà,” literally “Mr” and “Mrs” for the older couples. As previously men-
tioned, the Southerners habitually and uniquely address each other by the
family orders, with “Hai,” literally “Second” as the oldest one (adding to the
confusion, even to the Vietnamese from other regions of Vietnam.) Throughout
this book, the Author addressed Ms. Chín, for example, as “Chị Chín,” liter-
ally “Sister Chín” since she is younger than him. In the previous Chapter, the
Author addressed Mrs. Năm “Bà Năm,” since she is older. All this may be
found complex and confusing to all, but that is one of the uniqueness of the
Vietnamese culture that helps bind the people of Vietnam together as family
members in a big family. The other uniqueness of the culture is the common
last names for millions of Vietnamese, such as Nguyễn, Trần, Lê, Lý, Ngô, etc.
with Nguyễn as the most popular, believed to be the common last name for
more than half of the population.
2
The original term used was “thằng Tám Hậu,” which was totally inappropri-
ate for addressing an older, especially a respectable person, let alone a priest.
The term “thằng” may be used intrinsically to address a lesser one, or more
commonly, a despicable one. It was hereby used intentionally as an insult (and
that’s why the Author’s heart was “painfully skipped a beat” when he heard it)
No direct translation could justifiably convey that, unless as hereby explained.
By the way, Ms. Chín had later become a strong supporter of the Author. She
had silently helped him solving issues with the local government in several
occasions. As of 2009, Ms. Chín still keeps in touch with the Author, and con-
tinues to show respect and affection to the man, his cause, and his religion.
Ms Chin in black pyjama, front row
8
22. WOMEN 121
22. WOMEN
Cà Mau, ...
JUST FINISHED “THE ILL WIND SEASON,” a novel by
Nguyễn Quang Sáng. I liked Nguyễn Quang Sáng for his
ability to find a reason to laugh, even right on the verge
of death–The guerrilla girl who feared not of the American am-
munitions, but scared stiff of a leach... the liaison cadre girl who
dived into the pond to hide from the American helicopters, but
refused to dip her head into the water or crawl into the bushes
just because she didn’t want to ruin her newly coconut-oiled
hairdressing... But I would remember this statement for the rest
of my life–Women were like stars in the sky. Stars in the sky
were so numerous and bright; but they would be really dense
and really bright in the darkest of the nights.
Women were like that. They only came out heroically when
their families or their country was in peril. From “up to the gold
or down to the bran” or from the best to the worst of tasks, they
would take it all. They could have traded gold or dollars today,
then sold meat, fishes, coal-grilled bananas, escargots, noodles
tomorrow, while their men could only do the “gold” things, but
not the “bran” things.
It’s true! During the war, while the men cadres hid in bomb
shelter tunnels, the women cadres went on with their mission
casually–going to town to rally against bombardment and sweep
operations, making connection from province to province, zone
to zone... During Tự Đức Dynasty, 1 while priests hid inside dou-
ble wall cavities, Sisters of Congregation of the Lovers of the
Holy Cross delivered letters of the Bishop to parishes; and now,
right here in my parish, I dug trenches, the nuns dug drenches; I
went out harvesting, they went out harvesting... But when they
went out selling crab noodle soup or coal-grilled rice papers...

I had to give up. So, how should I think of the women’s role in
the Church nowadays?
Cà Mau, 1994
Today, a friend of a different faith came by. Different faiths, but

we were close enough to call each other “buddy.” He raised all
kinds of questions. “Why priests were not married?... Why there
were no priestesses?” and finally concluded. “So, in the Catholic
Church, there will not be equality between men and women as
long as there are no priestesses!”
To that, I said, “To me, the question was should they, not
could they become pastors. That’s why no women ever com-
plained when the government not asking them to perform mili-
tary duty as men must. The priesthood should be considered as
a duty, not a privilege. Each person, each gender should take
responsibilities that deemed to be more suitable to his or her
orientation and ability instead”
“That makes sense, but I’m not satisfied.”
“Well, I’m not either, since women issue was the issue of
generations; It’s not that simple.”
“Just ‘hit and run’ again huh?”
“Um... Not that I just ‘ran,’ but ‘ran out’ instead!”
And that was it. The subject changed to mundane issues.
Sơn Tây, 1993

Vũ Tất 2 told me, “The H’mong women have been evangeliz-
ing like crazy. At the end of every harvesting season, they’d put
their back-basket on, walked from Yên Bái to Sơn La, and Sơn
La to Lai Châu. They took the men like nothing. They told their
husbands, “You guys stay home. Let us do the evangelizing. We
women eat a little, talk a lot. You guys were all eating, drinking,
22. WOMEN 123
and smoking. You just ate, drank, and smoked your days off,
having no time left for evangelizing.”
“I think they put it so well. They’ve admitted that women
talked too much, but yet they knew how to apply that to apos-
tolic missions in an advantageous way!”
“They’ve condemned their men justifiably too! The H’mong
men habitually smoke opium. A number of them had gone bank-
rupt just because of that!”
Hiền Quan, 1989

This morning, I was having breakfast with the pastoral care min-
ister in the room when the parish manager lady walked in from
the gate, cutting across the court to the kitchen. The minister
said from the room, teasingly. “Feeling so good, eh? Feeling full
without eating eh?”...
“Yeah right... and you didn’t even let us read the Virgin Mary
Monthly!”...
The frivolous exchanges perplexed me for a moment. Oh
yeah... My sermon last night must have caused a big ripple in
the parish... I was talking about how Jesus treated the women. I
complained that, in my homeland, the women have never been
treated fairly like Jesus had shown. There was no woman in the
Parishioner Committee. Their highest position was a flower of-
fering parish manager lady. They were not even allowed to clean
up within the sanctuary. In the kitchen, they were allowed to
cook rice, boiling water, and wash dishes only. Tasks like fixing
chickens, frying fishes, tossing salads... were all men’s.
I realize that there was a huge mistake in the “Cultural As-
sociation.” The Vietnamese society is deeply influenced by Con-
fucianism-Mentianism. 3 Within that context, “Having one boy
considered have, having ten girls considered have not.” In that,
“Women must stay inside for the society to have its peace.”
The missionaries should have learned the exemplary respect
that Lord Jesus had treated the women with to promote the role
of women, but they have used the men-first mentality of the
Confucian-Mencian culture to override the Gospel in parish or-
ganization instead.
Sơn Tây 1993

During the meeting, the priests from Hưng Hóa were planning
for the centennial anniversary of the Diocese founding (1895-
1995.) One of the planned activities was to organize a conven-
tion for Evangelizing Action Committee with all parishes in the
Diocese to participate. The Diocese had more than four hundred
parishes. Each parish would send two representatives to the con-
vention. So, the convention would have eight hundred to a thou-
sand parishioner member participants–all men.
I visualized of a magnificent picture of one thousand pa-
rishioner members! It would be totally impressive! That would
show the strength of the Diocese. How wonderful it would be!
Suddenly, I felt there’s something wrong with it.
“Oops... A thousand parishioner members with not even one
single woman? Would that be normal?” Everyone froze, then
broke out laughing with a single “hee!” in unison...
8
1
Continuing the policies of his predecessors, Emperor Tự Đức (1829-1883)
shut Vietnam off from the outside world and rejected all efforts to modernize
the country. Accounts of his personal life show a gentle and educated man, but
his policies brought on conflict with Europe that Vietnam could not win. He
oppressed all foreign influences in Vietnam, especially the Christians, calling
the religion “a perverse doctrine.” The Christian mandarin Nguyễn Trường
Tộ tried to convince Tự Đức that it was a suicidal policy, but he did not listen,
confident that France was too involved with the chaos in Europe in 1848 to
respond (but that had later proved to be a bloody mistake.)
France responded with a large military expeditionary force and attacked up

from the South. The Vietnamese royal army fought bravely for some time, but
22. WOMEN 125
their antiquated weapons and tactics were no match for the French, who suf-
fered more from the climate and disease than from enemy resistance. With
French forces moving closer against him, Tự Đức called upon his Chinese
overlord, the Qing Emperor, for help and so ensued the Sino-French War. The
fighting around Hanoi against China and the Giặc Cờ Đen, the “Black Flag
pirates,” ended with France victorious and China gave up their position as
feudal master of Vietnam and recognized France as the new ruling power.
To make matters worse, Emperor Tự Đức had to deal with renewed internal
rebellions that had become commonplace for the Dynasty. There were literally
hundreds of small rebellions and uprisings against Nguyễn rule. Oppression
of the Christian missionaries proved to be the biggest source of trouble, in-
cluding the execution of a Spanish bishop which led to the fall of Saigon to the
French. By an order of 1848, Tự Đức commanded all Vietnamese Catholics
to renounce their religion, otherwise would be branded on the face with the
mark of a heretic and surrender all of their rights and privileges. This oppres-
sion rallied most of the European powers against Vietnam, and Tự Đức, by
doing this, had given up any hope of Vietnam gaining help as a victim from the
outside world (The Last Emperors of Vietnam - Chapuis, Oscar 2000)
2
John Vũ Tất, a pioneer evangelist in Lào Cai, Hưng Hóa, Vietnam, now a
Lecturer of Hanoi Grand Seminary (2009).
3
Confucianism is a Chinese ethical and philosophical system developed from
the teachings of the Chinese philosopher Confucius. It focuses on human mo-
rality and right action. Confucianism is a complex system of moral, social,
political, philosophical, and quasi-religious thought that has had tremendous
influence on the culture and history of East Asia. It might be considered a state
religion of some East Asian countries, because of governmental promotion of
Confucian values.
As a Confucian himself, Mencius based his philosophy on the concept of “jen”

(humaneness, humanity, benevolence,) etc. To this base, he added the concept
of “i” (righteousness, or duty.) Mencius believed that the “humaneness” or
“benevolence” that you show to someone should in some way be influenced by
the type of personal relationship you have to that person. You show “jen” to
a person based on that person’s position (as well as your own) and the obliga-
tions you owe to that person, so that you owe more “jen” to your immediate
family than you do, say, to the Pope of Rome. “I,” then, means that we have
obligations to people that arise from social relations and social organization,
not because there is some divine law mandating these obligations.
Throughout Chinese history, Mencius has been, at times, regarded as a poten-

tially “dangerous” author, leading to outright banning of his book. This was
because Mencius developed a very early form of what we now call “Social
Contract.” Mencius, like Confucius, believed that rulers were divinely placed
in order to guarantee peace and order among the people they rule. Unlike
Confucius, Mencius believed that if a ruler failed to bring peace and order
about, then the people could be absolved of all loyalty to that ruler, and could,
if they felt strongly enough about the matter, revolt.
Cultures and countries strongly influenced by Confucianism and Mentian-

ism include China, Taiwan, Japan, Korea, Singapore, and Vietnam. The basic
teachings of these stress the importance of education for moral development
of the individual so that the state can be governed by moral virtues rather than
by the use of coercive laws. Among those, “Filial piety” is considered one of
the greatest virtues, and must be shown towards both the living and the dead,
including remote ancestors.
The term “filial,” meaning “of a child,” characterizes the respect that a child,
originally a son, should show to his parents. This relationship was extended by
analogy to a series of five relationships of “Ngũ Thường,” five “ways” or “re-
lationships” that men have to submit to: 1) Ruler to subject, 2) Father to son,
3) Spouse to spouse, 4) Brother to brother, and 5) Friend to friend. Specific
duties were prescribed to each of the participants in these sets of relationships.
Such duties were also extended to the dead, where the living stood as sons to
their deceased family. This led to the veneration of ancestors, which is widely
adopted and practiced in Vietnam for generations, and totally misconstrued
by the French missionaries as ancestors ‘worshiping’ in a religious context.
This misinterpretation, for centuries, proved to be the bloodiest mistake of the
Church in East Asia, including Vietnam, and continues to alienate Vietnamese
Christians from the rest of the nation, especially to the Communists who were
mostly atheists, but as any other Vietnamese, revere their ancestors.
Readers of this Diary may now partly see how painful it is for a modern day
evangelist like the Author-Evangelist Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau to continue pay-
ing for this mistake, and how brave it was for him to stand up and speak
up against the wrongdoers, including but not limited to those of the Roman
Catholic Church that he has been devoting his life for, ironically.
The conflict between the Church with its current 6.87% followers from the to-
tal population of Vietnam and the rest of the nation must, and may be resolved
one day. In the mean time, Rev. Ngo Phuc Hau and others priests like him, in
many regions, and in many occasions, continue having to deal with adverse
conditions in their daily lives simply being priests, let alone evangelists.
8
23. FUNERAL OF MRS. NAM 127
23. FUNER AL OF MRS. NAM
Cái Rắn, July 17, 1995

T’S SUNDAY TODAY. After the evening Mass, Mrs. Sáu
Sen urged “Oh ông Cố, ông Cố have to baptize Mrs.
Năm Thân now. She’s coming to an end. Her family
is coming to pick you up with their sampan!”
“Um... She had converted four, five months ago, but was not
baptized yet... Alright, let’s go!”
Mrs. Năm laid there silently, eyes tight shut. I reminded her
to call God ‘Father,’ and ask God to take her soul to Heaven. She
faintly moved her head and lips to communicate. She was still
conscious, but totally burned out. “Maria, I hereby baptize you
in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit!”...
I shook hand with Mr. Năm, bidding good-bye. “Here’s a
little money for you to take care of her, Mr. Năm. I’ll pray for
her and for you both, Mr. Năm!”
Looking at the money, he said. “You remember that my wife
and I have followed your religion. My youngest daughter has
followed your religion too. For the rest of the kids, I’ll talk to
them”...
Stepping into the sampan, looking back, I saw that the neigh-
bors already began to erect the funeral gathering tent.
Mr. Năm’s house had skewed badly. The entry door sagged
down into a parallelogram with the two sharp angles acutely
sharp. It might collapse even before her soul departs.
The reason why I hesitated to baptize this couple was be-
cause I still believed that this statement was a reality–Convert-
ing for rice.
Wait-and-see seemed to be best.
But.. Would it be an insult to the poor, thinking that way?

This morning, Mrs. Sáu Sen panicked. “Oh ông Cố! Mrs. Năm
had passed away!” – “When?” – “Last night. Other Catholic
mothers and I stayed vigil all night!” I pondered for a moment.
“Ask her family to see when the funeral will be so I can come
for funeral Mass.” Quarter to four, I stepped into the sampan.
The neighbors had filled up the front yard. Dozens of white
weepers 1 dashed in and out. A man authoritatively announced,
“Before the man of the church performs rites for Mrs. Năm, all
of her children and grandchildren move forward to the front!...
Light up the funeral lamps and candles!... Bring out the foods!...
Is that all? Bring some more, poor her...”
Dozens of heads bowed down acknowledging the indebted-
ness to their mother and grandmother...
“I hereby announce–The church had helped with $180,000
(~US $18), ten kilos of rice, and three sets of clothes. The village
government pitched in with $100,000 ($10) Now Pastor, share a
few words, please!”
I was planning to share during the Mass sermon, but the choir
hasn’t come yet, so I delivered the sermon before Mass instead.
Eyes and mouths widely opened, trying to listen to a priest with
a “Hanoi-Saigon” 2 jaw-breaking accent. With an accent rather
alien to their ears, I conveyed to the non-Catholic audience the
Christians’ view of death. “To die is to come back to God; the
beginning of an everlasting life...”
From there, I sent my congratulations to Mrs. Năm’s spirit,
and asked her to pray for the neighbors so they may all join her
in Heaven someday. When the sermon ended, the choir arrived.
Mass began. “Please stay in order for the priest to say Mass!”
A woman who was breast-feeding her child quickly pulled
her shirt down. Everyone remained totally silent. The choir lift-
ed everybody up into the spiritual world... When God lovingly
called me home, my soul filled with joy as in a wonderful dream...
23. FUNERAL OF MRS. NAM 129
The voice was clear and the music soothing... The non-Catholics
must have felt the same. Death could be that beautiful!
I concentrated to say a passionate Mass. The Lord must have
presided there. I begged him to bless this wide-eyed non-Catho-
lic crowd with a revelation. I believed that they were meeting
Him in a certain way.
The surrounding looked so bad. The round table was rickety.
The thatched roof of the front porch wasn’t high enough for me
hold the consecrated host up as usual. May be the strict Church
legislators wouldn’t allow me to say Mass in this dire condition,
but I simply thought, The Lord must have presided here like he
had presided in the grotto at Bethlehem; Why bothered!
I concluded the Mass, lit a stick of incense for Mrs. Năm and
gave the rest to Mr. Hai Dưỡng. “The religious performance is
now over. Casket bearers, come forward!.. Stand in guard!.. The
minute of meditation begins!.. Stop!”
Two rows of muscular casket bearers in shorts and bare-
chested filed in, lifted the casket up, bowed down to squeeze
through the narrow parallelogram door, and then walked quickly
to the grave site some forty meters away. I grabbed my camera,
running after them. Sounds of the mourning cries mixed with
the praying of the members of the Catholic Mothers Association
turned into a heart-wrenching chaos. I quickly took the last few
pictures, and rushed back to the hut. Mr. Năm whispered into
my ear “Gimme a mosquito net, Father. I let her take the old one
with her.”
“All right!”
Mr. Hai Dưỡng tugged at my shirt. “Stay for a convalescent
meal with the family, Pastor!”
“Sorry, I have to leave. Please pardon me, Mr. Hai!”
“It’s okay then, but you have to share with me half a glass
of wine for your relationship... Another half, Pastor... Thanks a
lot, Pastor!”...
I got back to the sampan to leave. Meals began to be served.
That was the symbol of appreciation that Mrs. Hai’s family

members offering to the neighbors. The Catholic Mothers also
stayed behind to pray.
Now it’s 8:20 at night. Mrs. Năm’s body must have been laid
to rest there, next to the dense mangrove rows. Her soul may
be astounded in front of the gate of the Father, one that she just
got to know belatedly. In the skewed hut, the dozens of white
weepers must be pondering whether to leave or stay. If staying,
there wouldn’t be enough room to lie down, but leaving would
be pitiful to the deceased... and faraway... in some coastal area,
one of Mrs. Năm’s sons might be still crabbing, unaware of his
mother’s death. No one had informed him, since no one knew
where he was...
8
1
A ripped band of white fabric worn by immediate family members of the de-
ceased as a symbol of mourning, including in-laws and grandchildren.
2
A mix of Northerners’ accent to the Southerners’, unfamiliar to the local audi-
ence in the Far South.
Fish catching, somewhere in Ca Mau, 2008
8
24. THE HIBERNATED SEEDS 131
24. THE HIBERNATED SEEDS
Định Môn, 1963

ODAY A WHOLE FAMILY CONVERTED. It’s a big joy of
a missionary life, but it still needed to be examined.
“What was the cause for your family to convert?”
I asked. “I like this religion long before. When I was young, I
went to Cần Thơ Hospital to take care of my mother. The Sisters
there took real good care of my mother. They were so kind!”...
So, I was reaping a harvest that someone else had sown. I re-
called the words of the Lord in the Gospel of John–I sent you to
reap what you have not worked for!
Those who did all of the laborious sowing were the Sisters
of Divine Providence who had worked at Cần Thơ City Hospi-
tal. They had silently and humbly took care of and visited the
patients day to day. Now, they might have rested in peace at
the Cù Lao Giêng nursing home’s cemetery, or had become old
hunch-backed ladies with walking sticks meandering around on
the nursing home’s walkways, never know that today, in Định
Môn, I was harvesting what they had sown three decades ago...
Cái Rắn, May 17, 1995

Today I went to visit the people with a Parishioner Committee
member. Walking aimlessly from 7:00-10:40 a.m., the last fam-
ily that we dropped by was of Mr. and Mrs. Tư. Both were over
eighty, bedridden. After getting tired of taking to him, I walked
inside to talk to her. “How old are you this year, Bà Tư?”
“Eighty-one. He’s eighty-two”
“Do you eat well, Bà Tư?”
“Too ill for that. Just about half a bowl each time”
“Do you sleep well, Bà Tư?”
“Stay up all night sometimes.”

“So what did you do when couldn’t sleep, Bà Tư?”
“Pray to God for me to get well and having no sickness until
I die. My illness put so much on my children and grandchildren,
wasting all money on medicines”...
“How did you know God and the Mother of God to pray to,
Bà Tư?”
“When I was a little girl, I used to follow Ms. Lucy. She
taught me to pray to God and the Mother of God. I don’t know
where she is now. Did you know Ms. Lucy?”
“Yes, a little. I know that Ms. Lucy was a Sister of Prov-
idence who stayed in Cái Rắn for a while, and wherever she
went, she took you with her. This year, she is over one hundred
years old, in Heaven, and praying for you to convert!”
“I’m too old to go to church, to say the prayers... how can I
do that?”
“There’s no need to, Bà Tư! You just have to love God, that’s
all. God is everywhere, isn’t he?
Cần Thơ, Oct. 12, 1994

I came to the parish of Bảo Lộc, Cần Thơ, to share my evan-
gelizing experiences with the evangelical volunteers during an
evangelization annual meeting. The brethren in the parish and
the nearby areas got so much experiences in their evangelical
missions; but the one who aroused the most enthusiasm was
Rev. Đinh Trọng Tự. The audience fought for questioning.
“What did you do to have so many converts?... Since you came,
how many have you converted to Christianity?... Where did you
find the fund to support the catechists?”... Father Tự razed all
down with an answer that was as wayward as a crab. “I haven’t
done a thing. Just sitting there, shaking my legs, sucking on my
water pipe, and they just poured in converting”... I thought, If
evangelizing was as simple as that, then I could do it too! I was
24. THE HIBERNATED SEEDS 133
fully capable of shaking my legs and sucking on water pipes

just like any other guys!... After some light moments, he seri-
ously reconfirmed “That’s right! I did nothing in this evangelical
mission. The little kid did it... the illiterate old lady did it... the
people with little schooling did it... All that were the power of
the individual blessings”... And then switched right back to his
natural sense of humor, reciting the relevant tales here and there
to prove his claims. At the end, he said that there were so many
converted just because they had some good experiences of the
religion of the Lord. Some converted today because they had at-
tended Christian schools long ago, some did because they once
had a benefactor who was a Christian. There were others who
converted out of respect for an evangelist... Father Tự gleefully
concluded. “Today, I’m so happy to reap a plentiful harvest from
sweat and tears of somebody else that I know not of!”
I believe what my colleague had said, with some reserva-
tions though. Hope that time will tell...
8
1
The Congregation of the Sisters of Divine Providence was founded in Lor-
raine, 1762, by Jean-Martin Moye, priest of the Diocese of Metz, afterwards
missionary to China, for “The propagation of the faith, the ensuring of a
Christian education to children, especially those of the rural population, for
the care of the sick, and other works of mercy.” (Catholic Encyclopedia)
Moye believed that women excelled men in piety, zeal, and prudence, as well
as in their knowledge of religion. Unlike men, who according to Moye, paid
little attention to anything but commerce and the vanities of this world, women
were the ideal servants of their faith. Their ay evangelism became a main force
in gaining new converts. Moye recruited several women, married and single,
to work for the church. Some were called to such service as an alternative to
marriage or remarriage (Christian Virgins in Eighteenth-Century Sichuan, by
Robert E. Entenmann)
On December 1, 1876, six French Sisters of Divine Providence were sent to

Vietnam by the request of Rev. Cordier of Phnom Penh Diocese in Cambodia.
They started their mission first with an orphanage and consequently an el-
ementary school, a vocational school, a hospital, a medical clinic, a maternity

ward, and a leper care center, all in Cu Lao Gieng in An Giang Province.
In 1977, all of the Congregation’s properties were confiscated by the Com-

munist government of Vietnam after a 55-day siege on Cu Lao Gieng. All Con-
gregation’s missions in Vietnam were dismissed. Seven years later, in 1984, the
Congregation headquarters in Can Tho were confiscated after a 21-day siege.
The Provincial Superior Sister and 20 other Sisters were detained.
Now in 2009, the Congregation has a total of 510 Sisters spread-out to 96

Catholic communities and 9 mission stations in 10 dioceses from Kontum to
Ca Mau. (www.betrenthuongcap.net)
Many Sister of Divine Providence were languishing in nursing homes
Or resting here in the Congregation’s

Cemetery in Cu Lao Gieng, An Giang
8
25. GRASSROOTS COMMUNITIES 135
25. GR ASSROOTS COMMUNITIES
Cần Thơ, 1991

ROM THE RECEPTION HALL of the Sisters of Divine
Providence headquarters, I caught a glimpse of some
Sisters carrying books to the library, brand new books.
Couldn’t help it, I ran after them. I borrowed one with a rather
strange name. “New Disciples, Ten Years Later.”
It’s a light-reading material, so there’s no need to slow down
to muse. I read it like a greyhound on a hot track, skipping nap,
staying up all night to finish.
The author was a lady journalist. The time span was ten
years. The first part consisted of the factual journals of how some
grassroots community-based groups were born and operated, the
latter consisted of her evaluations after a 10-yr follow-up.
She chose 12 exemplary groups; among them, some were
started by a gang-leader/drug-abuser... He had transformed like
Saul on the road to Damascus. He gathered his former gang
members to pray and to share the Words. He lived in dire pover-
ty and entrusted his next day to the divine providence. His gang
members, as bad as he was, transformed as he did. They cared
neither for the Parish priest nor the parish, but in the end, they
had found a priest, a monk, to be their spiritual guide....
The Spanish Bishops Conference referred to them as follow:
“...At first, we had doubts. We followed them, and saw the pres-
ence of the Holy Spirit. Now we keep contact with them and
assist them”...
Only now I began to think about the “Grassroots Communi-
ty,” a term that I’ve barely heard of, or paid attention to before.
Saigon, 1992
I went to Lộc Hưng to visit the Parish priest who was a bosom
friend of mine. He was not at home, but his living room was left
wide opened for me. I was making myself at home, rolling a
little ball of tobacco for the water pipe when I got startled–Two
young men were standing right at the door, neither looked too
well educated! “Father, we’d like to see the Parish priest!”
“He’ll be here this evening. Is there anything that I can do
for you?”
“We’ve formed a youth group; In the evening, we gathered
at a certain family to pray. There are too many in the group now,
over 40. No family could accommodate us all. So we’re here for
the permission to pray in the church.”
“What did you form the group for?”
“Well... seeing these youngsters loitering in the evening,
arousing people’s complaints, we gathered them up for cate-
chism and praying just to keep them from loitering.”
“Did the local authorities say anything?” 1
“They like us a lot. Since the group started, there’s no more
problem in the neighborhood.”
“Is there anyone who troubled you?”
“Yes; every evening, while we were praying in the house,
there were some standing outside mocking us”
“How did you deal with that?”
“If those were little kids, we go tell their parents; If those
were adults, we berated them out of there, in their face!”
“Did the Parish priest know of your activities?”
“No.”
“Beside praying, what else did you do?”
“We repeat our Parish priest instructions like children should
attend the evening Mass, come inside the church for Mass”...
Now I found the truly meaning of “Grassroots Community-
based Groups.” Those were groups of common laities who carry
out apostolic works. They marched in parallel with the church

clergy, and in unison with the clergy. They were the mature
laities who didn’t need instructions from the clergy.
The believers of the Apostolic Era had preceded the Apos-
tles in the evangelical mission at Antioch. During that period,
the apostles had not dare to enter homes of the uncircumcised,
let alone evangelizing. They were amazed seeing the Holy Spirit
came down on these people... Thus, mature laities may evange-
lize not necessarily under the control of the clergy, but simply in
parallel and in unison with the clergy. I felt embarrassed, asking
myself, Is there any youngster in my parish engaging in group
activities like these two young men?
The Parish priest came home late that evening. I told him
what happened, and mocked him. “Your parishioners were do-
ing apostolic works like that, and you didn’t even know it?”...
“Of course I do! There are plenty of those here!”...
Now I see those “grassroots communities” popping up like
mushrooms here–Just here, not in my parish. I felt ashamed,
downing my head in silence.
Cần Thơ, 1992

Today I lectured of the method of evangelization in the light of
“The Mission of Christ the Redeemer.” In that, I’ve mentioned
the “grassroots community” as a modern method of evangelizing
that would fit perfectly with this generation. After the lecture, a
friend pulled me to the side, whispered. “Heck of a nuisance...
birds of a feather, flock together... what a mess!”... Wow, this
buddy must have had some troubles with those in his parish.
1. HECK OF A NUISANCE since they have suited themselves,
doing apostolic works without their Parish priest’s knowledge.
2. BIRDS OF A FEATHER since they didn’t care for the Pasto-
ral Council.
3. A MESS since they’ve sought advises from priests and
nuns elsewhere, not from their Parish priests. They went to Sai-
gon to share the Good News. They held meetings in Saigon.
They worked not within their parish, but rather without it.
LIVING IN THE CHURCH, ones have to abide the chain of
command, since the Lord established it Himself...
I listened to a long list of inconveniences and nuisances that
the grassroots community-based groups had created for him. It’s
true, but one thing for sure though–The Lord’s Good News had
widely spread to places where the Parish priests never knew of,
let alone been there. Another certainty–Many priests still take
their Catholic faithful as little children, expecting them to cross
their arms respectfully–Daddy, here I am, leaving for school!
Mommy, here I am, back from school!...
Cà Mau, 1993
At 6:30 this evening, while I was standing at the door waiting
for a pre-convert to come for catechism–in vain–when a cute
young girl cautiously approached.
“How’d you do, ông Cố?”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to choir practice, ông Cố!”
The conversation continued with one subject cutting into
another, aimlessly. Suddenly, she bragged. “Our group has col-
lected nearly $20,000” (~US $2 in ‘93)
“What group?” I asked.
“We have a group of nine, saving up ‘til we get to $20,000;
then go to the market and give it to the lepers and beggars.”
“Don’t you have a name for your group?”
“Our group is ‘Humanitarian’ group”
“Who told you to form it?”
“We did it ourselves!”
Suddenly, I felt tearful. She’s my child, but yet I didn’t know
that she’s been doing apostolic works; I didn’t even provide her
with any guidance. The Holy Spirit had activated her. She was
my pride. She was the “grassroots community” that had popped
up right here in my parish. Thank you, Lord!
I came back to my room, sat down and cried, all alone, joy-
ously.
8
1
Any public meeting of groups over 15 people requires obtaining a meeting
permit from the local government authorities.
Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau (far right) in graduation picture

of a Catechism class, 2005
8
Ca Mau, 2008
8
26. NEW YEAR DAYS IN THE LIFE OF A MISSIONARY 141
26. NEW YEAR DAYS

IN THE LIFE OF A MISSIONARY
Năm Căn, 1992

spent the whole day today to go “chúc Tết” 1 the people
in the commune. The commune spreads six kilometers
along the riverbank. At noon, I arrived at Bà Thanh Canal.
The wooden house on the other side of the bridge didn’t look too
clean, but kind of well off. A man was home alone.
“Pardon me, what’s your family order?”
“I’m the fourth (Tư).”
“I’m the eighth (Tám.) I am the evangelical priest here in
this commune. I drop by to see you and wish your family a new
year full of good health and happiness.”
“My wife and kids were all out, none at home”...
On the ancestors altar, there were two bowls of sweet rice
treats. Mr. Tư took one down. I felt so glad inside, anticipating
that he would offer me one. I would have sincerely swallowed it
all, since my empty stomach felt like it was full of crawling ants.
Anyhow, Mr. Tư looked at my cassock, hesitated for a moment,
then put it back onto the altar. He was awkward like a chicken
trying to swallow a rubber band. To his rescue, I excused myself.
“I’m sorry. I just dropped by to say hi; I have other families to
visit before the day’s end.” Leaving his house, my feet melted,
and dragged...
Coming home at four in the afternoon, starving and com-
pletely exhausted, I threw myself onto the bed fully dressed with
sandals and all. Two more hours to dinner with nothing to munch
on. Just gotta wait. A norm during Lent season anyway.
Lent season was a waiting season. Fasting season was a
waiting season. Old Testament time was a waiting time...
While lying there, waiting, I thought of the bowl of sweet
treat. Mr. Tư was going to invite me to it, but afraid that a Catho-
lic priest wouldn’t touch an ancestors’ offering. I was more than
happy to eat it, but too shy to say it. Mutual understanding, but
too shy to show, blowing a chance to come together. Perhaps
both of us were the slow-reacting kind of guy.
Bạc Liêu, 1984

Today was “mùng bốn,” the fourth day after the Lunar New
Year Day. A Sino-Vietnamese nurse 2 pulled my hand. “Father,
my Dad invites you to our home for lunch today, but you have
to come real early though!”
“Hold on! I don’t get it... I don’t know your Dad, and why
‘real’ early?”
“Last night, my Dad found out that your name was ‘Phúc
Hậu.’ That’s a very lucky name. If he only knew it sooner, he
would have invited you over to “xông đất” 1 on the New Year
Day. Now you may as well come on the fourth. It’s not too late!”
I left immediately.
The homeowner didn’t greet me too warmly. After a short
while, our conversation ran out. His daughter had to give me a
tour of the house, and then the garden, just to kill time.
The lunch was not that great. A few common dishes of the
day–The traditional “bánh tét,” 1 pork stew, and pickles... The
man of the house said a few words; the lady of the house barely
said anything; the daughter had to rescue them both. After a cup
of tea for dessert, I bid them good-bye. What a day!
Cà Mau, 1989
The Saigon–Cà Mau’s express bus seemed to be hurrying home
for Tết’s preparation. I sat in the second row, next to a wom-
an of pretty good size. Perhaps she was too full of energy to
keep quiet. “What’s your birth year?” She asked. “I’m Tý, the
Rat” 3 I replied. “I’m Sửu, the Buffalo. Tý and Sửu pair up very
well, bringing quick wealth in business. It’s too bad that we two
haven’t met any sooner!”... “The buffalo is so big, while the rat
is so small, how could that be?”...
With that mischievous parallelism, I switched her off. She
mused silently. Taking advantage of the silence, I tilted my head
back, pretending to sleep, and felt asleep... When the bus arrived
in Cà Mau, Madame Buffalo was nowhere in sight. She might
have gotten off at Number Two Bridge.

Today the Parish Committee called for a meeting. Subject– Tết
Ất Hợi, the 1995 Lunar New Year.
I informed everyone that this year, the Parish priest and the
parishioners would “chúc Tết” each other in the church. After
that, the Parish priest will close the parish house for a few days
to go “chúc Tết” the non-Catholic. I also asked the Committee
to provide me with the number of poorer families in the parish
so I can find some New Year gifts for them. The Committee
jumped up and down with that idea, crying out almost in unison.
“Oh no! Please!”
Now I understood. Giving to this family, and not that, would
only bring animosity in return. Giving one family the same as
the others would bring the same adverse result. Only if we have
had a computer that can systematically measure the levels of
poverty and analyze the causes, then we might be able to stop
this predicament.
At the end, the Committee agreed to give some gifts to the
non-Catholics. All unanimously voted for the four children of Tư
Lập. Both of their parents died; the oldest sister married away;
the oldest boy was physically disable. The four just scraped by
with the two older boys’ fishing rods... I couldn’t agreed with
them more.
The first Tết at Cái Rắn was like that.

Today I walked over to see the kids at Tư Lập’s to meet with the
poverty at the threshold of the Lunar New Year.
Luyến, fifteen, feet limping, mouth deformed. Lây, twelve,
was kicked out of second grade for excessive unexcused absen-
teeism. The two younger ones, Mười and Nghỉ had left for their
grandma’s. I gave the boy a quick interview–
“When did your Dad died?”
“His first memorial is in March”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Fly fishing in the rice fields.”
“How many pieces of clothing do you have?”
“Few.”
“Any new one for Tết?”
“No.”
Actually, the villagers have been helping them somehow.
The kids also had an uncle nearby who gave them rice from time
to time, but he was dirt poor himself. I silently calculated–There
would be more than enough to give each one a new set of clothes
for New Year.

Today, the Parish Committee took me to some poor non-Catho-
lic families. There were so many of them. Reasons unclear.
There’s a twenty-eight year old woman with four kids. The
youngest one was still in the cradle. Her husband was a rice
porter at the mill. The cause for their poverty might have been
having too many children. I asked them about the incoming Tết,
only to have sheepish smiles for answers. I shook their hands
and wished them prosperity by hardworking, saving, and having
just enough children. To people like them, I didn’t know what
to give for their New Year celebration. Ten kilos of rice? That’s
easy; Few kilos of sugar? Piece of cake! But my true wishes

were for them to work harder and to save more. Without these
two virtues, they would never have a springtime in life.
Don’t give me a fish but a fishing rod, and teach me how to
fish instead–That’s what I always believe in civil development.
8
1
Tết Nguyên Đán, more commonly known by its shortened name “Tết,” is the
most important and popular holiday in Vietnam.
Tết is celebrated on the same day as Chinese New Year, though exceptions
arise due to the one-hour time difference between Hanoi and Beijing. It takes
place from the first day of the first month of the Lunar calendar (around late
January or early February) until at least the third day after the New Year Day.
The Vietnamese Tết shares many of the same customs of its Chinese counter-
part. Many Vietnamese prepare for Tết by cooking special holiday foods and
cleaning the house.
There are a lot of customs practiced during Tết, like “Xông nhà,” “Xông đất,”
or “Đạp đất”–Visiting a person’s house on the first day of the New Year; Cúng
Ông Bà–Ancestors meal offering; Chúc Tết–New Year’s wishing; Lì xì–Giving
money to children and elderly people for luck; Khai trương–Opening a shop,
Xuất hành–First outing of the year, etc...
The traditional New Year greetings are “Chúc mừng năm mới” and “Cung
chúc tân xuân”–Happy New Year. People also wish each other health, pros-
perity, luck, and longevity.
In the days leading up to Tết, people prepare traditional special dishes such
as “Thịt kho”–Pork stew, “Dưa món”–Pickled daikon, “Mứt”–Sugary pre-
served fruits... Some even make the squarish Bánh Chưng and Bánh Dầy–tra-
ditionally in the North, or tubular Bánh Tét in the South. These are essentially
tightly packed and boiled sticky rice with pork and bean fillings wrapped in
banana leaves. Preparations for these foods are quite extensive. For Bánh
Chưng and Bánh Tét cooking, the whole family used to stay up all night, to
keep watch on the fire, telling stories about those Tết’s in the past.
Tết is also an occasion for pilgrims and family reunions. During Tết, people
visit their relatives, temples and churches, forgetting the troubles of the past
and hoping for a better future. Vietnamese consider Tết to be the first day of
Spring, and the festival is often called Hội Xuân, or Spring Festival.
2
Her name is Nguyễn Thị Lệ, who later converted, married to another convert,
moved to and now live in France. Greatly influenced by the apostolic spirits
of the Author, both Lệ and her husband have become highly active lay evan-
gelists. In 2004, they found a translator, Mr. Nguyễn Dương Nghi, had him
translate this Evangelist Diary into French, published and distributed it in
Europe. Mrs. Nguyễn Thị Lệ, her husband and her translator later founded
the VFE – Vietnam France Exchanges.” Though VFE, they have been sending
significant financial and manpower supports for Rev. Ngo Phuc Hau’s build-
ing projects of schools, medical clinics, housings for the poorest, and scholar-
ship to poor students in Cà Mau and Cái Rắn. VFE’s address is hereby listed
on page 329–Contacts..
3
In the Vietnamese zodiac, the cat (Mèo/Mão/Mẹo) replaces the rabbit, the goat
(Dê/Mùi) replaces sheep, and the water buffalo (Trâu/Sửu) replaces the ox of
the Chinese zodiac. The rest remains the same as the Chinese’s.
Counting their catch of “ốc len” (blunt greepers)

somewhere in Ca Mau, 2007
8
27. EVANGELICAL ANNIVERSARY 147
27. EVANGELICAL ANNIVERSARY
Cà Mau, Sunday Aug. 17, 1988

STEPPED UP TO THE LECTERN today more bravely than
ever, boldly announced. “This year, we will celebrate
Evangelization Day big time:
1. EVERYONE INVITES his or her non-Catholic friends to the
Mass. When they come, the laities should give up his or her seat
for them. Mutual understanding between Catholics and non-
Catholics would easily lead to national unification.
2. ASKS NON-CATHOLIC FRIENDS if they have any question,
and forward the questions, if any, to the Parish priest so he can
prepare for answers during Mass.
3. AFTER MASS, invite non-Catholic friends to the eateries
or home to give them a treat, as big or as small as affordable.
Those who love each other share meals together. During meals,
ask them what they think about the Mass.
4. FOR NOT HAVING THEM CONFUSED, let them know that
they may stand up and sit down, but not having to kneel since
kneeling was an act of faith only for the faithful.
5. FAMILIES REMIND EACH OTHER to pray for the non-Cath-
olic to come for the evangelizing Mass. Ask the children, the
elders, and the stricken to help in praying following the example
of Pope John 23rd, since their prayers will be most acceptable
by God.
6. THE CHURCH HAS TO BE decorated to the max. The choir
has to practice to perform their best. The well-planned Mass
rites would become a most suitable environment to take the
non-Catholic souls into the spiritual world––Their hearts will
skip a beat when everybody sing together, and consequently, fall
perfectly silent.
7. THE PRESENCE OF THE LORD himself in the Mass would

deliver their souls to God the Father. He will win the hardened
hearts that we could not... That’s Phillip’s experiences when he
gleefully boasted to Nathan. “I’ve met with the One that Moses
and other prophets predicted–Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth!”
Nathan laughed him off. “Oh, Nazareth? Nothing good comes
out of Nazareth!”... Stuck, Phillip could only say, “Just come
and see it for yourself!”... Lo and behold, when Nathan came to
meet with the Lord, he was immediately convinced.
Cà Mau, Sunday Aug. 24, 1988

Today, I walked up to the lectern like a rain-soaked chicken. The
week went by with not a single question sent in from the non-
Catholic. No laity inviting his or her non-Catholic friends to the
evangelical Mass that I know of. I didn’t hide my disappoint-
ment on the lectern, the exact spot that I, only a week ago, was
gleeful as a kid taking his lantern to the Moon Festival... Must
devise a more practical plan–
1. MUST GET IN TOUCH WITH some influential figures like
teachers, hospital workers... and ask them how to invite the non-
Catholics, how to solicit for questions, and how to communicate
with them during the celebration meals.
2. MUST IMMEDIATELY CONTACT some enthusiastic elders
to rally them and ask them to rally their friends.
3. MUST ASK THE COMMUNE LEADER LAITIES to come visit-
ing the stricken and ask them to pray one rosaries a day for the
non-Catholics.
4. RECITE THE PROGRAM OF THE EVANGELICAL MASS like a
chorus every Sunday from now on.
Cà Mau, Evangelical Anniversary 1998

This evening, the church courtyard was unusually crowded;
Laities and their non-Catholic friends walked leisurely, hand-in-
27. EVANGELICAL ANNIVERSARY 149
hand, all around the church. The women and the girls showed
off their new dresses that must have been made for the occa-
sion. I didn’t sit at the Confessional as usual, but roaming about
instead. Seeing me, the laities smiled ear to ear, introduced to
me copiously “Father, here’s my non-Catholic friend!... Father,
this is Mrs. Năm, the commune civic leader’s wife; She had this
new dress made just for this Mass!... Ông Cố, this guy wanna
convert!... Father, I would like to introduce to you Mr. Tư Giỏi;
He’s a nonbeliever, but he likes Catholic a lot!... We would like
to invite you to join us at our celebration after Mass, Father!”...
The church bells tolled in quick succession. The throng of
people poured into the church like torrents. The nuns and the
Catholic Commune Leaders ran back and forth ushering the
latecomers. Here and there, laities stood up to give up his or her
seat to the newcomers.
Full house! Hands raised, signaling no more seat, disap-
pointedly. A nun took two non-Catholics to where two kids were
sitting comfortably. “Would you please give your seats to the
non-Catholics?” The nun asked. One sullenly protested. “But
this is my non-Catholic friend, Sister!” The nun grinned “So just
sit tight then!”
The questions came in bulk, mostly involved Why priests
didn’t marry and why Christians were not allowed to worship
ancestors? No tough one. I replied them all smoothly and hu-
morously, making both Catholic and non-Catholic audience
laugh heartily. Generally speaking, everyone went home with a
very good impression of the Mass, and of Christianity.
8
28. FORGIVENESS 151
28. FORGIVENESS
Saigon, 1984
HIS MORNING, when the Parish priest walked his Honda
motorcycle into the courtyard, saying “You stay home.
I go to give the New Year wish to the Archbishop,”
I jumped up. “May I go with you?”
“There’s not much there for you anyway; just typical wish-
es, typical replies; then dismiss.” – “But I want to see how you
priests in Saigon wishing each others.” I hopped onto the back
seat without waiting for his reply. “Let’s go!”
There were so many priests in the Saigon Diocese, enviably
so. I hid myself among the unfamiliar faces trying not to be seen.
The opening wish of the representative priest said nothing new;
All wishes were pretty much the same “Wish you health for
guiding the Diocese though all perils”... To that, the Archbishop
replied as any other would “Wish you wisdom and courage to
follow God’s will”...
After the so-called protocols, the norms, the Archbishop
shared his personal feeling towards the current social issues–
“Please be patient, and remain patient. Please be meek, and
forever meek. Let me tell you a story–I am the Archbishop–ev-
eryone knew that; I am an old man–everyone saw that; yet, a
young commune cop, about twenty years old, chided me, You’re
such a nuisance! I had to ignore that just to get it over with.
They’re wrong, just let them be, as long as we’re right. The
more wrong they were, the more right we became”...
After sharing with the Saigon priests a biscuit and a soda,
I urged my friend to leave. Outside the Diocesan House, I for-
got it all, except one statement of the meek Archbishop–They’re
wrong, just let them be, as long as we’re right. The more wrong
they were, the more right we became... I swore to my conscience

that I would always remember that in my entire evangelical
life!
Thinking of Archbishop Bình, 1 I thought of the two apostles
James and John. They were sent out to get things ready for Jesus
in a Samaritan village. When denied, they came back, faces red
with anger, and asked. “Rabbi, do you want us to call fire down
from heaven to destroy them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked “I
did not come to destroy men’s lives, but to save them!”
Saigon, 1984
I spent the New Year this year in Saigon, not as usual. Feeling
guilty, I kept my doors shut so nobody could see me and I could
see no one. I sped through fifteen pages of white papers about
Tai Chi Chuan. 2 Throwing the typewritten pages upon the table,
I laughed “Ho, ho, ho” alone, gleefully; I slipped out loud, in-
voluntarily: “Darn you, why were you so good... yet I haven’t
had a chance to know you ‘til now?”
Tai Chi was a self-defense martial art performed not by using
one’s own strength, but by nullifying the opponent’s offensive
force instead. It was figuratively compared with a rolling ball–
bullets and arrows shot at it would be skipped away–It would
not fight back, since it could not fight back. It had to cancel out
the offensive forces only to survive, and truly survived. It was
also metaphorically compared with a piece of cloth covering a
sewer pipe. The water pressure would tear it apart, and take it
away. In order to continue to exist and to remain, it had to let go
of the whole thing, but hang on just to one single point instead...
Tai Chi had accepted the opposing forces of positive and nega-
tive, opposing only to create. Rain and shine were opposite, but
yet there would not be rain if not for shine. It neither annihilated
nor eliminated, but accepted and mutually gave in to survive
and grow...
28. FORGIVENESS 153
Suddenly, I recalled the teaching of the Supreme Master–

Wish them peace whose ever house that you enter! Meaning
either they were kind or not, we must remain kind. Another
one–Be like our Heavenly Father, He who gives sunshine to the
meek as well as to the sinner...
Continue to be nice to every one. From that, I came up with
an idea of comparing Christianity to water–Water is soft but
equally unyielding. I recalled a physics lesson learned in school–
Water is not incompressible–Water is very humble–people drink
it, but also use it to flush toilets. Water is very meek–it’s round
in a round container, and long in a tubular container. Water is
pure–when polluted, it evaporates or seeps into the earth to pu-
rify itself. Pure water travels all over the sky, and throughout the
earth. Water is very persistent; When blocked by a big boulder,
it would run around instead, and with time, carve into the rock,
and eventually collapse it. The Gospel was like that. With that
thought, I felt so peaceful...
Cà Mau, 1993
Today is Sunday. During the Vice Parish priest’s morning Mass,
I went out patrolling around the church to make it more serene
for the Mass time. The church was not full, yet there was a little
boy standing outside of the side door. I tapped on his shoul-
der. “Come on in, kiddo; there’s enough seat inside!” He turned
around quickly, dashed out to the other door, and stood on the
outside again. The leader’s ego rose up to my nose. Trying to
control myself, I followed him, tapped on his shoulder again. “I
said there is plenty of seats inside!” He turned in an attempt to
run. I grabbed his arm, pulling him in. He spread his legs out,
resisting. All of my kindness and meekness were immediately
evaporated. Grinding my teeth, squeezing my iron hands on his
shoulders, I said. “Are you coming in or not?”
He replied, pouting, indifferently. “I’m just attending Mass
here, doing no wrong... Why are you so mean to me?”

I loosened my grips. He swung around, boldly walked
straight to the gate, and disappeared into the crowd.
He may not ever come back.
I looked up to the altar, to the tabernacle, then to the Cruci-
fix... I couldn’t fix my eyes on any of those; I had to close my
eyes, out of shame. The little kid had taught me a valuable les-
son. He had become my teacher.
Oh my little teacher, today, because of me, you have left the
church. Because of me, you may leave Christianity. Please come
back so my conscience may find its peace again!
Cà Mau, 1993
After the chorus in front of the Virgin Mary monument, I shook

hand with an old friend who was rambling on in waiting for
the crowd to dissipate onto the national road through a narrow
gate...
“Where’s Father Phước now, Father?”
“He died.”
“Oh... I’m sorry!... When he was the Parish priest here,
everything was so neatly in order. Everybody, old and young,
were so afraid of him. Now you all were so easy”...
“You mean you want our parish all neatly in order? Nothing
were as in order as a mechanism; But the parish is not a mecha-
nism... Nowadays, we don’t want to be feared by the laities, but
be loved instead. Fear is an indication of immaturity. Love is a
signal of fraternity. I would rather have a parish that were a little
messy, but in there, the laities were more respected than a parish
that were so in order, the order paid for with dignity”... My friend
seemed lost. He bid me goodbye with a loose handshake.
8
28. FORGIVENESS 155
1
OBITUARY: Archbishop Paul Nguyen Van Binh – THE INDEPENDENT –
Thursday, 27 July 1995 - by Felix Corley:
PAUL NGUYEN VAN BINH headed Vietnam’s largest Catholic diocese for almost
35 years, seeing the capitalist Saigon invaded by North Vietnamese forces and
turned into the Communist Ho Chi Minh City. All his diplomatic skills were
required to steer the Church through these difficult times.
Nguyen Van Binh was born in Saigon in 1910, and given the Christian name
Paul. He showed an early desire to be a priest and was sent to Rome; he was
ordained in 1937. He served in parishes in southern Vietnam before, in 1955,
being consecrated bishop of Can Tho. In 1960 he was transferred to the post
of Archbishop of Saigon.
Vietnam was soon embroiled in all-out war. The Catholic Church was a strong
backer of the South Vietnamese government, though, days before the fall,
Binh called on President Thieu to resign. Saigon fell to Northern forces in
April 1975 and Binh issued a cautious statement welcoming the new peace
and pledging that Catholics would work under the new regime. But reprisals
against the Church began. Hundreds of priests were arrested.
The first big clash Binh had to handle was the Vatican appointment of Mgr
Nguyen van Thuan, the nephew of the former South Vietnamese president Ngo
Dinh Diem, as coadjutor bishop of Saigon with the right of succession to Binh,
who was now 64. Although the conflict was not of Binh’s making, he had to
ride the inevitable storm of orchestrated demonstrations by “patriotic” stu-
dents. Thuan himself was banished from the city.
Unlike the northern Vietnamese bishops in the ‘50s, Binh and his colleague
the Bishop of Hue, Nguyen Kim Dien, sought to forge good relations with the
government based on pragmatism. In 1976, they called on Catholics to help
build the new society. In 1978, Binh even declared that the loss of the Church’s
“privileges” - its landholdings and social institutions - might be a blessing
and help it remain close to the people. Such sentiments were not universally
popular among the Church’s estimated 5 million adherents in the South, es-
pecially when Binh condemned armed resistance to Communist rule. Binh’s
close working with the government was sorely tested in 1980 with the harden-
ing of the regime’s attitude towards the Church and the arrest of the country’s
leading Jesuits, including his friend Rev. Nguyen Cong Doan, the superior.
In 1983 a solidarity committee of Patriotic Vietnamese Catholics was formed,

to act as a pro-Communist front within the Church on similar lines to the Pa-
cem in Terris group in Czechoslovakia and the Catholic Patriotic Association
in China. The government claimed that Binh supported the new organization,
though in reality he was suspicious of it, aware that its predecessor in the
North had acted merely as a government front without popular support. It is a

testament to his skill that the government’s attempts to divide the Church and
isolate it from the world-wide Church failed.
Relations improved after the appointment of Nguyen Van Linh as the Commu-
nist Party secretary-general in late 1986, with the freeing of a large number
of Catholic priests from re-education camps. Not all restrictions were lifted,
though, and Binh faced constant battles for permission for any important new
activity, especially in the area of training and ordaining new clergy. Binh had
for a long time been trying to retire, but the government’s refusal to agree the
Vatican’s choice of successor meant that he had to remain in office up to his
death.
Paul Nguyen van Binh, priest: born Saigon 3 September 1910; ordained priest
1937; Bishop of Can Tho 1955-60; Archbishop of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City)
1955-95; died Ho Chi Minh City 1 July 1995 (Felix Corley)
2
The Mandarin term “T’ai chi ch’uan,” literally translates as “supreme ulti-
mate fist,” is generally classified as a form of traditional Chinese martial arts
of the Neijia (soft or internal) branch. It is considered a soft style martial art,
an art applied with internal power to distinguish its theory and application
from that of the hard martial art styles.
Archbishop Paul Cardinal Francis Xavier Archbishop Phillip

Nguyen Van Binh Nguyen Van Thuan Nguyen Kim Dien
(1910 - 1995) ̣(1928 - 2002) (1921 - 1988)
8
29. THE SHEPHERD WHIP 157
29. THE SHEPHERD WHIP
Cái Rắn, April 23, 1995

said Mass at Mr. Hai Hiếu’s this morning. He lived
amidst a non-Catholic population, and even his wife and
grandchildren were not Catholic. He had quit church for
seventy years. Last time, I inquired the cause of his quitting–
“Why did you quit for so long, Ông (Mr.) Hai?”
“A long time ago, I lived in Trà Lồng. There’s one time
I came late to Mass, and Ông Cố Quimbrot 1 laid me down,
whipped me until my ass bled. I got so scared and angry, so I
just quit, until now”...
“Why did you come late to Mass back then, Ông Hai?
“I lived deep in the countryside, just couldn’t make it”
“Are you still mad now, Ông Hai?”
“No more!”
“So come back now, okay Ông Hai?”
Mr. Hai then confessed, blubbering in tears.
Reverend Quimbrot was so good at civil development. He
was stationed here at Cái Rắn between the end of the ‘20s and
the beginning of the ‘30s. It was he who acquired the villa from
Judge Sửu to turn it into the Cà Mau Parish house where I have
lived for 19 years. The elder priests summarized his life as: En-
ergetic and hot-tempered like Lỗ Trí Thâm in Thủy Hử; 2 That’s
why he had governed with a whip. With that whip, he built par-
ishes that were so orderly and beautiful to look at. However, also
with that whip, he whipped a faithful out of the church. That
faithful has been wandering since he was 19 until now, at the age
of 89, having a chance to come back to the Lord.
The whip had its positive side and negative side, but which
one were the heavier, I could not yet determine.
I related to the great wonders of the world such as the Great Wall
of China and the Pyramids of Egypt, for examples. Nowadays,
tourists admiringly praised those great ancient architectures, and
completely forgetting that, in order to achieve such great monu-
ments, the architects had to pay with millions violations of hu-
man right and dignity. They must have had to use millions of
whips to build the Great Wall and the Pyramids... So, was that
considered gaining, or losing? If it were for legacy, then it would
be a tremendous gain; but if it were for humanity, then it would
be a huge loss, the kind of loss that we now call “bankruptcy”!
Cà Mau, ...
During a catechism class, I asked T., a catechumen. “Before
you came here for catechism, have you ever come inside the
church?”
“No; I just went by, but never into one”
“Why?”
“They said any non-Catholic who get into the church will be
whipped by the priests!”
“Ew! Never!... So have you ever gotten whipped before?”
“I never got inside before!”
For sure there was no priest who would whip a non-Catholic
for checking the church out, or just came in for curiosity. So
why the rumors? With bad intention, or just unintentional?
There’s one thing for sure–many laities like to use their Par-
ish priests as scarecrows. “If you don’t go to church, I’ll tell the
ministerpa, 3 the ministerpa will beat the hell outta you!” Or “If
you don’t stop fooling around with that girl, the ministerpa will
kil’ ya!”
One day when I was walking on the street, there was a wom-
an who threatened a little boy who was crying like a broken
muffler. “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll tell the ‘pa, and the ‘pa
will cut your little dick off!” The little boy, looked at me, his
face turned totally green... I was upset at the women for using
me as a scarecrow to scare the daylight out of the little boy.
Unknowingly, she had sown deep inside that boy a seed of fear.
Later, in his adulthood, he would keep Christianity in fear–fear
of God, fear of priests, and fear of hell...
Somehow, fear had become the base for shepherding activi-
ties. After reciting the story of “Ananias and Saphira Lied to
Peter,” 4 the author of Acts had observed “Great fear seized the
whole church”...
Assuming that others were like me, I thought, Saint Peter
must have been gravely sad when people spread the story of
Ananias and his wife Saphira who got punished by him, and
dropped dead horribly right at his feet without stirring him a bit.
In the story, Peter the Shepherd was described as a cold-blooded
leader who later ordered some young men to carry the couple’s
bodies out to burry, despite of any rituals and laws...
People had painted images of the shepherds like that. It’s not
fair! What happened to the image of a good shepherd who took
his sheep to a green meadow to eat, to a creek of clear water to
drink, to let them rest in the shade of a giant oak tree; wrap their
injuries, carry the lost and found one on his shoulders, and beat
the wolves off with his stick to protect his herd?
Cần Thơ, 1968

Today, a man took a child of eleven to the office. He asked to
have the child registered for the sixth grade. He carefully ad-
monished me how to educate his child. Before leaving, he gave
me one last instruction. “I entrust my child onto you. Beat him
up all you want, as long as you’re not going to kill him”...
His words enraged me. They took me as a prison boss, or
worse yet, an executioner. They entrusted their kids to me so I
could beat their kids up for them. What a shame!
But come to think of it, that was an ancient tradition. It was
my mother herself back then who kept repeating such “golden

rules” as Whipping is loving! Being a “golden rule,” that prov-
erb had turned into part of the shepherding as easy as a breath.
That’s why the “House of God” back then proudly described
its pedagogy principles as Students’ asses are (to be abused as
much as) cutting boards of the riches.
The whip in the scholar environment seemed to retain some
values to a certain extent and under certain circumstances. But
in pastoring, it had only become a shame of the pastor.
8
1
Quimbrot Yves (1881-1956)––French Evangelist––born Jan. 7, 1881, admit-
ted to Seminary Sept. 11, 1899, ordained June 26, 1904, assigned to Cambodia
Aug. 3, 1904. After learning the languages, he was sent to Tám Hạt, Tân Lập,
Vietnam in 1905–in charge of Trà Lồng from 1908 to 1929. During this period,
founded a new parish in Cà Mau; then transferred to Cần Thơ in 1940, and
died in Sóc Trăng June 26, 1956.
2
Lỗ Trí Thâm (Lu Zhishen in Chinese,) is the major character in the classic
Chinese novel Thủy Hử (Shui hu zhuan in Chinese, literally Water Margin,
translated as “All men are brothers” by Pearl Buck,) in which he comes to
epitomize loyalty, strength, and justice, but also rash action.
3
An informal translation of an informal compound noun of “ông Cố Sở,” liter-
arily “Minister Great Grandpa”
4
The story of “Ananias and Saphira Told a Lie”–The account of this in Acts,
chapter 5, is one of the most unsettling stories in the Bible:
“... Now a man named Ananias, together with his wife Sapphira, also sold a
piece of property. With his wife’s full knowledge he kept back part of the money
for himself, but brought the rest and put it at the apostles’ feet. Then Peter
said, “Ananias, how is it that Satan has so filled your heart that you have lied
to the Holy Spirit and have kept for yourself some of the money you received
for the land? Didn’t it belong to you before it was sold? And after it was sold,
wasn’t the money at your disposal? What made you think of doing such a
thing? You have not lied to men but to God.” When Ananias heard this, he fell
down and died. And great fear seized all who heard what had happened. Then
the young men came forward, wrapped up his body, and carried him out and
buried him.
About three hours later his wife came in, not knowing what had happened.
Peter asked her, “Tell me, is this the price you and Ananias got for the land?”
“Yes,” she said, “that is the price.” Peter said to her, “How could you agree to
test the Spirit of the Lord? Look! The feet of the men who buried your husband
are at the door, and they will carry you out also.” At that moment she fell down
at his feet and died. Then the young men came in and, finding her dead, car-
ried her out and buried her beside her husband. Great fear seized the whole
church and all who heard about these events” – Acts 5:1-11
The above story of “Ananias and Saphira Told a Lie” is one of the most unset-
tling stories in the Bible. While this kind of deception and hypocrisy should
not be condoned, one might be forgiven for thinking that worse lies have been
told, yet Ananias and Saphira were punished by death on the spot. This is a
good example of how God sees things differently to the way man sees them.
“My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways, declares
the Lord” (Isa 55:8-9)
8
30. ANCESTORS MEAL OFFERING 163
30. ANCESTORS MEAL OFFERING
Sóc Trăng, 1961

ODAY IS SUNDAY, my day off from the teaching duty. I
went out for apostolic works in the Legio Mariae’s way.
I dropped by the hospital, wandering around visiting the
patients from room to room. The last patient was an old man of
seventy-two. After rambling on the mundane, we became closer.
The old man assertively said “Let me ask you this–100 people
went out for the pastries–how many would buy for their parents,
and how many would buy for their kids?” I just gave him a smile
for an answer. He eagerly said. “Ninety-nine would buy for their
kids, and one would for the parents. The debt owed to the par-
ents was huge, yet the children were paying back so little!”
His voice started to break up. He turned his eyes up to keep
his tears from rolling down, then blubberingly continued. “When
I was young, I was so hyper, causing so much troubles for my
parents. Now I’m old, I realized that I owed to them so much. I
wanted to pay them back now. If they were still living, whatever
they want to eat, I’d make sure that they’d have it!”
“Both your parents had deceased, so what do you do to pay
them back now?” I asked,
“The dead cannot eat anything anymore; Perhaps just a
lousy food tray here, a lousy stick of incense there, that’s all!
What else can be done?”
I felt pity for the old man. Too late to repent; too late to pay
back; Now, just offering a meal, lighting up a stick of incense...
feeling so guilty not knowing that if that would help the parents
on the other side in any way, or not. That’s why he criticized
himself: “just a lousy food tray here, a lousy stick of incense
there”... with a respectable sincerity. I asked myself, Was the
tradition of food offering to the ancestors started from such sor-

rowful and puzzled souls?
For centuries, Christians used to snicker at the ancestors
meal offering, considered it superstitious and useless. Certainly
it was useless faith-wise, but it was very useful for psychologi-
cal education instead. It originated from filial piety, 1 and it en-
couraged filial piety; So, in evangelical missions, should it be
baptized, or should it be abominated? Anyhow, we should not
laugh at it. Scoffing at it would be a grave insult to filial piety of
the non-Christians.
Lung Tra, 1975

After two weeks of eating brown rice with sea salt, 2 today I was
invited to eat at Mr. Hai Bến Tre’s. White rice, braised tilapia
and vegetable soup... Just looking at those was enough to make
me drool.
There were five people around the food tray, but yet the little
Thu Hà had scooped rice into six bowls. I asked Mr. Hai:
“There’s one missing, and who’s that, Mr. Hai?”
“That bowl is for Thu Hà’s father. He was shot and killed
by a helicopter last year. Her mom remarried. She and her little
brother live here with me.”
I looked at the little Thu Hà. The little girl looked back at me
with big teary eyes. At the end of the meal, she shared that bowl
with her little brother...
I was truly moved by the bowl of rice for the deceased. It
was a living memory, a practical reminder, and at the same time,
a truly romance.
Love binds the living and the dead. The gap is invisible and
infinity, but we still try to turn something intangible into tan-
gible, and infinity into finite...
That was so logical, but yet so sensible!
Cà Mau, 1992
Today I went out to anoint an elder. His death was imminent, but
yet he was still very clear-minded, intelligent, and calm.
“Are you afraid of death, Ông Năm?”
“No, I’m fully prepared for it; Whenever God calls, I’ll just
say yes”...
“Since you are coming back to God first, Ông Năm, remem-
ber to pray for me, okay. I’m hereby giving you this assignment:
Ask God to let more people of this village to get to know Him
like you did. I’ll check with God, if you don’t pray for those
who didn’t know God, then he shouldn’t let you come into the
Heaven!”
He smiled, showing appreciation for the serious part of the
joke. After that, he called for his second son, admonishing. “Af-
ter I die, remember to pave the entryway to make it higher so
those who come for the rituals may keep their feet clean. Offer
them proper meals to show appreciation for their valuable con-
tributions. They come here out of love for us. The pig, chickens,
ducks, all accounted for. Just go ahead and do it”...
The old man’s sincere instructions had made me wonder.
In the first reflection during the Lent Season of the year, the
priests were totally against sharing meals at the funerals. Several
suggested the issuance of an order forbidding it throughout the
Diocese. Everybody considered sharing a meal next to a dead
body was horrible, uncivilized, unsanitary, and an unjustifi-
able expense. It was obvious that there was a mutual agreement
among priests in this matter. I have felt the same myself. I came
to quite a few funerals just to light a few sticks of incense, say
a few words of condolence, and left; At most, I would stay for a
cigarette, or a cup of tea... but never for the meals offered.
Now I asked myself–Why was that what I considered dis-
gusting, Mr. Năm took it so lovingly, so sensibly, and so logi-
cally? On his last breaths, he didn’t forget to instruct his children
to properly take care of the meals to show appreciation to the

funeral attendees. Those meals to him were obligations; they
were his expressions of love... But yet to me and other priests,
they were disgusting, uncivilized, and unjustifiably wasteful.
In a few more days, Mr. Năm would close his eyes, leaving
this world. His children would prepare the meal before, and the
meal after the burial, since that was his last wishes, and last
wishes were sacred. Would I or should I give an order to forbid
them? Could I forbid them? If yes, then in the name of what–
Culture? Or just regulations?
For sure I wouldn’t share those meals, but I would truly re-
spect them. I would never forbid them, since I have had abso-
lutely no right to do that. I would also truly consider such for-
bidding ridiculous, like a leader enforcing his sentiments upon
his subjects. Wouldn’t such forbidding be just like a man of the
house forbidding everybody in his house from eating durian just
because the smell and the color of the fruit?
8
1
Filial piety is a concept originating with Confucianism that significantly
transformed the way Buddhism practiced in Asia. Even today, filial piety is an
essential element of Asian cultures, including Vietnamese’s, and since it is not
a religious concept, it has formed an acceptable part of the way the Vietnam-
ese relate to their parents and ancestors, or elders. Practicing filial piety often
exists outside of Vietnam among immigrants, although the difference between
eastern and western concepts of what is due to parents has certainly produced
great tension in some families.
Essentially, filial piety is one of the “right” relationships for which Confucius
advocated. The definition includes the responsibility of each person to respect
their parents, obey them, take care of them as they age, advise parents, and of
course to love them.
Loving one’s parents and offering them respect is the spring from which other
forms of filial piety flows. A relationship with parents must be centered on love
and respect.
Also, Confucius often emphasized the circuitous relationship of life. When the
child is young, the parent is strong, preeminent and due all respect. When the
child becomes an adult, he or she must take the place of the parent and lead
the family.
In addition to respect and care for the parents, filial piety also existed in the
form of ancestor ‘worship.’ Respect was due to ancestors, and most Asians,
including Vietnamese, often constructed shrines to their ancestors. In fact, in
some eras, failure to properly worship ancestors was grounds for corporal
punishment. As a whole, the ancestors supported the nation and needed due
respect because they could influence how the world worked for the present
generation.
Worshipping ancestors is an essential part of filial piety in Vietnam, and often

seen as an almost religious act that conflicts with a modern life, and especially
with Christians’ monotheism.
2
Two weeks of detention in Kien Vang prison camp (Jan 05 to Jan 15, 1975).
8
31. FIRE DANCE SUPERSTITION? 169
31. FIRE DANCE SUPERSTITION?
Cà Mau, ...
HIS MORNING, I went out for Mr. Tư’s funeral in the
ghetto at the cemetery, the sloppiest and most hooky
area. There were just a few families in there, all messed
up from generation to generation. Living just a few kilometers
from the church, yet they have never come to the church for
Mass. A couple years earlier, I visited them during Tết. Walk-
ing along the riverbank, seeing a Catholic altar inside a house,
I dropped in, smiling and talking like a long lost friend of the
family. The whole family looked that me astounding, making
me feel so out of place.
“Who are you looking for, uncle?”
“I’m a priest, visiting the neighborhood for the New Year
wishing.”
“Priest? From which parish?”
“I’m the Parish priest”
“Oh my God!”...
Today they have made me feel out of place again. They had
asked me to come for the funeral, but when I arrived, they were
already in process of taking the casket down to the grave site.
The carriers placed the casket in the middle of the front yard.
The grinning “Ông Địa” 1 with a face round as a full moon was
fanning left and right. The acrid smoky torches were waving
side-to-side, flaring up and down. The kids were laughing “he-
he-he”... The white weepers temporarily stopped weeping, hav-
ing their mouths wide opened... following the flickering torches
waving underneath the casket, sneaking in and out between the
legs of the carriers...
After the confounding moments, and the moments of curios-
ity, I turned around leaving, with my ego flaring up and down

like the casket carriers’ torches. Gotta have some restrictions to
stop these superstitions, to forbid the hiring of carriers burning
those exorcist torches. “Ông Địa” had to stop fanning, and stop
grinning inappropriately right next to the people’s misery...
Cà Mau, 1993
Today the Vice Parish priest went out for Mr. Ba P’s funeral.
During dinner, he told a story–
“Today, after the Mass, there was a fire dance to ward off
the devils. The ‘demon’ who crawled underneath the casket got
pulled out for a sword fight; After a while, he ran away... people
were so thrilled!”
“Was there any superstition in it?”
“Dunno!... But it was fun... That’s very much like brother
N.–showing off just to be different!”
I didn’t know what to say since my thoughts were so dis-
persed, and couldn’t be recollected. I pondered how to deal with
that. I figured if restrictions were applied, there must be more
gaining than losing, But losing was for sure....

I went away for a week. Tonight, I got a parish progress report.
“Did Mrs. Sáu get any better?” I asked. – “She had died. Every
time you went away, there’s bad news at home, if not this, then
that. If you keep leaving, people at home will got superstitious
just like the non-believers”... “Like what?” – “Like at Mrs. Sáu’s
funeral, for example. The whole family were members of the
Parish Committee, but yet they hired the carriers to come to get
rid of evils and ghosts”...
I have to study this carefully before coming up with any con-
clusion. It might have been a superstition, but it might as well
part of the culture... Cultural assimilation was urgent, but it’s
31. FIRE DANCE SUPERSTITION? 171
not that easy... I used to get goose bumps just having the casket
carriers’ exorcist fire dance mentioned; But today, I felt more at
ease. I have the means for research. All it takes is to meet with
Mr. Hai Hạo, the local Red Cross Manager to find out.
Cái Rắn, Dec. 9, 1995

Today, Mr. Hai Hạo dropped by. He boasted that the local Red
Cross funeral team has achieved remarkable records in the vil-
lage; then sighed. “Payments for the carriers’ uniforms, for the
dance instructor... were over 2 millions (~US $200,) a debt unpaid.
Do you have any fund to pitch in to help?”
Talking of the casket carriers dance lessons, I immediate-
ly thought of the exorcist fire dances. Forgot the debt issue, I
jumped right into the exorcist part. “The casket carriers’ exorcist
performance... wasn’t that superstition?”
“That’s more of an ancient folklore actually.”
“Which folklore?”
“Nhan Quang was a mandarin, talented, filial, but straight as
an arrow. He was wanted for rebelling against a corrupt imperial
government. He escaped into a mountain with two of his closest
friends. They practiced martial arts during the day, and learning
at night. Once they had robbed a government’s food supply
convoy to redistribute to the poor. Beloved by the people, he
recruited twelve more disciples.
“One day, his father died. The government knew that he
would come out for his father’s funeral, so they sent General La
Hầu ambushing him. La Hầu was ugly as a devil. He sneaked
into the village and hid underneath the casket.
“As predicted, Nhan Quang, in the darkness of the night,
came in the flickering light of the torches, and with his twelve
disciples. Already informed by the villagers, Nhan Quang was
ready for a duel. His two generals Tả Hoàng and Hữu Hoàng
took turns searching for La Hầu in the house. La Hầu came out.
A fight broke out among the three with no winner. Nhan Quang
jumped in, La Hầu ran away. His twelve disciples jumped right
in to take the casket to the bury site”...
“Was that folklore Chinese’s or ours?”
“Dunno!”
“Nhan Quang was the mandarin of which dynasty?”
“Dunno!”
“Nhan Quang was a mandarin with the last name Nhan, or
Quang? The word ‘Quang’ got a ‘g’ or without a ‘g’?”
“Dunno!”
“Was La Hầu a real name, or just because the guy looked
like a monkey, so named after one? “Hầu” means “monkey;” a
monkey with the last name “La”?”
“Who knows”...
So, the issue was not clarified, but now I realized that the
funeral’s fire dance was sensible and logical. It had shown both
Filial Piety and Courage. It was cultural, and at the same time,
religious. I told Mr. Hai Hạo “When I die, send your carriers
team over for a fire dance, okay?” –(laugh) “There’s still an un-
answered question, Pastor! Is there any possibility for you to
come up with something to help the branch office of Red Cross
in paying for the debt to Miễu Bà Chúa Xứ Association?”
“I dare not promising anything. I’m just a gutter, not a lake.
The gutter only got water when it rains. When it’s gonna rain?
Only God knows! Ask God, don’t ask me the gutter!”...
8
1
Ông Địa, Thổ Công, or Thần Tài in Vietnamese is the Happy Maitreya Bodhi-
sattva, commonly depicted as a fat laughing ‘Buddha’.
32. HOUSE OF WORSHIP 173
32. HOUSE OF WORSHIP
Cái Rắn, October 25, 1995

ODAY I FINISHED “IF WE WERE IN LOVE” a novel by
Đoàn Thạch Biền in one shot. The writer mentioned a
church, a dilapidated church of immigrants who came
from the North in 1954. It reminded me of another church de-
scribed by Ma Văn Kháng in “A Wedding With No Marriage
Certificate.” The two churches were alike: Dilapidated and tat-
tered. The two groups of believers were alike: Shabby and sad.
Looking at the two tattered churches with shabby believers, both
writers thought that religions were originated from the misers,
and churches were places where the misers came to “beg for
manna” 1 (sic). The tattering appearance of the believers and
their humbling posture were readily deemed begging.
I felt sad when religion was considered that low... But what
could be done when the churches–symbols of the religion–had
failed to represent the higher meaning of faith? They’re so di-
lapidated, so tattered! In 1989, I came to visit several parishes.
There was one with a tiny church with mold-infested columns.
Paint on the six candle holders on the altar were peeling; the rot-
ten lilies gave off a putrid smell. The Saints’ statues were slop-
pily painted with lips so red and messy... I thought, if I weren’t
yet a believer, I wouldn’t follow the religion of this church!
This morning I went for the groundbreaking ceremony of Khánh

Hưng Church. Three speedboats departed from the church of
Bảo Lộc in Cà Mau. The boats, powered by automobile engines,
launched forward, tearing into the clear blue water disrespect-
fully like gangsters violating a sacred land. Within 150 minutes,

they swallowed up a route of almost 50 kilometers.
There was Khánh Hưng! The first sight was two lay repre-
sentatives in uniforms like those of multi-star young hotel re-
ceptionists’. Next was two rows of youngest church members.
The boys and girls of Khánh Hưng today had turned into a float
of butterflies–beautiful hairstyling, beautiful shirts, beautiful
trousers... but their feet were deep in mud. The malicious rain
last night had turned the church area into a mud field. The laities
had poured hundreds of bags of rice hulls onto the mud, but that
wasn’t good enough to rescue the flashing sequined shoes. The
beauties from Saigon shook their heads in despair...
The Mass began. The concelebrants entered the sanctuary in
line. None of them kept their hands together in praying position;
None of them looked solemnly straightforward–one hand hold-
ing cassock up, the other keeping balance, feet feeling around
for the narrow planks somewhere down there in the mud... The
church was just a temporary shelter that hastily erected on the
mud field just for this ceremony. The corner stone was put on a
dirt mould soft as mud... The “Ground-Breaking Ceremony of
Khánh Hưng Church” was just that. Mud, mud, and mud... That
was how it began. Don’t know how it’s gonna end though!

During dinner, I asked a nun. “Why there’s no flower on the
altar?” – “The Lent Season begins today, Father.” – “Oh yeah...
but anyhow, let’s forget that rule. Our church looks bad enough
already. Letting it look any worse would be a sin”...
When I first came to station at Cái Rắn, I felt like this church
was more of a “stall” of worship instead of a “house” of wor-
ship. The palm-leaf roof, palm-leaf walls, wood-stick window
bars had made it look so much like a water buffalo stall. But
somehow, I still said Mass in it with zeal. The church was poor,
32. HOUSE OF WORSHIP 175
but not shabby. The Sisters had polished each and every burned-
clay floor tile. The altar always had flowers–fresh from the gar-
den that they and the students carefully watered everyday in a
land where freshwater was a scarcity. That’s exactly what “Hun-
gry but clean; Tattered but smelled good” meant.
Sơn Tây, 1990

This morning I followed the delegation of Minh Hải’s priests
for a tour of Phát Diệm church, a national cultural monument.
They narrated so much about the building project–One million
bamboo trees were used for piling... Ten thousand laities had
worked simultaneously... The boulder used for flooring at the
main entry, twenty ton in weight, was cut and transported from
Thanh Hóa... Pastor Trần Lục was a genius in architecture. He
was the project manager, the organizer... Dozen of questions
followed. “How did he mobilize that kind of manpower? Mov-
ing a boulder that big from Thanh Hóa to Phát Diệm? Raising
such rocks to such heights?”... I caressed each teak column, each
marble block, each stone and wood carving... everywhere I saw
the exceptional abilities of Cụ Sáu. 2 Phát Diệm was Cụ Sáu. Cụ
Sáu was Phát Diệm. Perhaps the tourists who came here could
only see Cụ Sáu and Cụ Sáu... I thought of the other world cul-
tural monuments like St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, for example.
What would the tourists come, if not for admiring the legacies of
legendary artists like Michelangelo or Raphael Sanzio? I silently
asked myself, Should man invest his manpower, materials, and
money in such a scale only to obtain such purpose nowadays?
Were churches built for the glory of God, or for artists to leave
their legacies behind?
Saigon, Nov. 14, 1995

I had lunch at the canteen on 370 Cách Mạng Tháng Tám Blvd.
this afternoon. A senior priest asked me. “It has been twenty
years since you left for Năm Căn; So, in twenty years, how many
churches did you build?” I said, “Lots of “huts” of worship, but
no “church” yet. I am dreaming now of a floating one so I can
take it with me wherever I go”...
Yes, it’s true! I asked myself, Why I was not too much into
church building? Perhaps I didn’t have time to think of it, or, per-
haps my Bishop didn’t want me to build material churches, but
building people instead? I once mentioned to him that I wanted
to build a church in Cái Rắn; He seemed to be inconclusive. At
the end, he gave me a light, neither red nor green, but yellow.
“It’s up to you!” The message was clear: Build people first!
8
1
Manna, literally the food miraculously provided for the Israelites in the wil-
derness during their flight from Egypt according to the Bible, also means the
spiritual nourishment of divine origin, or something of value that a person
receives unexpectedly.
2
Phát Diệm Cathedral, also known as the “Stone” Cathedral, was designed
and built in 1891 by priest Trần Lục, also known as Cụ Sáu, in Ninh Bình
province, 130 km south of Hanoi.
8
33. CONTEMPLATING JESUS 177
33. CONTEMPLATING JESUS
Cà Mau, ...
ÍCHNGÂNCAMETOSEEME. Herfamilywasnon-Christian,
but they had taken me as a member. She called me uncle.
“Can you give me a Bible that is real easy to read, uncle?”
“I’ll give you one with a lot of footnotes. Bible without explana-
tory footnotes would be difficult to absorb. The Bible language
is language of the first century, of Grecian Latin, of Semitic, and
of Mediterranean”...
“My Bible has lots of footnotes too, but I was still unable to
understand”
“Then you have to come here and read it with me”
“I don’t live here; Besides, I have very little time for it. If it
were written in a short-story format, it would be so much more
convenient for me”...
After that meeting, I felt that there were people who read
and understood the Bible only by its cover. The Lord’s will was
expressed in Semitic, meagerly to the extreme. Even John had to
divulge to his readers. “If every single thing were written down,
then the world wouldn’t be big enough to store them all!” That’s
a little bit exaggerated, but it was true that the journalists had
noted down so briefly the Jesus’ words and deeds to the point
that most of the backgrounds were left out, making it so hard for
the readers to know exactly what he really wanted.
From that moment on, I had dreamed of a book that presents
the Gospel in form of literature, with a lot of cultural, social,
geographical, historical, and psychological backgrounds.
Lâm Quang Trọng had written a book that now I could only
vaguely remember–”The Life of Jesus.” Angelo Alberti had writ-
ten “Les Messages des Angelides,” and more recently, Jacques
Duquesne wrote “Jesus” 1 that had stirred up a lot of debates...
Cà Mau, 1994
Today I wrote to Lecturer Rev. Chương at Cái Răng Seminary.
Dear Brother Chương,
I want to write “Jesus Diary.” The diary will be what the Gospel said, but as
literature instead. Nothing will be conflicting with the Gospel, only the Gos-
pel plus non-inclusive, yet still in tuned with psychology, history, geography,
and culture of the Semite. In writing “Jesus Diary,” I want to introduce Jesus
to the younger generation, a fast-paced one, too impatient to read Gospel as
the researchers do–reading text above then reading footnotes below. They
like to read something short, easy to understand, and spellbound. Tell me
what you think!
Cà Mau, 1994
Today I received a reply letter from Rev. Chương:
Dear Brother Tám,
“Jesus Diary” sounds good! That would be a new and uncommon idea. It’s
not only new, but also uncommon, so there will be pros and cons. But go
ahead, and send us some so we can check it out. Who knows, “Jesus Diary”
might become a best-seller!”
Why Jesus presented in that way was considered new and un-
common? On the contrary, I thought that Jesus would be a lot
closer to, and held dearer by the youngsters.
Father Chương’s remark had turned me off, not wanting to
think of “Jesus Diary” anymore...
Saigon, 1994
After a week preaching “Ecclesiastical Jesus,” today, I left Tân
Lập’s Congregation of the Lovers of the Holy Cross to come
33. CONTEMPLATING JESUS 179
back to Cà Mau. In the farewell speech, I my tongue slipped. “I

have a big dream: Writing a diary of Jesus for the youngsters to
study Jesus easier. Pray for the ‘Jesus Diary’ please!”...
I immediately felt regret, but it was too late. Four horses
wouldn’t be able to take it back. So be it! “ Jesus Diary will be
the Gospel studies written as literature. Guaranteed no heresy!”
Cà Mau, September 10, 1994

Today, I tried the first diary page of Jesus, not to stir controversy
or to get famous, but only to observe Jesus in my own way.
I like Anne Frank’s presentation with each page written to an
unknown friend that she referred to as Kitty: “Dear Kitty”...
Nazareth, ....
Dear Father,
Today is Sabbath Day, Daddy and Mommy took a day off, so I was free. I went
to Grammy’s house. Grammy was so glad to see me. She held me, kissed me,
and gave me dried dates, then some bread and grilled lamb. Grammy talked
a lot. All of a sudden, she got mad. She put a finger to my forehead, saying
“You’re a good boy, of good health and good manner; But there’s one thing
I don’t like about you! You don’t look a bit like your Dad! And your mother
too; So meek, yet so unfortunate! What’s that a woman who bore only one
child, then having her belly locked up by Yahweh? And your Dad too! What a
wife-fearing man–whatever his wife said, whatever his wife wants... Ah, he’s
as meek as a piece of clay–” “Grammy, Grammy, lemme tell ya–” – “What
a smart boy huh? Changing the subject huh? Taking side of your parents
huh?” Seeing Grandma still mad, I pulled her neck down, kissed her on the
cheek, then ran home. I jumped onto my Mom’s laps, telling her everything
that Grandma had said about Mommy and Daddy.
But Mommy was not mad; she just smiled a sweet smile. “Yahweh’s will was
miraculous, son! Grammy wouldn’t be able to understand... She’s just like
that. Loving, but complaining; Complaining, but loving!”...
Cái Rắn, June 19, 1995

Before picking up my chopsticks for dinner, I read a page of
“Jesus Diary” to the Sisters. “Did I write okay, Sisters?”
“Charming, spellbinding. This is the first time we experi-
enced a new and uncommon way in presenting Jesus” Sister
Hồng Quỳ said, inconclusively.
“If it were sent to the newspapers, there might be 50% pro,
and 50% con,” that’s Sister Út Tài’s opinion...
Who’ll pro and who’ll con, I don’t know. Why pro and why
con, I wouldn’t care. But I will write; Write about my beloved
Lord Jesus, and send to those who want to contemplate Jesus
like I do.
8
1
“Jesus: An Unconventional Biography” by Jacques Duquesne, first published
in French in 1994, is “unconventional” derives in part from the paucity of his-
torical sources. The task of constructing a biography of Jesus is both imagi-
native and controversial; much has been written (and passionately believed)
about this character, though little is known. Duquesne returns to the biograph-
ical form, largely abandoned when it comes to Jesus as a subject, because of
its popular accessibility. The result is a summary of scholarly research that,
though it does not set out to replace that research (or, wisely, even attend to all
of it,) makes it more widely accessible, and may provoke readers to explore it
further – Steve Schroeder.
34. MY CAI RAN 181
34. MY CAI R AN
Cà Mau, April 20, 1994

ROTHER TÁM, the big boss called you!” – “Thanks!” I
came to the Bishop room; the Dean, 1 Mười Râu and
Vinh “Giò Gà” were there already. I nervously thought,
“Uh oh... big problem!” The Bishop said, “Do me a favor–Why
don’t you go to Cái Rắn to help Father Mười with the Mass a
few times a month, for example. Pastor Mười traveled back and
forth too often, too much for him. He needs to watch his health
in the long run.”
“Your Excellency, just assign me to Cái Rắn then, please! I
have to stay there permanently to know what to do”...
“Alright, I’ll take care of that, since at the end of June, there
will be some new Pastors coming anyway. You just go ahead to
help Father Mười from now to July!”
“Your Excellency, if you don’t assign me to Cái Rắn, then I
am not going to help Father Mười anyway!”

Today, I said the first Mass in Cái Rắn. The cassocks, surplices,
chasubles... of Rev. Mười were all too large. The church was
only 160 square meters (1,722 sq2) but why there was no people’s
odor? So comfortable!
I did a quick count: Eighty-two heads, with only two belong
to men! I also counted nine windows. The windows stayed open
days and nights to let the seasonal winds in and out freely. The
church roof was palm-leafed. The walls were also palm-leafed.
No wonder why the church was always cool as if it were in a
palm forest.
Mười Râu, I remembered that during the reflection days
in April, you’ve reported. “The church in Cái Rắn was falling

apart. The roof sagged down almost a third. During the mon-
soon, water had poured down from above, blown in from the
sides... I have tried to re-roof it. The laities had contributed two
millions (~US $200) Collecting donations added a little more to
that. The total expense was almost $20 millions.” ($2,000) Poor
Cái Rắn! Poor you! And poor me...
Cái Rắn, October 27, 1994
SIX-THIRTY this morning, I received the Provincial People

Committee’s approval for me to be transferred to Cái Rắn as
requested by the Cần Thơ Bishop from Mr. Hai Chuẩn, Vice
President of Religion Department of the province. I got to the
motor-sampan, leaving right away. “Dear Cái Rắn! From now
on, you and me will become as one”...
EIGHT-TWENTY, the two motor-sampans pulled over to the
church pier. A dozen kids clapped their little hands sporadically.
I bowed my head down, entering the welcome gate made of two
cork wood trees, walking tall to the reception, as cocky as a mar-
tial artist performing martial art in an empty jungle.
NINE O’CLOCK, dressed in a yellow chasuble, I entered the
“stall of worship.” In front of me were 16 concelebrants.
While the Dean read the letter of assignment, the greetings
of the parish representative, I let my soul wandering around. I
knew that the Movement of Catholic Resistant in Cà Mau Prov-
ince had taken place here. Rev. Võ Thành Trinh 2 had said Mass
here. After that, it was years of resistance wars. Cái Rắn was
one of the strongholds. Bombs and mortars ploughed the village
over and over...
After the nation reunification, the Sisters of Divine Provi-
dence had camped here. Difficulties and lacks of amenities had
then accumulated to the point that they were ready to move
their soft heels out. But “too much to leave, yet too much to
34. MY CAI RAN 183
stay.” The Lord presides here like he had presided in the grotto
of Bethlehem... Suddenly, I felt so much love for this “Stall of
Worship.” My true love for Cái Rắn began right here, from this
moment on...
Today I finished the building of a 20 cubic meter (706 ft3) wa-

ter tank. Gotta have water to drink, to take a bath, and to wash
clothes with. The completion was late, but I still had hope for the
belated downpours at the end of the season, or more precisely,
out of season. Mentally, I wandered back to the past...
The rainwater that came down from the leafed roof was as
brown as spoiled tea. The nuns who went out to buy potable wa-
ter got her boat sank, yelling “Oh my... oh my”... Taking a bath
once, washing clothes once, only to feel pain inside...
I invited the village officials over to celebrate and to intro-
duce the water tank and myself to them all at the same time. The
villagers flocked over to see the tank, each voicing their own
opinion “It’s huge!... Wow, our ‘ông Cố’ is so rich!... Ông Cố
uses rainwater, while we drink pond water!”...
The last remark turned me off. It reminded me of a cartoon in
“L’Anglais Sans Peine” 3 The cartoon showed a couple gulping
down two black mugs with two kids at their feet, faces drooped,
eyes fixing at the two white glasses, with a note–“Parents drink
beer, kids drink water.” All of a sudden, my water tank looked
so odd and out of place....
It was true that most of my parishioners were using pond
water. They drank from the pond, washed at the pond, and took
baths at the pond. Right at that pond’s pier-platform, I’ve seen a
woman consequently washing cloths, rinsing rice, and then bail-
ing some water out to washing her kid’s bottom.
I thought of the drilled wells in the villages. Each would
serve about twenty families. The financial breakdowns were all
ready in my head. Drilling down to 110 meters would cost $1,8M

(~US $180,) each additional meter costs an extra $15K ($1.50) Usu-
ally in this area, fairly good water can be reached at 100-110m
depth. Having a concrete pad poured around it would cost an-
other $300K ($30). In total, each would cost $2,2M ($220)
I made a commitment to myself that I would save up for
drilling one well a year for the people.
Ông Cố uses rainwater, while we drink pond water... That
sour comment would gnaw at my conscience until the day Cái
Rắn got ten wells.
Today I visited people of Cái Rắn ‘A’. I dropped by to see them

all, regardless of their religions. There were a few things I had
observed–
1. EVERY FAMILY, Catholic and non-Catholic, had several
Certificate of Recognitions.
2. CATHOLIC AND NON-CATHOLIC treated each other like
brothers, full of love and in harmony. The non-Catholics had a
good impression of priests. They said “Now you’re here, we’ll
have better luck this year!... Family that has a father is like a
house that has a roof!... The village seems to be warmer with
a priest!... Today we are visited by a priest, an unprecedented
event since the beginning of the world!”...
3. THE VILLAGERS WERE POOR. Seventy percent of houses
were simply huts with columns buried directly into the ground
and palm-leafed walls; Twenty percent had columns with foot-
ings, and five percent were made out of bricks. Non-Catholics
fared better than Catholics.

An old man dropped by to see me. He yelled from the front yard
34. MY CAI RAN 185
“Hey priest, are you home? People talked so much about you on
the taxiboat... so I have to drop by to see for myself!”... I asked
him to have a seat, and change the subject. “Can you tell me why
people call this place Cái Rắn?”
“Long ago, this canal had lots of snakes... and so it’s
named!”
“I heard that the canal of Cái Rắn was also named after a pair
of legendary snakes at Bà Chúa Xứ shrine, was that true?”
“Before the war, there were actually a pair of snakes there.
but the war and its bombs had drove them away somewhere...
The name Cái Rắn had existed long before the snakes”...
Our conversation was getting warm when a bare-chested
man came in, followed by a strong menthol smell of alcohol–
“Why don’t you priest buy the tractor for the people instead!
Don’t drill wells, don’t build bridges. With a full stomach, drink-
ing pond water or going about by a sampan would be fine. Ones
can’t get across bridges being so poor and hungry anyway!”
“Where’s the money for a tractor? If there were, who would
manage it?” I asked.
“Just buy a tractor. There must be a tractor to relieve people
from poverty!” He insisted.
Words of a drunkard, but still worth considering. I was told
that cost for a high performance tractor would be over $100 mil-
lions (~US $1,000) which totally out of my reach. Moreover, if
there were one, would the local Parish Committee be able to
manage it? Stuck!

Today I have compiled my spiritual report. So my parish has
140 families, 501 Christians, and 76 non-Christians who were
members of the Christian families. These 76 were not baptized!
For the year of 1994, there were only 2 children in the baptism
registration, thus, most of the newborns were not baptized, and
most of the new couples were married out of wedlock. These

would be my tasks for the coming year of 1995.
My Cái Rắn was so poor. Poor in materials, and also poor in

faith!
8
1
“The Vicar Forane known also as the Dean or the Archpriest or by some other
title is the priests who is placed in charge of a vicariate forane” (canon 553
of the Code of Canon Law,) namely of a group of parishes within a diocese.
Unlike a regional Episcopal Vicar, a Vicar Forane (or Cha Quản Hạt in Viet-
nam) acts as a help for the Parish Priests and other priests in the vicariate fo-
rane, rather than as an intermediate authority between them and the Diocesan
Bishop.
2
One of the priests who joined the resistance war against both the French and
the American.
3
A self-study English book published by Assimil English, most popular in Viet-
nam in the ‘50s and ‘60s.
Cleaning a fish in preparation for a meal - 2008
8
35. DURIAN 187
35. DURIAN
Cà Mau, ...
HIS MORNING, I GOT A HOLD OF a copy of “Asia and Af-
rica Today.” So hungry for magazine like a kid was for
milk, I swallowed it all at once. There was an article that
made me wonder–
A Russian journalist had walked into a restaurant in Singa-
pore. Getting a glimpse of a Chinese eating a fruit from a thorny
shell, eating like he was in a trance, paying no attention to nei-
ther space nor time, sucking and licking it ‘til bare... The jour-
nalist got tempted beyond resist. He tapped on the shoulder of a
girl in uniform. “Gimme that thorny fruit thing!”
“Which one, sir?”
“The thorny one that the Chinese over there was eating”
“Oh... the durian! Right away, sir!” A durian was promptly
brought out, gingerly put on the table, and skillfully opened up
right in front of the Russian.
“Ew!... it smells like a rotten corpse!” (sic)... The Russian
rushed out with his nosed thumped. The girl in uniform took the
durian away, then came back to the Russian for the money. The
Russian paid for it with a royal pain....
“Stupid Westerners!” The girl cussed silently.
The dumfounded Russian and the disdain girl in uniform
had reminded me of the unforgettable memories that I had with
durian myself–
MEMORY ONE: In 1954, the Seminary of Xuân Bích had
moved South from Hanoi, and temporarily relocated at Thị
Nghè. The seminarians from Vĩnh Long Diocese were sent over.
There, Northerners and Southerners convened.
Vĩnh Long is the country of fruits. The parents brought fruits
to their sons during visiting day: Barbados cherries (dâu,) man-

goes (xoài,) star apples (vú sữa,) lanzones (bòn bon)... were sent
to the kitchen storage in huge bamboo containers. Everyone of
us had ate and ate, and never ran out of them; But for the du-
rian (sầu riêng,) there were just a few, hidden here and there.
The Southerners embraced them, lovingly inhaled its scent, and
locked them up in their lockers for their own enjoyment. At night
fall, after all doors were tightly shut... a Northerner asked from
inside his mosquito net “What does that horrible smell come
from?”
“Nah... it smells beautiful!”... a Southerner replied;
Next morning, the Southerner went looking for the durian;
“Which one of you took my durian?”
“It’s me! I threw it out to the yard. It smelled so bad that I
couldn’t sleep!”
“You stupid Northerner, thinking the good smelling Durian
bad!”...
“You dumb Southerner, considering the bad smelling Durian
good!”...
O Justice, does durian smell good or bad? O Durian, you
smell wonderful, or like a corpse? Should we unify to glorify
you, or should we unify to mortify you?
MEMORY TWO: When I was a seminarian at the St. Thomas
Seminary in Gia Định, the Head of Logistics Sister lovingly put
a plate of durian on the Lecturers’ dinner table. “You’re invited
to try a precious fruit of the South!”
Director Pastor Hiến Minh fanned his nose with his hand.
Lecturer Pastor Bùi Châu Thi waved his napkin like trying to get
rid of a ghost. Every priest scrunched their noses in detest...
The plate of durian was quickly passed to the students’ tables.
Everyone was holding his nose with one hand, quickly shoved
the plate down to the next table with the other. The whole mess
hall turned chaotic just because of one plate. After pushing and
shoving it all the way to the kitchen, the seminarians were still
35. DURIAN 189
mocking and chiding it without mercy... How cruel! O Durian,

were you saddened? Life was just like that!...
For me, I was sitting as stiff as a statue. The durian didn’t
smell bad to me at all! It seemed to smell good and looked kind
of fatty and creamy... I had wanted to try some, but I was so
afraid of being detested, so I just kept my mouth shut. Silence as
accessory, cowardice, and disloyalty? Gotta wait for an answer
later; an immediate one would certainly create a riot.
MEMORY THREE: In 1961, I was assigned by Bishop Nguyễn
Kim Điền to a teaching post at St. Quý Minor Seminary in Sóc
Trăng. The Seminary belong to Cần Thơ Diocese, but the semi-
narians came from many different regions, including Cái Mơn,
Cái Nhum, Bến Lức, Mặc Bắc...
Cái Mơn and Mặc Bắc were well known for their fruit or-
chards. Every time the parents came to visit their sons, the whole
Seminary was so festive. Gifts didn’t come in plates, but in huge
bamboo containers. Mangosteen, star apples, lanzones... The
seminarians’ eyes alit; They could hardly wait for mealtime...
However, there were just a few durian ceremoniously put on
plates, and on the Lecturers’ table only.
As a Lecturer, I had the right to eat it. It was the first time I
had a chance to enjoy the flavor of durian after seven years of
love. Getting to know it, and falling in love with it for seven
years... but never getting close to it. Every time I had a chance to
go to Bến Thành Market, I got just enough money for a glass of
icy sweet beans, so all I could have done was walking back and
forth in front of the durian fruit stall to get some fresh material
for my lovesickness. Durian was so classy, and out of reach of
a poor student like I was. It would cost twenty bucks per kilo of
durian, while a full simple meal cost only four bucks. Just had to
keep a bitter love in my heart. It took seven years for me to get
to the durian. It took a seat of a Lecturer at Sóc Trăng Seminary
to get to enjoying a durian. Space and time constrained me that
much! It’s terrible!
A fruit vendor holding a Star Apple (Vú Sữa)

A bunch of Lanzones (Bòn Bon) were at
the top of her fruit basket.
Durian (Sầu Riêng)
8
36. CULTURAL ASSIMILATION 191
36. CULTUR AL ASSIMILATION
Hiền Quan, October 1989

HIS MORNING, I HADACHANCETOTALKTO Mr. Lâm Thứ,
Vice Chief of Police at Vĩnh Phú. Mundane talks most-
ly, but all within the context of “cultural assimilation,
and “taking the same road as the nation”...
Mr. Lâm Thứ was not happy with the fact that the letter of
the Vietnamese Bishop Council in 1988 was not carried out lo-
cally. Looking back to the past, he wanted to complain about
the Catholic Church, a Church that he deemed too westernized–
western cathedrals, western bells, western Mass outfits, western
procedures...
“Mister, up here (in the North,) priests still refused to take
the same road as the nation, still dare not to burn stick incense in
the church, still not allow the laities to eat the offerings”...
“I’ve been at a few locales and saw lots of changes; for ex-
ample, at my birth village, we’ve already allowed incense burn-
ing!”
“It was just because you’re there... but there are still so much
western influence here”...
“Please understand our Church. So much have been interna-
tionalized so any country can use it, actually. For example, you
and I were westernized from head to toe already–We both keep
our hair short in a western way–During the era of Phan Chu
Trinh, the youth mobilized a movement to quit dressing hair in
buns, and keeping it short instead; You and I both wear “áo sơ-
mi” from the word “chemise” (shirt) in French; You and I both
wear “quần tây” (trousers,) which we Northerners called “quần
frăng” as in “France;” You and I both wear “xăng-đan,” from
the word “sandales” (sandals) in French. On the outside, we’re
westernized, from head to toe even, but you and me, we are still
100% Vietnamese! We priests wear western Mass outfits, buy
western bells, burn incense in thuribles like the Westerners... but
we are still Vietnamese Catholics... and in that sense, we have
never strayed afar from our nation and our people!”...
Mr. Lâm Thứ nodded his head in sympathy.
I just said so to get it over with, but actually, I still don’t
know how to assimilate culturally, since I still don’t know exact-
ly what the Vietnamese culture was. Lecturer Pastor Trần Thái
Hiệp has had to divulge. “Culture of a country was something
very intangible, very elusive, and very difficult to identify. It’s
always there, but how long and how wide, in what shape, has
been hardly known. It’s like an onion with several layers. Peel
one off, its nature wouldn’t change. Peel another, then another
off... it’s still an onion. Culture was like that! That’s why we got
panicked at times, thinking that we’ve lost it by wearing west-
ernized clothing, shoes, living in westernized dwellings, using
westernized toilets... But when we look more carefully, we still
identify ourselves as Vietnamese!” Thank you, Professor!... For
giving me this knowledge!
Saigon, May 94
I was strolling on a street. Seeing a cute little chapel right next
to the sidewalk, I dropped right in to see the Lord for a moment.
I knew this chapel for more than 30 years ago: Eastern architec-
ture, but simple, bright, neat, and peaceful. There was a small
change now–The podium got a carving of the word “WORD”
in Han character. The sanctuary still kept the traditional three
steps, but the interior design was mostly oriental. Lines, colors,
and shapes were so well done that I felt immediately relax. Was
it a cultural assimilation, a “coming back to ones’ roots”?
Cultural assimilation was highly evaluated by “The Mission
of Christ the Redeemer” and considered “an urgent matter.” Cul-
tural assimilation was highly promoted and displayed in church

music, paintings, rituals, architecture designs... I wa so glad for
it! I left the chapel and continued my promenade. The happiness
that I felt at the chapel gradually dissipated. Now I felt very ill
at ease...
It was so obvious that the chapel looked exactly like a Bud-
dhist temple’s main gate. Temples, large and small, and imperial
buildings in the past all have a main gate. The gate had three
doors. A large central door opened only for rituals, or for high-
ranking personnel, otherwise remained closed. Lay people had
to use the side gates, men on the left, and women on the right.
Behind the main gate was the courtyard; behind the courtyard
was the main hall, after the main hall was the refectory. The
main hall was the most important. The high ranking sat there;
important businesses conducted there; deities presided there...
The main gate was just a passageway. If there were someone
who remained at the gate, it must have been either a guard or a
beggar. If a chapel, a dwelling where the Lord spiritually pre-
sided, was designed to resemble a main gate, then it could have
been a place where such guards or beggars would have stayed,
or in this case... the Sacramental Jesus!
O chapel, do not let the Lord reside in a gate any longer!
How pitiful!...
Furthermore, the carving of the Chinese characters “WORD”
on the podium had also confused me. Was that the national cul-
tural? Oh yeah... that’s right! Our country had used Han charac-
ters in most of our history. Our poets had wrote poems in Han;
official documents were written in Han; Agreements for the
sales of land, water buffaloes... were all in Han, even though
we had “Chữ Nôm” 1 for a long time, but “Nôm na là cha mách
qué.” Han was the language of the intellectuals!
Seeing the Han character carved into the podium, I didn’t
feel it was a place for preaching the Word of God, but the pain
of 1,000 years enslaving by the Chinese invaders instead.
Nha Trang, Nov. 1974

Today was the convention of cultural assimilation exchange day.
Everyone wanted to have a Mass that was more Vietnamese tra-
ditional. Bishop Nguyễn Văn Thuận 2 had a sad comment about
the new rituals being experimenting as described in “Phụng Vụ”
Magazine; He said “The priest in loose ‘traditional’ robe, wear-
ing crested pair headgear, kneeling in front of the altar was...
somewhat acceptable; but the Dean in a black ‘gown’ with a red
belt... looked so ridiculously comical! That was the uniform of
guards. In the past, guards were looked down upon as brown-
nosers... We need a lot more research, and take advises from the
experts. Going back to the national culture without studying in
depth was”... He left the sentence there at the word “was...” I
immediately filled in the blank “...cultural ambiguity!”
8
1
“Chữ Nôm,” literally “the vulgar system of writing,” was the first stage of
Vietnam’s linguistic or rather scriptural “liberation” from China began in
the mid-13th century with the development of a new system of writing which,
although still based on the Chinese characters, was specifically Vietnamese.
Under this system, each Vietnamese word was transcribed by the combination
of two Chinese ideograms, one used for phonetizing, the other for the mean-
ing. The knowledge of Chinese was still needed to understand “ Chữ Nôm.“
Moreover, there were no fixed and strict rules in the combination of Chinese
characters which often led to several different possible interpretations of a
same word. In spite of all shortcomings, for 6 centuries, “ Chữ Nôm “ was
used as a literary language alongside “ Chữ Nho.” Hàn Thuyên, a Vietnam-
ese mandarin and poet of the 13th century was a pioneer in its literary use.
“Quốc Ngữ,” literally “National Script,” using the Roman alphabet, was a
true linguistic revolution that took place in the 17th century with the “Roman-
ization” of the language. Alexandre de Rhodes from Avignon, a French Jesuit
Missionary, is generally associated with the invention of Quốc Ngữ. It is now
the official language of Vietnam.
“Nôm na là cha mách qué” is the mocking version of “the vulgar system of
writing”
2
Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan was born on April 17, 1928 in Phu Cam
parish, a suburb of Hue. His father, Mr. Nguyễn Văn Ấm, passed away on July
1, 1993 in Sydney, Australia. His Mother, Mrs. Elizabeth Ngô Đình Thị Hiệp,
daughter of the late Mr. Ngô Đình Khả, currently over one hundred years
old, is resides in Sydney, Australia with her daughter, Anne Ham Tieu, one of
Thuan’s younger sisters.
Thuan entered the An Ninh Minor Seminary in his early teens, and followed
his studies in philosophy and theology at Phu Xuan Major Seminary. He was
ordained priest on June 11, 1953 by Bishop Urrutia, and assigned to St. Fran-
cis parish to help with the transition from a French majority in that parish
to a Vietnamese one. The Bishop later appointed him chaplain of the Pel-
lerin Institute where he himself had been educated, the Central Hospital, and
the provincial prisons. Later, he was sent to study in Rome for three years
(1956-1959) at the Urbanian University, and awarded the Doctor in Canon
Law Summa Cum Laude for his thesis on “Organization of military chaplains
around the world.” Upon his return to Vietnam, he was assigned to teach at
An Ninh Seminary of Hue, and then become its rector. He went on to serve as
vicar general in the Archdiocese of Hue from 1964-1967.
On April 13, 1967, Pope Paul VI appointed him Bishop of Nha Trang, the first
Vietnamese Bishop of Nha Trang, replacing Bishop Raymond Paul Piquet,
M.E.P. (Bishop of Nha Trang from 1957-1967.) He was consecrated Bishop
on June 24, 1967, the solemnity of St John the Baptist, at Hue by H.E. Angelo
Palmas, Apostolic Delegate for Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. He chose as
his motto the title of the new constitution, Gaudium et Spes (Joy and Hope),
because he desired to be an apostle of joy and hope.
During his eight years in Nha Trang, he spared no effort in the development
of the diocese before the advent of difficult times. He focused on training the
grassroots cadres, increasing the number of major seminarians from 42 to
147, and minor seminarians from 200 to 500 in four seminaries, organized
In-service Courses for priests of 6 dioceses in Central Vietnam. He also or-
ganized other formation courses, such as: development and training of Youth
associations, the laity, parish associations and parish councils with training
courses for the Justice and Peace Movement, Cursillos and Focolare, and
founded the Community of Hope and the LaVang Community.
Thuan held various positions in the Vietnamese Episcopal Conference: He

was Chairman of the Justice and Peace Committee, Social Communication
Committee and the Development of Vietnam Committee in charge of Corev to
assist in resettlement of refugees from the war areas. He was one of the found-
ing members of the Catholic Radio Station ‘Radio Veritas’ Asia, Manila. He
frequently attended the Asian Bishops Conference of Asia (F.A.B.C.). He was
named Advisor of the Pontifical Council of the Laity from 1971-1975. It was
during these meetings that he had the opportunity to meet Pope John Paul II,
then Archbishop of Cracow, and to learn from him of pastoral experiences
during the most difficult period in Poland under the communist regime. He
was also appointed Advisor, then member of the Congregation for the Evange-
lization of the Peoples, and member of the Congregation for Divine Worship
and the Discipline of Sacraments. The Congregation for the Evangelization of
the Peoples also entrusted him with the responsibility of visiting and oversee-
ing the Seminaries in a number of countries in Africa.
On April 23, 1975 Pope Paul VI named him Coadjutor Archbishop with rights
of succession to the Archbishop of Saigon, and at the same time named him
titular Archbishop of Vadesi. However, on April 30, 1975, Saigon fell to the
North Vietnamese Army. The Communist regime disapproved this nomina-
tion.
On August 15, 1975, he was detained and escorted to Nha Trang where he
was held in house arrest at Cay Vong. Without being tried or sentenced, he
was taken to North Vietnam where he was imprisoned for more than thirteen
years, nine of which were spent in solitary confinement at Vinh Quang (Vinh
Phu) prison, then in the prison run by the Hanoi Police. Later, he was again
held under house arrest at Giang Xa.
During his years of imprisonment Thuan wrote ‘The Road of Hope’, the Spiri-
tual Testimony (Will) to all the Catholic Vietnamese in Vietnam and abroad,
and smuggled them out on scraps of paper. Another book, Prayers of Hope,
contains his prayers written in prison. The bishop fashioned a tiny Bible out
of scraps of paper. Sympathetic guards smuggled in a piece of wood and some
wire from which he crafted a small crucifix.
On November 21, 1988, he was released from detention and was ordered to
live at the Archbishop’s House in Hanoi without permission to perform any
pastoral work. In March 1989 he was allowed to visit his aged parents in
Sydney, Australia, and travel to Rome to meet the Pope and return to Hanoi.
In 1991 he was forced to exile to Rome (travel to, but not allowed to come
back.) Ever since that time he lived in exile, though his heart was always with
the Church in Vietnam and his homeland. In spite of the persecutions imposed
on the Church and on himself personally, he always lived and preached for-
giveness and reconciliation.
On November 11, 1994 the Holy Father named him Vice President of the Pon-
tifical Council of Justice and Peace, and subsequently President on June 24,
1998 replacing Cardinal Y. R. Etchegaray, who had retired.
During Lent 2000, he received a special invitation from Pope John Paul II to
preach the Lenten Retreat to the Curia, at the beginning of the third millen-
nium. When the Holy Father received him in private audience after the retreat,
giving him a chalice, Cardinal Thuan said. “Twenty-four years ago I said
Mass with three drops of wine and one drop of water in the palm of my hand,
I never would have thought that today the Holy Father would give me a gilt
chalice. Our Lord is great indeed and so is his love”.
On February 21, 2001 he was elevated to the College of Cardinals by the

Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, who named him Cardinal of the Church of
Santa Maria della Scala. Within a week, Vietnam’s Foreign Ministry eased
restrictions and the Cardinal could enter his native country with only routine
immigration procedures and was afforded all the privileges normally given to
overseas citizens.
On September 16, 2002, Nguyễn Văn Thuận died of cancer in a clinic in Rome,
Italy, at the age of 74. Prior to his death, Nguyễn Văn Thuận had appeared on
lists of possible successors to Pope John Paul II. On September 16, 2007, the
fifth anniversary of the cardinal’s death, the Roman Catholic Church began
the beatification process for Nguyễn Văn Thuận. Pope Benedict XVI expressed
“profound joy” at news of the official opening of the beatification cause.
In his 2007 encyclical Spe Salvi, Benedict referred to Thuận’s Prayers of

Hope, saying, “During thirteen years in jail, in a situation of seemingly utter
hopelessness, the fact that he could listen and speak to God became for him an
increasing power of hope, which enabled him, after his release, to become for
people all over the world a witness to hope—to that great hope which does not
wane even in the nights of solitude.”
There are 117 martyrs, one Blessed Martyr André Phú Yên in Vietnam, but
there is no non-martyr canonized saint. The cause for the Beatification of
Cardinal Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan was opened on September 16,
2007, five years after his death–the shortest time a cause can be open after
the candidate’s death. If he is beatified, and subsequently canonized, he would
not only be the first canonized non-martyr saint of Vietnam, but also through-
out Southeast Asia, and only the second in the entire continent of Asia, after
St. Alphonsa Muttathupadathu, a Sister from India whom Pope Benedict XVI
proclaimed a saint on October 12, 2008.
8
Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan and Pope John Paul II, 2001
Archbishop Ngo Dinh Thuc at Phu Cam Cathedral, 1961
8
37. THE VOIDS UNFILLED 199
37. THE VOIDS UNFILLED
42 Tú Xương 1, October 28, 1989

DROPPED BY 36 TÚ XƯƠNG this morning to see Sister
Camille, a Sister who has been fighting with a devil-
ish cancer for the last two years without winning.
The look on her face and her breath were in autumn, but the look
in her eyes and her smiles were still in spring; With those, she’s
already a winner. That look in the eyes and smiles on her face
were those of Jesus that she found. At 6:15, I bid her good-bye.
She responded with a victorious smile...
Right after the gate closed, I felt lonely. Tú Xương Street
was almost empty at that time of the day. The streetlights started
to turn on, giving off a faint light. I carefully kept right on the
sidewalks. Screech... a bicycle suddenly stopped right next to
me... An aging young women in short-leggings and open-arm
shirt, smiling invitingly, with lingering perfume...
“Wanna play, uncle?”
“Play what?”
“?!”
Five seconds went by before I realized whom she really was
and where she was inviting me to. It was like (the popular com-
edy) “Uncle Tư Ếch in Saigon”! I laughed inside, and hastened
up my pace. The bicycle closely followed, inviting, begging...
Reaching villa number 42, I slipped right in. It sounded like
somebody on my back saying “Dumb ass!”...
With my heartbeat came back to its normal rhythm, I wrote
an open letter:
Dear Sister Magdalena,
I just ran into your little sister a while ago on Tú Xương Boulevard. My
goodness! Your sister had invited me. I just ran away. I remembered... long
time ago, you were wandering around like that... until the day you ran into
Jesus. From thereon, you stopped wandering, and stopped inviting. You had
sat at His feet, and cried, so much so, out of sorrow, of self-pity, of apprecia-
tion, and of love. Oh sister, what has the Lord said onto you to stop you from
wandering, and inviting?
That was then between you and the Lord, and it is now between your little
sister and me. Oh sister, what do I have to say to stop her from wandering
and inviting? I regretted that I haven’t said a word to her like the Lord had to
you... I didn’t dare to say a word today, and I’ll be daring not to say a word
tomorrow... Alas... there was still a vast land that I didn’t dare to come any
closer to sow the seeds of Good News...
Sincerely yours,
P. H.
42 Tú Xương, Oct. 29, 89

This morning, I took a leisure walk on Bà Huyện Thanh Quan
Street, dropping by Hồng Sơn Photography to visit a relative.
The door was open. I stepped in. The house was as empty as the
Bà Đanh Pagoda. 1 Waiting for two minutes, still not a soul, I
walked out. I stopped by a coffee shop just to kill time; Sitting
there, sipping, and getting bore... having no one to talk to.
An old Frenchman walked by, alone, hands leisurely crossed
behind, pacing slowly, paying attention to no one; but there was
a rosaries dangling in his back.
Yesterday I’ve met a street women on Tú Xương, inviting.
Today I saw a Frenchman praying rosaries on Bà Huyện Thanh
Quan, a quiet Frenchman. I pitifully asked myself. “How many
there were sowing wheat, and how many sowing weeds?”
Cà Mau, Nov. 30, ‘95

This morning, I bid good-bye to 42 Tú Xương with a bowl of
phở with raw beef, sharing a table with a Frenchman. An un-
37. THE VOIDS UNFILLED 201
willing meeting. Sporadic conversing liked rice that was left out
for too long... My French was deeply buried in the past. I had to
dig so deep to find a few words to let him know that the Good
News has been blooming in several localities. That’s the obser-
vation of “The Mission of Christ the Redeemer.” That’s also a
reality in Cần Thơ Diocese.
I boasted that I was preparing for the baptism of over 300 pre-
Catholics on next year Easter. I thought that he would receive
the news with zest, but he took it with a cold face instead. He
shrugged and pouted. “Le Baptême n’est q’un sacrament!”...
Based on his tone and body language, I translated as “Bap-
tism is ‘only’ a sacrament, no big deal!”
“So what else the missionaries have to do?”
“Doing charity is enough; there’s no need to baptize. Vatican
II had declared–There is salvation outside the Church!”
I stayed mum, and mused–Doing charity was very good; but
if there were just that without preaching Christianity, then evan-
gelization had no reason to exist. Meaningless!
Peter the Evangelist had confirmed that there was no salva-
tion in this world without Jesus. John had emphasized that even
stronger–If it were not for Jesus, there wouldn’t be creation...
Jesus was the cause and means of everything–the Alpha and
the Omega.
Chợ Rẫy, March 1, 1996

I got a stroke exactly a month ago. I was checked in (Chợ Rẫy
Hospital) for four days. This morning, the doctor and his stu-
dents surrounded me. The lesson began “Walk to the door...
Now back... Stretch your arms. Close your eyes. Touch the tip
of your nose with the tip of your index finger... with left hand,
now right hand. Faster... Bend your head down. Now tilt it back.
Tilt it left, right. Feeling dizzy? Fine! I’ll let you go at the end of
the week. Remember to take it easy every time you stand up or
sit down. Got to rest, okay!”

What does resting mean, and for how long? Most of my
friends answered, About three months...
My goodness! Three month of lying down like a “couch po-
tato,” eating heartily and sleeping as sound as a log...
Three months! The harvest was plentiful but the workers
were lying around like potatoes, the birds and the rats would
have had a feast then!
8
1
Formerly Regina Pacis (1954 – 1977) now main office of Filles de la Charité
of St. Vincent DePaul.
2
Historically Châu Lâm Temple (1460-1497) in Thụy Chương, Hanoi, meta-
phorically a place rarely visited.
Main office of Filles de la Charité Historically Châu Lâm Temple

of St. Vincent DePaul, 2009 in Thụy Chương, Hanoi, 2009
8
38. RICH & RAGS: THE VICIOUS CYCLE 203
38. RICH & R AGS: THE VICIOUS CYCLE
Sơn Tây, 1989

CAME BACK TO SƠN TÂY PARISH HOUSE today after
35 years of separation. The parish house was empty.
The Director Pastor was teaching at Hanoi Seminary,
and not back yet. The Dean, having to take care of everything,
running ‘round like a chicken without its head. I was a guest of
a villa as empty as the Bà Đanh Pagoda. Lost!
There was someone popping in and out at the door. A girl in
her twenty’s, white shirt, black pants, shy and hesitant...
“Come on in!”
“Hello Father!” She humbly put a plate on the table, with a
bag of white Cuban sugar... “the Dean Pastor told me that you
have just arrived from the South to visit the Diocese. Here is
such a humble gift for you, Father!”
“Wow, I never had a chance to have sugar this white before
in the South!”
“No, you didn’t have to say that! Father... It’s so wonderful
in the South, having it all, both spiritually and materially. Good
foods, beautiful clothes, full churches”...
“Being so fully provided in the South may lead to hell in the
afterlife. You’re poor, you’ll go to heaven in your own bed an
mat!”
“We’re so poor that our brothers fought constantly, loosing
both in this life and the next instead”...
“Don’t say that!”
I asked myself, Did she speak the truth, or just for the sake
of it?
Me? I was joking!
Hiền Quan, 1989

Brother Đông just gave me a tour of the parishes in the vicinity.
His parish has covered two districts. Everywhere, the welcom-
ing were the same–A tray of beer, a tray of soda, a few cans of
condensed milk, and a few kilos of tea. I paid back with back-
breaking sessions in the Confessional... However, there’s an in-
teresting gift that nobody knew but me–the explanatory story for
the statement made by that Sơn Tây girl–We’re so poor that our
brothers fought constantly! Here’s the story–
There was a man who died leaving his two children a small
piece of land, roughly 350 square meters (3,766 sq2) with a bam-
boo bush. The older daughter got the bamboo bush; the young-
er brother, being a son, got the land. Conflict of interests had
brought forth this unending exchanges–
“You gotta get rid of that bamboo bush so I can grow some-
thing. The land is as small as a frog’s hand while your bamboo
bush is like a mountain, sucking up all of its nourishment. There
ain’t not much that I can do with a piece of dirt like this!”
“Dad gave me the bamboo so I have something to live with;
selling a shoot here, a bamboo there, saving up for my retire-
ment. Now you want me to chop them down, you’d rather kill
me first!”
Neither law of man nor God could have solve that. Both sis-
ter and brother dared not to come for Confession or Eucharist.
They stopped seeing eye to eye, but continued to communicate
through their “Berlin Wall.”
That was what We’re so poor that our brothers fought con-
stantly! really means. I grievously thought of what Victor Hugo
wrote in “Les Miserables”–
“Poverty and illiteracy were a couple that begot so many
crimes”...
And the poor would usually be illiterate.
That’s vicious!
Cà Mau, 1995
I was talking to Mr. Ba Hiến when four nuns came in. They were
jubilant like Tết, talking like grackle starlings. They came to say
goodbye to the Dean before leaving for the farming cooperation
to serve in the oncoming Christmas. They were departing like
that. Mr. Ba, running into a nun who came from his province,
spiritedly reported. “Ban Mê Thuột coffee output this year has
been reduced drastically; but that’s not a problem; they’re still
rich!... Every household had bought a Dream 1 ... The young-
sters competed in karaoke; They sang to one-, two-o’clock in
the morning at times, and habitually, they would soon miss out
on the church. Only the elders showed up for the morning Mass
now. Economy up, religion down!”...
What a statement, I thought, then involuntarily, I said–
“Well fed and warmly clothed lead to carnally enhance. Too
hungry to keep faith, justifiably; but once well fed, it would be
too busy with carnal fun to keep it. Just an unending circle!”
An unending circle really. Mission of Christ the Redeemer
had grieved for the sufferings of three-quarter of the world pop-
ulation that was still in the vicious grip of poverty, and at the
same time, lamented the developed country’s immorality.
Cái Rắn, 1995

Today I sat in to listen to the smart small talks among some
middle-aged laities:
“That priest was so smart. He had gone to Saigon, found a
businessman and bring him back to put up an oil-pressing fac-
tory right in his parish, creating dozens of $500K a month salary
jobs (~US $50) with meals provided for his parishioners. It’s so
enviable!... The priest in K. K. took home a humongous tractor
to plough for his parishioners on credit, due and payable only
after harvest. That’s really high rolling!... Our priest had built
classrooms for the poor, charging no tuition plus giving the stu-
dents one set of new clothes a year!”...

The conversation went on and on, naming a dozen of priests
who were so handy and highly active.
I felt so embarrassed, since that long list of names didn’t in-
clude mine. I got nothing to compare with the other priests. I felt
unhappy with God, and I felt small with the parishioners. A dim-
witted Parish priest?... I wondered if there’s any who thought of
me like that?
I wanted to take guts to borrow for a tractor to solve my in-
feriority complex. But then who would take care of it mechani-
cally and financially? Would it be profitable or not? Profit was
uncertain, and if loss, how would that be compensated? Out of
reach. Stuck. Gave up. Inferiority complex was still there.
The night fall. Breeze from the river came to caress my face.
Up high, the sky was full of stars. I let my spirit go with the
breeze, joining the stars...
Inferiority complex somewhat relieved, I said my night
prayers. In the Confession part, Pope John Paul II’s advice in
the Mission of Christ the Redeemer suddenly popped up–
“It is not the Church’s mission to work directly on the eco-
nomic, technical or political levels, or to contribute materially to
development. Rather, her mission consists essentially in offer-
ing people an opportunity not to ‘have’ more but to ‘be’ more” 2
He also recited the statement of Conference of Latin American
Bishops at Puebla–
“The best service we can offer to our brother is evangeliza-
tion, which helps him to live and act as a son of God, sets him
free from injustices and assists his overall development.”
I mentally sent to my talented fellow priests my best wishes
for their hunger erasing and poverty reducing missions. I also
prayed for non-talented colleague priests like myself to feel at
ease on their Christ proclamation missions, since Jesus himself
made the poor happy, and made the riches shared generously to
the poor, and considered the poor their givers.
1
A motorcycle trademark of Honda Motor Co.
2
The Conference of Latin American Bishops at Puebla stated:
“The best service we can offer to our brother is evangelization, which helps
him to live and act as a son of God, sets him free from injustices and assists
his overall development. It is not the Church’s mission to work directly on
the economic, technical or political levels, or to contribute materially to de-
velopment. Rather, her mission consists essentially in offering people an op-
portunity not to ‘have more’ but to ‘be more’ by awakening their consciences
through the Gospel. Authentic human development must be rooted in an ever
deeper evangelization”
Duong Lam Village in Son Tay, Ha Tay Province,

50 km West from Hanoi - 2008
8

39. PRESENCE & PROCLAMATION 209
39. PRESENCE & PROCLAMATION
Cà Mau, ...
ODAY I JUST HUNGRILY FINISHED the Biography of
Nguyễn Hiến Lê. The name Nguyễn Hiến Lê as a writ-
er, a translator, and a publisher has etched into my mind
from the ‘50s and the ‘60s. He was not a formal scholar, but was
hailed as a great savant. He had read over two thousand books
on the eastern and western cultures in the ancient and recent
history. He had penned and translated over two hundred books,
mostly How-To books of self-improvement.
I respected him as a mentor. I digest his biography passion-
ately. But once finished, I felt a little bit uneasy. Uneasy because
he said he’d done with it, but the publisher said no; even more
so since a savant over eighty years of age like him had only four
memories about Catholic, and none of them was good:
FIRST: When he was a student at Yên Phụ, Hanoi, he and his
fellow students fought in groups against the kids in the Catholic
village that he referred to as “the rich boys.”
SECOND: When he moved to Saigon, he had sent his kids to a
school in Tân Định teaching by the nuns. He complained that the
nuns taught his kids western culture only, not our culture.
THIRD: He compiled and published a set of world history
books, in there, the dark history of the Church in the Middle
Ages with corrupted Popes was included. 1 For that, he received
a letter threatening him, and he revealed that the letter author
was a Catholic.
FOURTH: When he applied for the printing permit for a book
of Evolution with the Ministry of Information and Culture, he
ran into problems. A Ministry official came to see him, confid-
ing that an influential priest from Huế had wrote a letter to the
Minister, requesting that the book not to be published, but the

Ministry had ignored that, since there was no reason to forbid
the printing of such book.
I roughly thought–
KID FIGHTS were trivial. Catholic and non-Catholic kid fights
were trivial too, since that’s what kids do, no matter what.
THE ISSUE OF Catholic school in Vietnam teaching western
culture only needs to be reexamined more carefully.
Bringing western culture to our country was a cultural mis-
sion, enriching our own culture. Mainly for that, Mr. Nguyễn
Hiến Lê was promoted to a savant since he had gathered and
compiled East, West, ancient, and modern cultures. If it were
true that a Catholic private school in Vietnam had failed to build
and educate its students basing on our culture, it must have
missed a lot, just like a Vietnamese who was fluent in foreign
languages, but not Vietnamese, should not be too proud.
SOME POPES in the Middle Ages were corrupted; Those
were facts that even Catholic historians wouldn’t miss. Humbly
acknowledging that to repent and improve upon would be much
better than threatening and attempting to mute a historian.
THE EVOLUTION of “Men were from monkeys” was a
theory in science, fully disputable if found not agreeable. One
shouldn’t use any maneuver to shut it out, since that would be
human right violations–The freedom of expression and the free-
dom of speech.
The Church existence was for bearing witness to the Gos-
pel. However, Mr. Nguyễn Hiến Lê didn’t see that mission of
the Church. It seemed like he sympathized with Professor Yutan
regarding the Church existence. Mr. Lin Yutan was holding the
Bible, looking for “The Way,” only to get bogged down by a
missionary’s prayer. He recited this experience in “The Impor-
tance of Living,” 2 translated into Vietnamese by no other than
Nguyễn Hiến Lê.
I regretted that there were many believers who didn’t pro-
39. PRESENCE & PROCLAMATION 211
claim the Gospel by presence, but I also regret that Professor

Lin Yutang and Savant Nguyễn Hiến Lê had never discovered
the treasure hidden in the field.
Cà Mau, 1975
Today Mr. Chín Binh took three of his kids to me. “Would you
please baptize them, Father. So busy fighting during the war,
now I have a chance to come back to the faith.”
“How old is this big boy?”
“Eight”
“I’ll baptize the two younger ones for now. The older boy
has to take catechism first. I’ll find them a godmother.”
The two little girls, Loan and Phượng were happy like Tết
with the prospects of baptism and a loving godmother...
After the registration procedures at the church entrance, I
took the girls up to the sanctuary for the next ritual.
Reaching up to the area, Phượng suddenly howled like get-
ting stung by a bee, and nobody could calm her down. I asked
her godmother “What happened, Lụa?”
“She saw Lord Jesus nailed on the crucifix, and she was ter-
rified!”
I shook my head, deep in thoughts.
Little Phượng was shocked. This shock would turn into an
un-erasable impression. The first memory in life about Christi-
anity was that bad? Terrifying and horrifying?
My Lord! The image of your crucifixion was the most be-
loved image of my life, an ultimate impression of love, but to-
day, that has become little Phượng’s terror!
I thought of the pedagogy method of catechism, then asking
myself–
Should history of redemption be presented that way to the
children, and like that to the non-believers?
Cần Thơ, ...

I heard that the Superior Mother of Providence just came back
from France. I ran there to see her for a little, and to ask about the
Church in France for another little. Seeing that her was friendly
and kind, I inquired as much as I could in order to evaluate the
Church situation there fairly. I took a mental note of this state-
ment that she made reflexively “They like the statues of Resur-
rection more than Crucifixion over there!”
“Superior Mother... that might be fairer! The history of re-
demption was very long, and ended at the resurrection event,
not the crucifixion. Besides, the Lord was on the cross for only
three hours, thus we shouldn’t keep Him on it days after days.
“From Crucifixion to Resurrection,” not “Resurrection to Cru-
cifixion”...
I left the convent, walked along the riverbank, pondering
upon either display the statue of Resurrection on the background
of the altar for 364 days, except Good Friday? or, display the
statue of Crucifixion on the background of the altar for 365
days, including Easter?
8
1 The Catholic Church was the only one in Europe during the Middle Ages with
its own laws and large coffers. Church leaders sat on the king’s council and
played leading roles in government. Bishops, who were often wealthy and
came from noble families, ruled over groups of parishes called “diocese.”
Parish priests, on the other hand, came from humbler backgrounds and often
had little education. The village priest tended to the sick and indigent and, if
he was able, taught Latin and the Bible to the youth of the village.
2 The Importance of Living – by Lin Yutang (1895–1976) translated into Viet-

namese as “Sống Đẹp” by Nguyễn Hiến Lê in 1964.
40. ON THE ROAD 213
40. ON THE ROAD
Saigon, 1971
ODAY WAS THE EVANGELIZATION CONVENTION opening
day at St. Paul Convent’s chapel. I was the host speaker. It
was the first time in my life I spoke in front of an audience
with that many big-timers. I was pretty nervous, having to in-
hale deeply several times for the nervousness to subside.
“I firmly believed that the evangelists have to begin their
missions by being on the road; Being on the road to know what
to do, how to do, and do it to what extent. Our Lord Jesus had
traveled on foot, and traveled nonstop. Saint Paul had done the
same”... I used an excerpt from Ben Gurion, 1
“The Israeli soldiers had to learn and loved their country
with their feet!... The evangelists could use the public commu-
nication means, but have to use their own feet, best to be there
physically to communicate one-on-one with the non-Christians.
Face-to-face, word-to-word; that’s how love was born. Evange-
lizing without love won’t be evangelizing. Have to be on ones’
way, and be there physically to get it”...
My speech’s was brief and precise, so it got more applause
than usual. Just a few steps from the podium, I ran into my Di-
rector Pastor Hiến Minh. He squeezed my hand tightly, and
praised me with two words.
“Well done!”
His enthusiasm and praise had motivated me greatly, and
reenforced my belief...
“The evangelists have to begin their missions by being on
the road; Be on the road to know what to do, how to do, and to
do it to what extent.”
Ngô Xá, 1989

Today I visited Ngô Xá, a parish in Phú Thọ Province. I’ve
known Ngô Xá quite a bit, since during the anti-French revolu-
tion, our school was evacuated to this area.
Ngô Xá was a parish with 6,000 believers, yet, for ten years,
they haven’t had one single Mass. Ngô Xá was merged into Du
Bơ, an adjacent parish with an old and sick priest. He was so lost
that he couldn’t even differentiate rooms in the house.
Lunch was served at a friend’s relatives home. The meta-
phor “Tall heaping tray, full feasting day” was literally trans-
lated. Treating to the max to please, since it was a “once in a
blue moon” event.
Hearing that there were two priests from the South visiting,
the locals had poured in. The three-section house was packed.
People pushed us from behind, rendering the simple act of bring-
ing the rice bowl to the mouth a daunted one. Suddenly, a man
shouted. “Stand up please, Fathers, so we can see ya faces!” Both
of us stood up on our chairs, turning a round. There was another
shout from the courtyard, “Can ya’ two Fathers come out here so
we can see ya too, please!” We both dutifully stepped outside. A
woman voice heard from behind, “We’re droolin’ seein’ ya!”...
“Would you take us if the Bishop assigns?”
“We’ll take y’all!”
“Would you take an old, blind one if the Bishop assigns?”
“Blind’s fine too, as long as we got Mass!”
I pretended to be humorous to hold back tears. At that mo-
ment, I really shared with the Lord when he lamented in Beth-
saida. “I had compassion on them, because they were harassed
and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.”
I was pretty well informed of the lack of shepherds here in
this area, but the info just touched me at the brain, not at the
heart. Being here today, witnessing that with my own eyes, I
have come to realize that–letting them be harassed and helpless
40. ON THE ROAD 215
was a sin, a sin of all shepherds. I myself was neglecting them.

I was just enlightened today, after a trip. Traveling or not travel-
ing made that much of a difference!
My missionary life was like that. TRAVELING was a word
that I revered. I wanted it to be written in capitals, underlined,
framed, and decorated with flowers. Evangelization without trav-
eling would be non-evangelizing. During four years of evangeli-
zation in Năm Căn, I have traveled, and traveled exhaustively...
to the point that, during the last two years, I had never stayed in
any place for longer than two nights. I’ve been traveling to that
extent ‘til now, with no regret.
8
1
David Ben-Gurion (1886 -1973,) first Prime Minister of Israel.
Author Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau (center) on his way in Nam Can, 2004
Three or more hour walking distances were routine to him.
8
41. CAI RAN, JOY & GRIEF 217
41. CAI R AN, JOY & GRIEF
Cái Rắn, July 21, 1996

NE THIRTY P.M. I was going to wash my face. There were
two heads, wrapped in black-and-white check-patterned
head cloth, popping in and out at the window. I flung
the doors and my arms wide open in welcoming them. “Hello!
Where are you two going this early?”
“We come for the Mass early just to see you, Pastor. You’re
doing well and good?”
“I’m doing pretty well, but not good enough yet!”
“You’re so funny!”...
They have both registered as catechumen, but only shown
up once a while. Today they came for the Lord’s Mass, and for
their Pastor; That must be good; I felt happy inside... “There
were lots of rain lately, so you must have plenty of water for
your fields, right?”
“Yeah... it is plenty now, but we don’t have enough water for
our daily use”
“Why?”
“We have only one vase that run dry as soon as the rain
stopped. Can you give us one vase each, Pastor?”
“I’m as poor as you are, how do I get the money for that?”
“You have drilled wells for them, yet you can’t give each
one of us a vase?”
“The donors gave me the money for the wells; when it’s
done, the money’s gone. There were no donors for vases yet!”
They looked at each other, mumbling, than stood up:
“Let’s go!” – “Alright, unless we stay ‘til we get it”
They then left, forgetting all about Mass.
With sadness still in the air, I opened the book of prayer to
read the afternoon prayer. My eyes fixed on the prayer, but my

mind wouldn’t. I saw that my Holy Teacher was also sad. Seeing
that the people were hungry, He multiplied bread for them to get
full before going home. Once they got full, they didn’t want to
leave, but stayed to organize an inauguration to crown him in-
stead. He had to run away onto a mountain to communicate with
God the Father. He was still unhappy the next day. Some people
chartered a boat sailing from Bethsaida to Capernaum to look
for him. Perhaps they wanted to beg him to be their king. Seeing
him, they cheerfully greeted. “When did you get here, Rabbi?”
To that, he sadly said. “I know you are looking for me not
because you saw signs, but because you ate and satisfied”...
Couldn’t stand seeing people hungry, but once fed them,
they turned redemption history into a political planning. What
can be done?
Cái Cấm, July 31, 1996

I arrived here yesterday to meet with Pastor Mười and the Sis-
ters. They’re all forty-something, brave, full experienced, and
tough. Pastor Mười sat there as the beginning and the end of a
circle of fourteen nuns. These fourteen were the fourteen theol-
ogy students who braved their three-month summer vacation in
the Cà Mau delta. They came here to enrich their linguistics.
Now they knew what “trái mắm” and “chang đước” 1 were. Now
they understood what “nước đạp,” (water ‘kicks’) “bảnh hết
biết!” (numbingly good!) “đẹp dữ trời!” (heavenly beautiful!)
And only now, they knew the full meaning of “helpless sheep
without a shepherd.”
I listened to the conversation between Father Mười and Sis-
ter My attentively. “I heard that the N’s were so committed to
catechism; they have devoted to it to legalize their marriage so
they can take pictures to send up North to their parents’ bless-
ings, so.. Why they were missing in the wedding ceremonial
41. CAI RAN, JOY & GRIEF 219
Mass? Were they ashamed of her big pregnant belly? Big so

what, just take picture of the upper half then!” – “I’ve told them
that too, but it was not that! The main culprit was his wife’s
superstition. Spending all of those times for catechism only to
listen to a smart-mouth girl friend who said ‘Marriage blessing
during pregnancy would bring forth an un-charming kid.’ From
thereon, she refused go no matter what her husband said”...
All efforts were nullified! So happy and so sad... A pot of
excellently delicious crab rice noodle soup could turn the whole
family off with just an incidental drop of diesel.
Cái Rắn, Aug. 4, 1996

A woman came in from the courtyard, talking loudly. “They’ve
found the body of Tám Trọng’s wife!” – “When?” – “At 5:30
this morning; The body was half-floated near Rạch Ráng. She
had registered, but wasn’t baptized yet!” – “I’ll conduct the
burial rites at her home this evening then; but we have to ask for
her family’s opinion first! If they don’t want it, then we won’t.”
5:05 p.m., my motorboat arrived at Tám Trọng’s. I quickly
lit a stick of incense for her, then putting on my vestments. There
was a lament that broke my heart. Oh God, how can one bear
this much pain!... That’s so true, this pain was unbearable.
Lê Thị Hà, forty-four years old, had went to Rạch Ráng mar-
ket to buy some charcoal for her daughter who just gave birth
to her grandson. The “be chín” sampan was too small and too
full when hitting two big waves in the middle of the immense
Ông Đốc River. The boat capsized. The boat driver boy who
was busy taking his own mother ashore, dropped down in ex-
haustion. Mrs. Tám, only a passenger, bobbing hopelessly in the
immense river mouth. “Oh Lord, Oh Mother Mary, help me!”
–“Save her!” A man yelled... “No! our boat is too full aready!”
The rice cargo boat had went by with closed eyes, leaving a
new succession of waves that silenced the begging for help from
an exhausted woman. Mrs. Tám sank down, her life ended. The
river was mindless, and the people heartless.
Lê Thị Hà left behind a husband, six children, and a two-day
old grandchild. Hà and a daughter of twelve just registered for
catechism, hoping that God would bless her with the rest of her
family converting. Hà didn’t have enough time to be baptized
before the death came. Pain of this magnitude could result in her
husband’s and children’s lost of faith in Christianity.
Oh God, how can one bear this much pain! That heart-
breaking lament was not an indication of hope, even a slimmest
one...
8
1
The fruit of Avicennia marina, or Gray Mangrove, one of several mangrove
tree species in Vietnam. “Chang Đước” is the aerial roots of Rhizophora
apiculata Blume, a higher valued specimen among those.
Navigating a “be chín” sampan - 2008
8
42. SEARCHING FOR THE LOST ONES 221
42. SEARCHING FOR THE LOST ONES
Cái Rắn, ...

RS. BẢY HOÀI, the “Heroic Vietnamese Mother” nomi-
nated asked me to come to the Rạch Lùm to perform
the last rite of Anointing to her oldest brother who left
the Church for over forty years. It took the motorboat two and a
half hours to get there.
Hearing the name of Rạch Lùm (literally The Bushy Canal,)
I imagined a dusky area; but who knew that Rạch Lùm was the
birthplace of Bác Ba Phi, 1 a celebrity from Minh Hải Province.
Archbishop Mẫn’s grandfather had also lived and died here.
Rạch Lùm once had a church and was once ran as a parish...
Mr. Hai was over eighty. His feet and face swollen up, but
his mind was still perfectly clear. He took the Confession and
Communion loyally. After all sacraments, I offered him a ciga-
rette, and led him into some more uplifting stories–from uplift-
ing to downright funny–
“Are you afraid of death, Mr. Hai?”
“Nope... When God calls, I’ll say ‘Yessir!’ No sweat!”
“Were you a bad boy Mr. Hai?”
Mrs. Bảy Hoài chimed in “When he was young, you wouldn’t
believe it, Father. Because of him, my Dad got 16 whips from
Ông Cố Quimbrot!”...
“Why?”
“Because he was Ông Cố’s boat rower who ran away with
Ông Cố’s cook without his blessings!”
“So did Ông Cố Quimbrot got 32 whips from the Bishop?”
“Only if he messed up, which he did not!”
“Rowing for Ông Cố must be like Ông Cố’s son, cooking
for Ông Cố must be like Ông Cố’s daughter. Thus, Ông Cố got
two spoiled children, so he must have earned a double punish-

ment. Two times sixteen is thirty-two!”
“Ah... I dunno”...
The family meal was festive. Most of the younger generation
convened; and guests from Cái Rắn even more numerous. To
share the expenses with the family, I slipped two $50,000 bills
(~US $5 each) into Mr. Hai’s pocket. “This is just a little token for
your recovery. If you come back to God before I do, remember
to pray for me, for your children and grandchildren, and for the
neighbors. I entrust Rạch Lùm to you. Remember to nag God so
Rạch Lùm may have another church, okay?”
“Yessir!”

Two thirty p.m. A stranger came in. “Can you give my mother
her last Anointment and Eucharist, Father?”
“Where are you from?”
“I am from Quản Phú”
“The Quản Phú near Vàm Đình, right? Wow... it’s pretty far;
I may have to stay overnight there”...
I arrived in Quản Phú at six o’clock. Mrs. Út, ninety year
old, laid there silently. She could no longer speak, but her hear-
ing and mind were still there. When I asked her to repent, she
nodded. After her Confession, I said Mass, and gave her Eucha-
rist blessing. She would leave this world smoothly like a lamp
running out of oil...
Mrs. Út came here from Trà Vinh over sixty years ago. Her
offspring were numerous, but there were only her fifth son and
one grandson baptized. The root was Christian, but the branches
were not. Her fourth daughter who’s now over sixty, and still
didn’t have her First Communion yet.
The dinner was brightly lit with a mantle lamp. The main
dish was boiled chicken salad tossed in thinly sliced young ba-
nana trunk. The alcohol was robust with a big nose of sweet-
rice. Drink for a good time, and also for a bad one. Sitting with
me were three of her children and a few neighbors.
Mr. Năm (Mrs. Út’s son) confided. “The last words of my
father were “We live here like the “đước” 2 amidst a forest of
“mắm.” 2 “Đước” had no choice but to live with “mắm.” Here,
where we got no Christian to marry, then we had to marry oth-
ers, but at least keep our own faith!”
“But the “đước” was dying out! Let’s do some planning to-
gether–I’ll send someone here to stay with you, teaching your
offspring catechism. To your sons and daughters in-law, you tell
them who the Lord is. If they know he is the Father, they’ll love
him naturally. How does it sound to you?”
“Sure! It would be best with nuns though!”
Before getting into my mosquito nest, I privately asked Mrs.
Tư Quý, “Is there a restroom here?”
“There is one, way in the back, but you’ll have to wade in
mud up to here”... She marked half way to her knee with a fin-
ger.
“What if I need it in the middle of the night?”
“Just go to the riverbank then. It would be too dark to be
seen anyway!”
Out there, the night was pitch black and sprinkling. I thought,
If the nuns were sent here, how would they cope with it? Would
it be possible to “Live As” one hundred percent? There’s cer-
tainly not an easy answer!
The toilets built on the riverbank were removed as ordered
by the local officials. The modern toilets were not here yet. Just
a simple hole in the ground like those in the highland cannot be
done here. So, ones have to go to the extreme, banking on the
darkness of the night...
But the Good News could not be delayed just because of
that!

Two young men and a girl came. “Tomorrow’s our mother’s me-
morial anniversary. We’d like to have you say a Mass for her.”
“Where’re you from?”
“We live at Đầm Bà Tường. We came back for our mother’s
memorial anniversary,” the couple said.
“How far is it?”
“Three-hour rowing for us.”
“And how about you?”
“I’m from Tân Ánh.”
“How far is it?”
“About eight kilometers.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to come to your house to say Mass
for your mother?”
“We are too poor ...”
“It’s okay! I’ll come to say Mass for your mother, and get to
know you at the same time!”

Today I took the motorboat to Tân Ánh with three nuns and two
laities. The boat ride took us forty-five minutes.
The family was truly poor. The hut was so small. The al-
tar in the center was almost touching the two beds on its sides.
Mass attendants included the mother and some offspring of the
deceased. The mother was eighty-two. Due to the war, she only
had the youngest daughter baptized, which was the one the to-
day the Mass was for. Her last Confession was over forty years
ago. She has numerous offspring in Cái Rắn, but today I’ve met
her for the first time. The three nuns asked earnestly for the
eighty-two year old woman to come to Cái Rắn for Confession
and Mass. She refused, her busy life as an excuse... but when I
was ready to leave, she followed with a bag. The Sisters must be
very good at it!
1
Nguyễn Long Phi (1884-1964,) a peasant in Đầm Dơi, Cà Mau, who was na-
tionally known for his talent in storytelling. Among the stories, the character
of “Mr. Đậu” (literally and actually a Vietnamese version of Mr. Bean) was
most famous and best loved, thus came forth the colloquial “Tệ như vợ thằng
Đậu,” literally “as dumb as Mrs. Bean,” referring to a dim-witted person.
Đậu’s real name is Nguyễn Quốc Trị, Nguyễn Long Phi’s only grandson from
Nguyễn Tứ Hải (his only son) and Nguyễn Thị Anh.
Another well-known Vietnamese who was born in the Province of Ca Mau is

Ba Dũng, better known as Nguyễn Tấn Dũng, the current Prime Minister of
Vietnam as of 2009.
2
Again, “Mắm” and “Đước” are both mangrove trees, with “Đước,” more
commercially valuable being straighter, taller, and a better wood.
‘Mắm’ mangrove forest ‘Đước’ mangrove forest
Fishing at Đầm Bà Tường, 2008
8
43. BLACK TEETH 227
43. BLACK TEETH
Hiền Quan, Aug. 1989

LEFT SƠN TÂY DIOCESAN HOUSE today for my birthplace
after thirty-seven years of separation. On the barge to
Trung Hà, feeling so excited, and sang softly to myself
“Those on their way to Đà Giang... please send a few words
of my loving regards to the poor thatched roofs along the rows
of areca palms”... Hearing my singing, the lady with a bicycle
standing in front of me turned around. With meaningful eyes,
she smiled at me, showing a pearly black set of teeth. I shyly
looked away to the mountain range of Ba Vì at the horizon.
“You must be from the South.”
“No, I’m just from Sơn Tây right here!”
“Only Southerners would sing light-heartedly like that!”
“You mean... I’m a young-at-heart kinda old man, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that! Being carefree like that was lovely. Too
formal would be pretentious... and boring.”
The lady was about fifty, daring, intelligent, open, but not
attractive; Her black teeth had given me goose bumps. I quietly
waited for the barge to come ashore. When it did, I jumped right
onto the backseat of the motorcycle, tapped on the shoulder of
my brother. “Go, quick!”
The unpaved road was pretty smooth. The motorcycle
zoomed vigorously. I silently recalled each and every familiar
locations: Hưng Hóa, Hương Nộn, Tứ Cường, Thanh Uyên, Gia
Áo... Hiền Quan was coming closer. The childhood memories
flashed back, unsorted in my mind––The very tall cotton tree
in front of the village with the messy back birds’ nests and zil-
lions of scarlet flowers... the very old royal poinciana tree on the
side of the church that turned girlishly colorful every summer...
I loved to pick up the fallen cotton tree flowers to suck on them

for their nectar, and the fresh royal poinciana flowers to chew on
their lightly tart stalks...
The motorcycle broke through the border Hiền Quan. I
looked for the cotton tree; it’s no longer there... It climbed up the
slope to the church. I looked for the Poinciana tree; it’s gone...
All landmarks of my childhood disappeared without a trace. I
felt like a stranger right on my own hometown.
The motorcycle turned twice into a huge crowd of my home
villagers. The applause was hearty, the greeting was thunder-
ing, but strangely, I felt lonely at heart. My parents, uncles and
aunts, both on the paternal and maternal sides were all gone.
There were only two older sisters and a younger brother whom
I couldn’t even recognize. Old friends were numerous, but I
couldn’t recognize any of them either. Lost!
The parish courtyard was packed. I sat next to a spiritual-
brother who’s the Parish priest of many parishes. In front of us
was a table full of Chinese beer, Hanoi soda, and local tea. The
Dean clapped his hands, signaling. The crowd fell absolutely si-
lent. He read the welcoming letter to nobody’s care. Thousands
of eyes fixed on me, eagerly waiting for my speech in reply.
Thirty-seven years of absence; thirty-seven years of waiting; an-
other minute of waiting appeared to be unbearable...
The Dean’s reading ended. A thousand smiles exploded. A
shocking discovery–There were so many black teeth, pearly
black teeth, rough, uneven, familiar, but no longer lovable black
teeth. The feeling at Trung Hà crept back silently. Why?
The question burdened me with a mix feeling...
When I was young, I’ve seen the tooth blackening process
of my older sister. She burned a stick of “mua” (Asian melastome,)
and let its thick black sap drop onto a thin blade. Looking into
a mirror, she carefully dabbed it onto her perfectly white set of
teeth. She swallowed her saliva noisily with her mouth wide
open. After that, she ate only rice porridge. She stopped smiling.
43. BLACK TEETH 229
Her lips were swollen up. She looked at the mirror secretly from
time to time... What a suffering! She had willingly suffered to be
beautiful, and to be human. 1
1. SUFFERING FOR BEAUTY. Black teeth were glorious. Black
teeth had marched victoriously into the national culture. Black
teeth were caressed by literatures. Thousands and thousands of
people had hailed black teeth like a crowded queen. Among the
ten most desirable qualities of a lovely girl, black teeth were
number four. “...Three: Love your cheek dimples; Four: Love
your teeth comparable with black pearls...”
I could clearly recall back in those days at my elementary
school, our teacher had an essay read in class, describing the
scenery of a country village at dawn; In the story, the girls were
on their way to the rice fields, talking and laughing happily,
showing “full sets of teeth as glossy black as the sugar-apple
(annona squamosa) seeds” (sic)
The Diocese of Hưng Hóa back then had a seminarian named
Phan Trọng Kim from Xuân Bích Grand Seminary in Hanoi. He
had a set of black teeth that was so famous in the Diocese. His
teeth were even and glossy black like rows of sugar-apple seeds.
Everywhere he went, he proudly showed them off. Everyone
wanted to see it to believe it... There must be several young la-
dies who secretly fell in love with his teeth, and broken hearts
when he was ordained.
2. SUFFERING TO BE HUMAN. I remembered, after the Au-
gust Revolution, 2 there was a girl who swore not to dye her teeth
black. That angered the whole village. “What kind of girl who
got teeth white as such of buffaloes and horses!... Gotta dye your
teeth black at the age of fourteen... White teeth are for animals
only!... Teeth white as pigs’ would make you so unfit and un-
wanted for marriage!”...
That’s right! Who knew for how many thousand years, black
teeth were the teeth of the decent people. The Parish priest, the
Dean, the pastoral care minister lady... all dyed their teeth black.
Those were exemplary decent people. My father, mother, big

sister, little sisters... were all decent people. Everybody wanted
to be a decent person, and that’s why everyone in the village
had dyed their teeth black, except for that strong-minded girl. A
grave punishment was imposed upon her. No young man in the
village would flirt with her; The cruel poetic singing were heard,
mocking her everywhere in the village...
The back teeth were “marching in unison” with this country
for thousands of years. It had fought its way to the highest posi-
tion. It had decency, literature, and art in total control...
Thought those, it had become a forever truth; But alas, who
could have known! Within thirty-seven years, may be even less,
it went totally bankrupt! From the days of Teeth that turned the
sugar-apple seeds green with envy, black teeth had become Teeth
of the machete wielders.
The fact of the matter was, even the beauty and the decency
of black teeth were space’s and time’s companions only. Its fate
was relative, and had gotten to change with the flow of history.
Seeing the destiny of black teeth, I suddenly looked back to
the history of evangelization, worrying. Being over-confident,
there were times, the evangelists had full-heartedly condemned
and eliminated. Lord Jesus was the cause and the effect of every-
thing, but Jesus’ preachers had immersed themselves in relativi-
ty, and still on the way leading to him only. The road was forever
long, but the travelers were already exhausted. The modesty in
evangelizing mission suddenly concerned me gravely.
I reread the “Joy and Hope Pastoral Constitution” 3 to recon-
firm that the Church has to respect and love all components of
the world community. The Church does not impose, but offer to
the word her honest cooperation to create a world fraternity.
Bye-bye, black teeth!
8
43. BLACK TEETH 231
1
The tradition of tooth blackening originates from marriage rites. A woman is
deemed to be ready to be married after she undergoes her first tooth blacken-
ing ceremony. During this process usually three applications are made since
saliva washes out the dyestuff. During this time a woman is unable to eat solid
food and has to drink through a straw. Other than discomfort due to some
hunger, there are little side effects of this procedure. Some women had their
whole mouths swell up, gums burned, and lips stung.
The cultural reason for tooth blackening was due to a belief that only wild ani-
mals, demons and savages had long white teeth. Originally, some Vietnamese
would blacken their teeth in order not to be mistaken for an evil spirit. There
are ancient statues in Vietnam that depict people holding objects in front of
their teeth when speaking to royalty – this was done out of respect from having
the royalty exposed to the servants’ white teeth. Some people in Vietnam still
hold a hand in front of their mouth when they speak, traditionally out of the
respect.
Another reason besides tradition is that tooth blackening prevents tooth decay
in people who can’t afford dental care, and those who have had their teeth
blackened keep a full set of teeth longer than people who have not. Further-
more, teeth blackening people believed to live healthier and longer.
2
On August 19, 1945, the Việt Minh under Hồ Chí Minh began the “August
General Uprising,” which was soon renamed the August Revolution, also
known as the “Uprising by the Indochinese Communist Party.”
3
Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World “Gaudium et Spes”
by Vatican II on Dec. 7, 1965.
A young Vietnamese woman in Son Tay

with blackened teeth, circa 1950
8
44. MELANCHOLY 233
44. MELANCHOLY
Cái Rắn, 1998

ESTERDAY I DEVELOPED the subject of “Good News in
LovingYour Enemies,” speaking from my heart.The au-
1
dience appeared to be totally captivated. Feeling so good!

But who knew... This morning, a nun informed. “Yesterday,
when our group was discussing the sermon of Good News that
you’d preached, an old woman stood up and left in distress.
She said, I’m not going to continue with my learning. The Lord
teaches me to love my enemy, but I can’t do that! My daughter
in law has been so disrespectful, and I can’t forgive her for that!
I had swore on my last breath that I will not forgive her, and
even had that swear recorded!”
“How sad... There’s not much we can do; But it’s not hope-
less. Let’s us all pray for her, hoping that someday she’ll come
back”...
I had felt sad some times, but only for a moment. Today,
my sadness was lingering. What a waste! Holding the Bible in
hands physically, reading it verbally, listening to it audibly, au-
dio-visual and all, but yet leaving in distress... Why?
Feeling confounded, my mind meandered back to the past.
1. AN OLD PRIEST told me the saddest story in his life–
His parish had two largest family names––the “Nguyễn” and
the “Trần.” They had had competed with each other in any and
all aspects of life–Culturally, socially, religiously, and economi-
cally. Nguyễn gave the church a piece of land–Trần would give
two. Nguyễn had one bachelor degree–Trần would try to get
a master. Nguyễn sent one to the minor seminary–Trần would
send two... That went on until one day, during a land dispute,
they broke out in fights. The Nguyễn Chief got badly injured.
The priest was invited over for the last rites. The ultimate condi-
tion for the final rites was forgiveness. The man firmly said no
to that. The priest asked earnestly. “The Lord was innocent, but
yet the Israeli crucified him; But he forgave them all–Father,
forgive these people!”
“He is what he is, and I am what I am. This enmity has been
and will be for generations. I cannot forgive it!”
Having lost the first hand, the priest played the second one,
bluffing. “If you don’t forgive, you’ll go straight to hell!”
“I’d rather go to hell than to forgive!”
Loosing the second hand, the priest played down on the last
one. He held up the cross. “Look up here to the Lord, the Lord
of Love. Pray with me–Lord, forgive me, and help me to forgive
my enemy.”
Mr. Nguyễn shut his eyes, turned to the wall, and exhaled
his last breath.
2. WHEN I WAS YOUNG, my grandfather came to see us. He
picked my little brother up, embraced him tightly, and kissed
him profusely. The young boy bursted out crying. My mother
flew over to get him back. The boy didn’t stop crying. She had
to pretend to hit Grandpa–Grammy hurt my baby, Mommy hurt
Grammy back, here!... here!...
Fully satisfied with the revenge, my little brother stopped
crying. Few minutes later, he went right back to his grinning.
Seeds of animosity had been sown into our souls right from our
youngest days. They had germinated, sprouted up, developed,
and continuously nurtured by encouragements of hatred here
and there in the classrooms of schools and the classrooms of
life...
Fifty years later, the seeds of love and of forgiveness were
sown into it afterward...
It was too late. Consequently, the seeds of love and of for-
giveness were choked to death in the fields of animosity!
44. MELANCHOLY 235
This morning a young man with a Clark-Gable-styled mous-

tache dropped by to see me. He mumbled like a chicken choked
with a rubber band. “Would you lend me $600K, Ông Cố?”(~US
$50 in ‘98,)
“For what?”
“For taking my wife to birthing. She’ll be due soon, but we
ain’t got no money.”
“When your wife got pregnant, you could have saved up at
least one ‘chỉ’ 1 for maternal care and additional nourishments.”
“We’re too poor for that! ”
“If you’re too poor, then you shouldn’t have kid. A kid has
to be raised properly and educated properly. Thus, you have to
work hard and save up. Work a lot, drink a lot like you’ve been
doing... to the end of days, you wouldn’t have a dime in your
pocket... If I lend you $600K, when would you pay me back?”
“I’ll try to work to pay you back, Ông Cố!”
“You’ve been trying for so many years, and still didn’t have
the money to take your wife to birthing, how would you try to
pay back?”... (no answer.)
I gave him $200K (~US $17) with a heavy heart. “Here, I give
you $200K. You don’t have to pay me back; But from now on,
you have to work more, and spend less. Make ten, spend six,
save four... okay?”
He took the money and left. Me, I didn’t know what to do
next. Couldn’t read, couldn’t write. I was not in the mood for
anything. Spirit down, I reminisced–
1. AN OLD WIDOWER who lived alone in a tattered hut. His
shovel was his only possession. Each day of shoveling, he got
paid with $25K (~US $2) He would drink to the last dime before
hitting the sack. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
2. A YOUNG MAN, single, who dug up a cobra, and sold it
for $200K (~US $17) at the Rau Dừa Market. With that, he went
straight to a bar. When he left the bar, he took only his alcoholic
breath home as a souvenir.
3. I ASKED A YOUNG MAN “What do you do for a living?”
“I patch bike tires”
“How much you make a day?”
“Fifty grand” (~US $4)
“How much of it did you give to your Mom?”
“She took care of me. She let me spend the money I make....
Every day, I got a bowl of ‘phở,’ a pack of Jet® cigarette, a glass
of iced coffee, and the rest for ‘happy hour’ with my friends.”
“So where’s the saving for your future marriage?”
“My Mom will take care of that!”
4. A LITTLE GIRL JUMPING AROUND in front of the parish
house, holding a large piece of fried banana, chewing on it nois-
ily, lips over-glossing with oil.
“Come here, my little one! How much you spent a day on
snacks?”
“Mummy gimme two grand (~US $.15); if that not ‘enuf,
she’ll gimme more!”
“Save two hundred ($.02) a day in a piggy bank, and at the
end of the month, give it to the church, okay?”
“If Ông Cố wanna have a bowl of noodle mix, I’ll get you
one; but if Ông Cố want me to save $200 a day, I’m not gonna
play with you no more”...
5. A YOUNG STRANGER popped in and out at the door. “Are
you the priest, uncle?”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“I herd ducks for hire. Came home one day after drinking
with friends, my lady left.”
“Where did she go?”
“Back to her hometown in Đồng Tháp. Now I gotta go there
to get her. Would you gimme a few grand for the bus fare?”
“Working for hire with not a dime in your pocket?”
“Barely hand to mouth, it ain’t ‘nuf for saving”...
44. MELANCHOLY 237
There’s no way for him to tend duck, 3 take his wife along, and
save at the same time. A day worker who spent time with friends
until his wife left? Lots of questions... Give him ten thousands?
Damned if do and damned if don’t. Giving or not giving, which
one would be more benevolent? Just go ahead and help them
and only help myself with melancholy?... Perhaps I have to stop
civil development, since it was mostly in vain. Perhaps I have
to start with public education first instead, and then let them
develop economically by themselves. Perhaps poverty and il-
literacy will be forever burdens on my shoulders, pushing me
down until the day I break.
8
1
“This is what I say to all who will listen to me: Love your enemies, and be
good to everyone who hates you. Ask God to bless anyone who curses you, and
pray for everyone who is cruel to you” – Luke 6:27-28
2
On tenth of an ounce of gold.
3
Free range duck herding required him to move from village to village, place to
place, mainly to keep the ducks out of people’s rice fields.
Duck herding, 2008
8
45. ABSTINENCE AND FASTING 239
45. ABSTINENCE 1 AND FASTING
Cái Rắn, Mar. 28, 1997

THREW AWAY the toothpick. A voice came from be-
hind. “Is it twelve o’clock yet, Ông Cố?” – “What
for?” – “So I can ring the bell for lunch” – “Why?”
“Because today is abstinence day, one can only have lunch at the
bell” – “What law was it?” – “I don’t know!”...
After the Adoration of the Cross rites, I started to investigate
the rules of abstinence here. The elders competed to show off
their memories. “Eating a piece of pork meat the size of the
tip of your thumb would be a grave sin. It’s okay to eat frogs,
eels, lizards, fishes, shrimps... For birds, it’s okay to eat storks,
cranes, herons... It’s okay to eat balut, 2 since they are still con-
sidered eggs. When the duckling came out of the shell, then it
would be considered duck, and become restricted!”...
In reward for their excellent memories, I gave them a story,
a true story of my life–
“1945, I was a pre-seminarian at Vĩnh Lộc parish in Thạch
Thất, Sơn Tây. During Ash Wednesday of 1946, several semi-
narians had gathered at the parish house–Seminarian Nhã, Tài,
Viêm... The parish house became so festive. The old Parish
priest was so high-spirited like we’ve never seen before. “You
pre-seminarians go to the pond, net all tilapias up to give the
seminarians a feast of sushi salad!”
“Sure, Father, but please allow us to go changing into our
shorts first!”
“I permit you to play Adam instead. There’s not much to
hide anyway... just about the size of a red pepper max, right?!”
We jumped right into the pond, pushing the duckweeds out
of the way, setting up the net, hitting the water surface to scare
the fishes into the net. Wading and playing with mud were our
favorite pastime–a forbidden pastime that was once in a lifetime
approved and encouraged. We were so thrilled!
The Lenten dinner of that year was the best dinner of the
year. The old Parish priest and the seminarians were so well fed.
And us, we didn’t care for it, and weren’t allowed to have any of
it anyway. Kids were never allowed to eat raw fish salad. Play-
ing was much better.
The story ended, with no question from the audience. Every-
body was having a good laugh. Everybody knew that meat eat-
ing was prohibited by the laws, but not fishes. Nobody realized
that eating fresh fish salad, the dish that luxury was a serious
violation of the law of abstinence, a violation of law in the name
of the law itself.
I took the book of Roman Missal out to read the opening
prayer to reconfirm the purpose of abstinence.–Lord, today, we all
abstinence and fast to start upon the spiritual contest. Please help us
to gird ourselves for intense ascetic struggle to strengthen ourselves
in gaining the victory over the demonic powers...
I additionally read the Lenten Opening Prayer III–You want
us to use abstinence to express our gratitude to you. From that, we
the sinful, can alleviate our insolence, and when help caring for the
indigent, we know how to follow your benevolence.
Thus, obviously, the purpose of abstinence was solely to
spiritually strengthening though self-restraining in food indulg-
ing and expense spending in order to fight against and win over
temptations, and moreover, saving some to help the poor.
Thus, obviously, my old Parish priest had completely de-
fied the purpose of abstinence and fasting through the feast of
fresh fish salad that year. However, the bottom line was, he was
totally innocent. So who has been actually at fault? It had to
be the legislators. The presentation of the law in form without
presenting the moral of the law was how I’ve been taught in the-
ology class. My professor himself said, “Eating balut would not
be considered an abstinence violation, since the duck inside the

shell was not considered duck, but just part of the egg instead.”
When presenting the shell of the law, my professor had forgotten
to consider the moral of the law, therefore gone astray from the
main purpose of the law.
Reminiscing that, I felt so shameful. From now on, I will tell
the catechumen, the new followers, and the laities... a simple
thing: “Restrain yourselves from indulging during abstinence
days, and eat less during fasting days. Overcome the eating urge
and the hunger to win over our carnal weakness. Best is to con-
sume fruits and vegetables only. Besides, control your eating like
that may result in saving something to share with the poor!”
I’ll never say that eating balut would not be considered eat-
ing duck, eating braised eels, buttered fried frogs would not be
considered abstinence violations. I’ll send all of those back to
my lecturer. Those things cannot be the luggage of an evange-
list. Too cumbersome, too big to travel with, and complicated
enough to have us deviating from our path.
Cái Rắn, Feb. 20, 1999

Today, the tourists from Saigon poured into Cái Rắn like people
flocking to a festival. The two large motorboats, loading to their
maximum capacities could only take sixty passengers, leaving
twenty on the pier awaiting for the next three smaller ones.
The church courtyard was full of people. The patients were
waiting for doctors and dentists; the children were waiting for a
festival and gifts of cookies and candies. People busily walked
back and forth.
Doctor Nghĩa solemnly and leisurely strolled like a king on
his way to the ... Pastor Lộc’s eyes blinked and blinked like in
mocking of the world. Professor Nhiên 3 silently mumbling like
he was trying to solve a difficult equation... Everyone was starv-
ing, since the day before was a day of fasting, and the night
before was a night of sleep deprivation.

The lunch was below average in quality, but it was devoured
heartily by the everyone. In hunger, cold rice had turned into bird
nest soup. 4 Everyone was eating in memory of the day before.
“I was trembling with hunger yesterday!”... “It must be true that
there’s a devil leading us to temptation. Foods in the fasting day
dinners were nothing, but the appetite was always incredible,
pushing us to indulge to the last line before breaking the fasting
limit!”... “When I was at Saigon Seminary, dinners of the fasting
days used to be just boiled veggies and hardboiled eggs in fish
sauce for dipping. Normally, I ate two plates of rice, and just one
for fasting, but the devil must have tempted me into pretending
to put too much fish sauce onto the rice in order to get more rice,
and pretending to take too much rice in order to get more fish
sauce... only to end up turning one plate into 1.99 plates, just
enough to keep my conscience at ease. What a joke!”
Cà Mau, ...
Today the Bishop came to join Minh Hải Diocese’s reflection.
I shared. “Your Excellency, I realized that the abstinence laws
were so fractional and comical. Eating a piece of pork meat con-
stitutes a grave sin, but eating a whole pot of braised eels would
not. Why consuming the cold-blooded was accepted?”
“This law was originally devised for the Westerners. Over
there, a meal with no meat would instantly become ascetic.”
“Your Excellency, do the people in France still practice ab-
stinence?”
“Generally, they no longer care; but in several localities, the
sales of meat were still officially banned on Friday, not for re-
ligious reasons, but for the benefits of the fishermen’s unions
instead.”
“I suggest that the abstinence and fasting laws to be adjusted
to achieve the goals that the Church had set forth.”
1
The law of abstinence prohibits Catholics from indulging in meat diet on duly
appointed days. Meat diet comprises the flesh, blood, or marrow of such ani-
mals and birds is constitute flesh meat according to the appreciation of intel-
ligent and law-abiding Christians. For this reason, the use of fish, vegetables,
mollusks, crabs, turtles, frogs, and other cold-blooded creatures is not at vari-
ance with the law of abstinence.
2
16-19 day-old fertilized duck eggs.
3
See Professor Trần Duy Nhiên – See Appendix, page 325
4
The edible bird’s nests traditionally used in Chinese cooking for over 400
years, most often as bird’s nest soup. Mostly white-nest Swiftlet (Aerodramus
fuciphagus) and the black-nest Swiftlet (Aerodramus maximus,) these are
among the most expensive animal products consumed by humans. In Hong
Kong, a bowl of bird nest soup costs US $30 - $100. One kilogram of white
nest can cost up to US $2,000, or up to US $10,000 for “blood red” ones.
A child somewhere in the countryside of Vietnam, 2008
8
46. THE UNEXPECTED 245
46. THE UNEXPECTED
Sơn Tây, 1 Oct. 10, 1990

HIS MORNING, I CAME TO TUY LỘC to concelebrate
Mass with the local priests for the parish godfather’s
day. The church was so small. There was no vestry.
The vestments were arranged right on the altar. I was putting
them on when the Pastor whispered “You preach, Pio!”
“Yes Father!” Saying yes, but wondering, Should I preach
here or not? What to share and what to keep to myself?...
The content of today’s reading was “Evangelizing March.” I
dared not talk about evangelizing today, 2 so I just reviewed part
of yesterday’s sermon–The Issues of Ancestors Worshipping.
Getting rid of the ancestor altars was a strategic mistake, but
it was an inevitable one. Reasons–
1. Back then, East just met West; There was no mutual un-
derstanding. Mrs. Pearl Buck had proved that in this story–A
Westerner went out to dine at a restaurant in Shanghai. While
dining with great appetite, he froze, feeling sick in the stom-
ach when the Chinese man at the next table casually spat onto
the floor. Couldn’t help it, the Westerner said. You Chinese were
disgusting! Spitting on the floor was so uncivilized and unsanitary!
The Chinese said. It’s unclean, and that’s why we Chinese spit it out
explicably. You whites spat onto the handkerchief, wrap it up, put it in
your trousers pocket, and that’s really disgusting!
The missionaries back then were unable to understand the
noun “ĐẠO” and the verb “THỜ” in Vietnamese. The noun
“ĐẠO” meant only one thing to them: Religion, and the act of
“THỜ”, to them, can only apply to God.
But actually, in Vietnamese, the word “ĐẠO” could be trans-
late as either a religion or an obligations–such as obligations of
subjects to a king, of sons to a father, of spouse to a spouse, of

a friend to friends... The verb “THỜ” can be translated as either
the act of revering god and deities, or the act of being loyal,
dutiful... such as a subject loyal to his king, a wife loyal to her
husband, children dutiful to their parents... Mr. Phan Văn Trị
had reminded Mr. Tôn Thọ Tường. Oh Tôn Quyền, have you not
know... As good citizens ‘thờ’ their king, good women must ‘thờ’ their
husbands 3 Since Christianity is a monotheism, the missionaries
wouldn’t allow ancestors worshiping–You must worship the Lord
your God and serve only him. The missionaries were that wrong,
but yet that right!
2. Back then, people believed that the ancestors would spiri-
tually come back for the offerings. This belief was clearly dem-
onstrated in the “Day of Spiritual Amnesty.” There were virtu-
ous women who ordered huge pots of porridge to be cooked
and carried along by the servants. They then followed behind,
scooped the porridge out, filled the jackfruit leaves with it, then
left them along the roadsides as almsgiving to the uncared-for
spirits. This belief did not jive with Christian belief, thus Chris-
tians were not allowed to make food offerings to the deceased.
From thereon, numerous misunderstandings between Chris-
tians and non-Christians were born. The non-Christians com-
plained that Christians were filial disloyal, while Christians were
not only filial loyal but also having Mass said by the Church in
praying for their grandparents and/or parents... During that pe-
riod, it was right to ban ancestors worshiping.
Nowadays, the Vietnamese Bishops had completely over-
hauled the rules of ancestors worshipping. It now is national
culture, and the laities are allowed to actively engage in all ritu-
als of ancestors worshipping...
My sermon had everyone surprised, and dumbfounded... I
stayed over for dinner with them. The Parish priest didn’t say
a word. The parishioners had no idea. The preaching sermon
seemed to flop into the river...
Sơn Tây, October 26, 1990

I was getting ready for lunch when a nun came, whispering to
my ear “You have guests!”
“Who’s that?”
“Four (...) men from Tuy Lộc!”
“Uh oh... there must be some problems! Did you sense what
they want?”
”I don’t know! They just said that they want to exchange
with you about your sermon!”
“My sermon was so innocent! It was only a story of a hun-
dred year old!”...
“You go right ahead! I’ll bring some water out later!”
I dragged my feet, wishing that the space were infinite, so I
would never have to face them...
“Hello Pastor!”
“Hello”...
“Your sermon was taped and distributed throughout the com-
mune. We didn’t come to the Mass, but yet we had listened...”
“Did you find any problem with it? I don’t know who re-
corded it; I wouldn’t let them if I ony knew”...
“Your sermon covered many things that we had never
known!”...
“Would you please tell me what those are? I only recited,
sincerely, the misunderstandings between the Catholics and the
non-Catholics in the past that now no longer exist! The Catholics
and non-Catholics now understand each other a lot, and hence
love each other a lot more”...
“You must be wondering what we are here for. Let us tell
you now so you can relax–Through your sermon, now we un-
derstand why the Catholics didn’t worship their ancestors. Since
we know now, we came here for... catechism.”
“You mean... you... want to be Catholic?”
“If the Catholic Church allows ancestor worshipping, then
there’s no more question!”

“I’m very sorry that I am going to leave here soon; But don’t
worry! You can learn from anybody here”...
Saying goodbye to them, feeling so... whew! lovely.
Cà Mau, ...
I just came back from Bà Hính after two long days for a memo-
rial anniversary. Everyone was exhausted, but happy.
Mrs. Bảy Hó had tuberculosis. She was baptized by the Sis-
ters about a month before dying. The last wish that she had mut-
tered to her family members was “Invite the priest home for the
rites.” The wish was honored and carried out in full.
Two concelebrating Masses were said in a non-Catholic
home. Her immediate family members, her relatives, her neigh-
bors and all stood in two straight lines, offering incense uni-
formly and formally under the guidance of Sister Marie.
There were murmurs... “The Catholic also offer incense like
us, paying respect to the deceased with their hands clasped over
their heads like us, but yet they do it uniformly, and beautifully.
Mrs. Bảy is so lucky!”
After Mass and right after dinner, the group from Cà Mau
was dispersed into the village looking for places to stay over-
night. Rev. Mười Râu and me shared a bed. Sister Marie and a
few Catholic mothers went into the house’s inner quarter. The
homeowner cordially said “Good night Reverend! I gotta stay up
tonight at the mourning family. I’ll see you in the morning!”...
“Thank you, Mrs. Hai!”
This morning, before I finished washing my face, I was sur-
rounded by the choir members, telling me secrets. “Last night,
Mrs. Hai, not knowing that we were staying here, had said open-
ly, I had pretended to leave, but actually, I stayed back secretly
vigilant for an hour to see if there were any woman slipping
into the mosquito net of the priests!” ... “She also observed, The
older priest had slept without pillow”... “Mr. Hai promised to

join the priest’s religion”...
8
1
Sơn Tây, 35-km west of Hanoi, is often referred to as “Soldier Town” due to
the proliferation of Army barracks and military institutions that surround the
town, including the Vietnamese People’s Army Infantry Academy. For western
media, Sơn Tây is more well-known for the failed U.S. Military’s Prisoner-
Of-War rescue attempt in the early morning hours of Nov. 21, 1970, when a
special task force of Green Berets, supported by Air Force and Navy assets,
raided a POW Camp located in the province. The raid failed in its stated
objective when no prisoners found, but managed to extract successfully with
minimal loss in equipment, and no loss of life for the raiding force.
2
1925,Vatican set up a Resident Superior Head Office in Vietnam, oversee-
ing Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia and Laos – 1950, Vatican chose Monsignor
Dooley to be the resident superior of the office – 1951, Monsignor Dooley
issued a Catholic Epistle that reads “...We are aware of our responsibility to
remind brothers and sisters to be alert and to fight against the great danger
of Communism at present. You are not allowed to join the Communist Party,
to cooperate with the Communists, or to do anything that may help the Com-
munist Party to be in power”... In 1959, it was moved to Saigon. The last
representative of the Vatican, Henri Lematire, left Vietnam in August 1975.
1971, North Vietnamese Vice-president Nguyễn Thị Bình received by a prelate

in Rome.
1973, Pope Paul VI officially received Minister Nguyễn Xuân Thủy of the
Democratic Republic of Vietnam and Minister Nguyễn Văn Hiệu of the Pro-
visional Revolution Government of the Republic of South Vietnam during the
signing of the Paris Agreement.
1975, The relation between Vietnam and the Vatican was “frozen”.
1988, Vatican sanctified 117 Vietnamese martyrs, creating a negative impact

on the relation between the two sides.
1989, Cardinal Roger Etchegaray, representative of Pope John Paul II, came
to Vietnam. This was the first time since 1975 that a high-ranked officer of
the Vatican had come to visit the Vietnamese Catholic Church. Cardinal
Etchegaray said that he came to Vietnam as a messenger of peace. The visit
of the Vatican’s head of the Department of Justice and Peace helped open the
diplomatic ties between the State of Vietnam and the Holy See.
1990, a delegation from the Vatican led by cardinal Etchegaray, and including
Monsignor Claudio Celli, the under-secretary for foreign affairs and Monsi-
gnor Banabe Nguyễn Văn Phương from the Ministry of Missionary Works.
This was the first time that the Vatican’s delegation had come to officially
work with the Vietnamese government. The delegation began by talking about
issues of the shared interests. The two sides signed an agreement.
Until March 2007, there have been 13 working visits paid by the Vatican’s of-
ficers to Vietnam (Nguyễn Hồng Dương–The Relationship between the State
of Vietnam and the Roman Catholic Church at the Present–2007).
Without these background information, we would never be able to realize how

tense the relationship between Vatican and the Communist government of Viet-
nam has been, and how explosive the long-term and ever-increasing animosity
between the Vietnamese Catholic and the Communist government of Vietnam
had become; consequently, ones can never fathom the danger that the Author
has been voluntarily putting himself into throughout his evangelical missions
in Vietnam, evermore in the North, and particularly in hot spots like Sơn Tây
where his sermon was secretly recorded and submitted for security screening
without his consent. When the four (...) man came, he thought that they had
come for his arrest...
3
Phan Văn Trị (1830-1910) a patriotic poet, graduated as bachelor in the
Nguyen Dynasty (1849.) He set up a school and taught instead of serving the
royal court. His anti-French reflected by engaging in a poetic polemic with
Tôn Thọ Tường, a fellow poet who collaborated with the French.
Daughters of Charity of Vincent de Paul

Sister Pascal Le Thi Triu, 2009
8
47. AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL 251
47. AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL
Cái Rắn, February 25, 1999

ISHOP MẪN HAD LEFT. I told the Provincial Minister
Sister of Charity of St. Vincent De Paul “We have a
whole evening off schedule. Let’s use it for a tour of
Sông Đốc township, the richest one in Cà Mau Province then!”
“How far is it, Father?”
“Over twenty kilometers from here. The today’s specialty is,
since we are still within the ten days of New Year Celebration,
we can see the fishing boats packing as sardines at the port”...
I counted nineteen dark blue shirts (the Sisters’ uniform,)
mostly in their forty’s; all well-seasoned and bold. Someone
yelled over the engine noise. “Be our tour guide, Father!”
“All right! We are on Ba Ngàn irrigation canal. It was dug
by the order of Bishop Mẫn’s great grandfather in the ‘30s while
he was managing two hundred hectares for the local parish. It
is three kilometer long, mainly for soil acid washing, but con-
veniently for him to be able to row his boat to visit his father
in Rạch Lùm. Rạch Lùm is a township right next to Ông Đốc
provincial capital, in Khánh Hải village, Trần Văn Thời ward,
the second hometown of Bishop Mẫn’s grandfather and also the
birthplace of Bác Ba Phi... Yes, after three kilometers, we’ll en-
ter Ông Tự Canal, then merging into Ông Đốc River”...
“Why it’s named Ông Đốc River?”
“This river is more than fifty kilometer long, starting from
the Trẹm river in Thới Bình provincial capital, and ends at the
Southwest shore of Vietnam. The river was named ‘Ông Đốc’
(literally ‘Mr. Governor’) since at the end of the eighteenth century,
Emperor Gia Long, being chased by Tây Sơn army, had come
to Cái Rắn, and assigned two governors at two posting points:
Governor Lới at ‘Đốc Lới,’ now in Tân Ánh township, approx-

imately eight kilometers from Cái Rắn church, and Governor
Vàng at this river mouth”...
“Had the Emperor actually come to Cái Rắn, Father?”
“Yes. He had come to this area, and had a pond dug for his
own use. This pond, called “The Royal Pond,” is about two hun-
dred meters from Cái Rắn church!”
“Where did you get all of those data?”
“The local elders told me!”
Done with the narrative, I just sat there, looking around,
chewing on a coffee candy. A little bitter, little sweet, little but-
tery, little aromatic. Perfect! “We are approaching Ông Đốc pro-
vincial capital! Look onto your right side!”...
“Wow! Where did all of those boats come from? How many
are there, Father?”
“Over four hundred! They had come back for the New Year,
and haven’t left yet, that’s why the marina is packed!”
“How many millions would one cost?”
“Millions? I’d let you touch it for a million... Those big ones
that fish in the international water would have cost somewhere
from 400 millions to one billion” (~US $40K to US $100K)
“?!”...
“That means there’re 400 billionaires in Ông Đốc!”
To the Saigonese, the boat crowd was the only scene worth
watching. For the marketplace, they just gave it a glance, and
asked to go home. On the way back, there was a nun who looked
like an expatriate, sharing the bench with me.
“Excuse me; What’s your name?”
“My name is Pascal” 1
“Ah, I know you! You’ve been flying back and forth like a
locust, right? Where did you just come back from?”
“I’ve been here and there, but mostly in Palawan” 1
“Tell me about Palawan.”
“...Water in Palawan was scarce as in a desert. The geotech-
nical engineers had surveyed and drilled so many wells to no

avail. The people there was suffering tremendously for that”...
“In Marah, Moses had hit the rock with a stick to get water.
What did you do?”
“There was a priest who dragged a stick around the map
to locate water source. The engineers snickered, considered it a
superstition. In desperation, we’ve sent the drilling team there.
I gathered the nuns and all of the people, asked them to sit in
a circle, looking up to the heaven, and slapping the dirt with
bare hands to beg for the water. The Catholics asked God, and
I taught the non-Catholics to ask the Father of Heaven and the
Mother of Earth to give us water! We kept crying out loud, slap-
ping earth with our bare hands once, twice, twenty times...”
“Like nuts?”
“I don’t know; But being cornered, we had to beg like that;
otherwise, we’d die without water. Finally, we found water at
the site. The engineers were all dumbfounded”...

The Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent De Paul had left Cà Mau
for Cần Thơ at 5:45 p.m. I took a motorcycle taxi straight to Cái
Rắn. So tired, but wondering why I didn’t feel sleepy. The story
of finding water in Palawan must have been haunting me still.
When ones reached the end of the tunnel in life, they either
lay down and die, or struggle to find a way out. When the crick-
ets faced being drowned at the bottom of their holes, they crawl
up even to be caught by the kids. When Nguyễn Phúc Ánh (the
given name of Emperor Gia Long) was chased all the way down to Cái
Rắn and Sông Đốc, he had found his way to Phú Quốc. When
Sister Pascal and the people were dying of thirst at Palawan,
they had cried out like nuts, and finally got their water. And me,
finding myself at the end of the tunnel several times in life, but
still haven’t found my way out yet!
1. There was a woman, with one kid in each hand, walked

wobbly into the church at Cà Mau. I invited her into the parish
house. “Have a seat! Where are you going?”
“I’m from Trà Vinh coming here to panhandle.”
“Where’s your husband?”
“He left for another woman because of my tuberculosis. I
came here to panhandle, but couldn’t get enough to feed my
kids. I gotta sit down to regain my breathing every two hundred
meters. The doctors told me that my tuberculosis is terminal...
Please take my two kids, Father... I’m running out of time”...
“Where do you live now?”
“I panhandle during the day, and sleep at the central market
at night.”
“Is there anybody else there with you?”
“There are three of us and a leper. The man told me, ‘Why
don’t you quit panhandling; You’re too weak for that. People
have been giving me more than I need while you couldn’t even
get enough to eat. Let me take care of you and your kids. I only
ask you for one thing in return–Let me have you once a week’...
I don’t know what to do now; not giving him what he wants,
my kids would starve, but if I do...” She broke down, crying
uncontrollably...
I just emptied my pocket for her, and numbingly stood there
watching her wobbling out with her two kids...
The woman could have been dead by now; and who knew
what happened to her kids...
2. Mr. Hai borrowed me some money for rice planting. I was
waiting for the harvest to see him getting enough to eat, and to
save some. The harvest was devastated that year–salt water had
overflowed into the fields; turning them in to a white sea of use-
less rice blossoms. I gave him one more year to pay. That year,
his daughter got epilepsy. He came to see me, scratching his ear.
“Baptize her, Father, so she can be healed!”
“It’s not that. You have to take her to the hospital!”
“I did. The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with her. I took
her to a shaman way down in Năm Căn; He said it would take an
offering of a pig. Didn’t work. We went to another shaman way
back in U Minh. Another pig. The illness remained unchanged.
“It” wouldn’t let her eat; She’s now so thin and green like a ba-
nana leaf. I’ve spent a few ounces of gold already, and took out
all possible loans, I just gotta let whatever happen happens”...
I introduced him to a rural herbal health clinic in Kien Giang.
A month later, the clinic sent her back. “Any sign of improve-
ment, Mr. Hai?”
“A little bit”...
One day, a nun informed “The girl B. had killed herself”...
“How?”
“Self-strangulation.”
I didn’t know what to say to Mr. and Mrs. Hai for condolenc-
es. Bad luck did come in pairs! Tell him to bravely endure, how
could anyone do in such dire straits? Tell him to pray? How, to
whom, and what for? Mr. Hai didn’t have a religious faith. I felt
completely helpless.

Seven-thirty a.m. Nine nuns were ready at the church’s pier–
Handbags, cameras, notebooks, pens... just like journalists ready
for their missions. The first group went to Kinh Giữa; the second
to Đập Vườn and Kinh Thổ. I follow the second.
The boat was loaded to the brim. The Saigonese nuns were
jittery like rabbits, wouldn’t dare to move, or even talk. They sat
still like a row of combretaceae trees without breeze...
The motorboat pulled over. Mr. Hai of Red Cross had jumped
out first. The nuns and I crawled out after him. The courtyard
was slippery. The leaf-roof house was so humble.
“I’m sorry, what’s your family ranking?
“I’m the third (Ba)”
“You have a disable person in the family, Mr. Ba?”

“A grandson who’s born deformed. His parents had divorced.
He and his mother now live here with us.”
“You’ve been taking care of them both?”
“I got eleven kids, very poor myself, but what else can I do?
Mother a widow, son disable, we gotta take them in.”
“What’s his name?”
“Cu” (literally ‘dick’)
“Um... I mean his legal name!”
“He got only one name: Nguyễn Văn Cu”
He filled the cups of tea. I ran to the front porch to take a
look of the boy named ‘dick.’ The nuns were interviewing, tak-
ing pictures, and taking notes. The boy was ten, but standing
tall as his squatting mother. His head was big and square like
the head of a robot; His dense hair drooped down, covering up
his two narrow, crumpled eyes like those of a baby monkey. His
mouth was involuntarily opened, showing two rows of bare gum
and an unusually thick tongue. Saliva and tears ran incessantly
from his mouth and eyes. One of his arm was wrapping around
his mother’s neck, the other, totally deformed, was dangling
uselessly at his side. His legs bowed at the knees, toes spread
out in disorder.
“Can he speak, sister?” The nun asked softly.
“He could mumble a few words. At birth, Sister Bảy (of Di-
vine Providence, who’s also a nurse) had warned me that he’d have
problem talking.”
“Does he know how to ask for food?”
“He does when he’s hungry, but doesn’t when he needs to
take a dump; just soil himself first before letting us know. I gotta
wash him constantly, and keep an eye on him all day. When I
need to go somewhere, his grandma would watch him...”
The mother went on and on about the daily life of her de-
formed and retarded son. Her face enlivened, her smiles showed
no trace of grief. She hugged her boy ‘Dick the Robot’ lovingly
and tenderly. He was her only hope, and her last one. She would
take care of him ‘til the end of her days, and love him for the rest
of her life... amidst the worst of poverty and hunger...
I silently came back to the boat, visiting the next family, wit-
nessing another, and another life of endless sufferings, only to
have my admiration for the mother of “Dick the Robot” grown
deeper and deeper for the day, and forever...

Today one group went to Bàu Láng, another to Tân Ánh. Mrs.
Tư Quý led the first group. Mr. Red Cross led the second. I fol-
lowed the second to Tân Ánh just for my curiosity.
Many heart-wrenching cases of disability were reported
here. The area was so geographically complex that it took a lo-
cal police to show us our way around, and we had to spend an
hour to locate him. He led us to a tattered house. “This family
got three disables!”
“That many?”
A woman with a rumpled face walked laboriously out on a
walking stick. The nuns surrounded her. Pictures taken, inter-
view given, and notes taken again. I came to chat with the oldest
son. “How old are you?”
“About forty.”
“Can you see anything?”
“No.”
“With arms like that, can you cook or wash clothes?”
“No. Arms totally disabled, feet half-disabled”
“So who does the cooking and cleaning for you?”
“My wife.”
“Uh... you’re married?”
“Last year. This little Lủng is her daughter”
“Where’s she?”
“She went netting fish out there in the fields”
“Your mother can’t see, you can’t see, so only your wife
work to feed this family?”
“No, the number six (younger) brother takes care of his mother,
big brother, sister in law, and the little Lủng. His arms and feet
were also party disabled, but still permit him to scratch by. He’s
cutting grass on the fields. Let me send somebody for him”...
The number six brother dragged himself in from the yard,
soaking wet.
“Can this arm hold the scythe?”
“Yes.”
“Fist fight?”
“Dare not!”
“Why?”
“No match!”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“When will you marry?”
“I’m disable, that would only mess somebody’s life up”...
“What if they love you? What if there’s a girl telling you, Oh
Mr. Number Six, I love you so much! If I can’t be your wife, I’ll
surely die... What would you say to that?”
“Dare not!” he said shyly, gleefully giggling.
I tapped his shoulder goodbye. Somebody whispered.
“Brother Hai’s wife might have leprosy!”
The village police told the boat driver to drop by Thầy Chùa
canal. A woman in her best years running toward us.
“I’ve heard that you have a daughter who’s an amputee?
May I see her?”
“Yến, come out here... the uncle wants to talk to you!”
“How old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Which grade are you in?”
“I’ve quit at the fifth.”
“Could you help your parents with only one arm?”
“She cooks, cleans, everything”... Her mother chimed in,

“When she was four months old, I went to her grandma’s, her
father was fishing in the back, about a field away (~30m). The
sow had climbed up to the bed, pulled her down, and chewed her
hand up. Hearing her cries, her father ran right back in. She was
unconscious. We took her to Cà Mau hospital; The doctor there
amputated her at the join.”
“May I talk to your husband?”
“He died after our second child.”
“Out of sickness?”
“When this boy’s born with no rectum, he hung himself
without leaving a word.”
“So does he have a rectum now?”
“The doctor piped it to the side. For fourteen years, ‘it’
comes out freely.”
“Why didn’t they pipe it down like everyone else’s?”
“They said it would cost a lot. We’re too poor for that!”
“Do you want to find another man to... assist you?”
“Done that! Only to get another child. When I got pregnant,
he left, and now lives at Vĩnh Châu”...
“So look for another one with a good heart, a loving and
caring one.”
“Dare no more”... with a charming smile.
After taking pictures and comforting them, the nuns rolled
up their trousers’ legs, wading in the mud, feeling their way
back to the pier. Ten minutes later, someone revised the state-
ment of Yến-Hợi’s mother (Yến the ‘Pig,’ her nickname, since
she’s born in the Year of the Pig, and had her hand chewed up by
a pig.) “Her mother didn’t tell the truth. Her father was sleeping
on the bed with her. The sow pulled her down, and chewed up
her hand without him waking up!”
“Was he drunk?”
“No one knew!”
“His conscience must have chewed on him. Moreover, the
pain of having his second child born with no rectum must have
driven him into suicide! Poor Yến... so pretty yet amputee! Ear-
lier, when I asked her about her future, she said, What ever!”...
I would not be giving up on her, but for now, I don’t know
what to do for a young girl who has only one arm and a boy who
has no rectum.
8
1
The Vietnamese war had ended rather abruptly with the liberation of Saigon
and the reunification of the country in 1975. For many Vietnamese, however,
the struggle was not yet over. Before, and more right after the war ended in
April of 1975, refugees began to fan out from Vietnam in small wooden boats,
often of questionable sea-worthiness. It is thought that between one and two
million Vietnamese left their homeland in this manner. By some estimates up to
half of these people died at sea, either at the hands of pirates or due to thirst,
starvation, or drowning. Boats ran into storms, capsized, got lost, fell apart.
At that point the law of the sea provided that ships that picked up or res-
cued people in distress at sea were obliged to take responsibility for those
people. Many Vietnamese were picked up by ships from a variety of nations
and delivered back to Southeast Asia. The United Nations High Commission
on Refugees (UNHCR) had by then set up camps for the Vietnamese refugees
in several locations, including two in the Philippines–Palawan and Bataan.
Initially these two camps were set up with the idea of processing refugees for
resettlement in third countries; They were in fact called Refugee Processing
Centers. The understanding was that most of these refugees would be resettled
in the U.S. and had to be “trained” first, especially in English. But some other
nations which had rescued refugees at sea did later accept them and provided
some language training in the camps as well.
The United Nations High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR) set up a first

asylum camp in Palawan on a stretch of land adjacent to the Puerto Princesa
City Airport and the Philippines’ Westcom Armed Forces base. The camp was
opened for twenty years; At its height, there were 8,000 refugees in the camp.
During that time many refugees were resettled in third countries, notably the
U.S., Australia, and Canada.
Eventually the camps all over Southeast Asia were to be closed and the re-
maining refugees repatriated. However, during the presidency of Corazon
Aquino (1986–1992,) no forced repatriation was carried out; but under the
subsequent Ramos presidency, the pressure increased. The refugees immedi-
ately appealed for help to the Center for Assistance to Displaced Persons
(CADP,) which was the social action arm of the Catholic Bishops Conference
of the Philippines, thus the issue went to the very top of the church.
On 12 February 1996, Bishop Ramon C. Arguelles, then Chair of the Epis-

copal Commission for the Pastoral Care of Migrants and heading the CADP,
got a call from Westcom saying that repatriation was imminent. This led to in-
tensive dialoguing between President Ramos and the bishops, and the bishop
were assured that there would be no force used against the refugees. Never-
theless on February 14, Valentine’s Day, a group of Vietnamese refugees were
forcibly repatriated from the camp to Vietnam. This incident was later recalled
by some Filipino teachers with a great deal of emotion, saying the refugees
formed a circle with men in the center and women and children on the outside,
thinking the military would not use force against women and kids. They were
wrong. They later pleaded with their Filipino teachers and media representa-
tives to help them to no avail. However, news clips of the incident were seen
all over the Philippines with the evening news, and the refugees gained a
great deal of sympathy. Thus although the Ramos government was at pains
to explain to the UNHCR in Geneva why the Philippines was unable to carry
out the same sort of violent repatriation which was done in other locations,
the Church had marshaled strong enough public opinion to make such a move
untenable. The UNHCR then asked the Church if it could afford to take over
the support of the camp, but the Church opted instead to work on a plan of
progressive self-reliance for the refugees. With seed money amounting to US
$1.3 million provided by Vietnamese Americans in the United States, CADP
undertook to build a new Vietnamese Village, called Vietville, on the northern
outskirts of the city, in the St. Lourdes/Honda Bay area. When the camp was
finally closed, the remaining refugees moved into Vietville and began working
for their own economic sustenance.
The Chair of the CADP was the Mother Directress of the Daughters of Char-
ity. Bishops Arguelles and Pedro Arigo of the Palawan Vicariate were Board
Members together with Sister Maura and others. Daughters of Charity of Vin-
cent de Paul Le Thi Triu was the administrator (Many Vietnamese-Americans
still remembered her with profound respect and affection.)
When Vietville was first set up, it housed approximately 150 families, provid-
ing its residents with a simple but congenial and healthy life style–There was a
park and children’s playground with various pieces of play equipment, a Cath-
olic chapel, and a Buddhist shrine and temple. (Oscar & Susan Evangelista
- The Vietnamese in Palawan, Philippines: A Study of Local Integration.)
Presently the village is self-governed and observes rules and regulations de-
signed and approved by all participants. Some refugees have taken the op-
portunity afforded by the travel permits and the open camp policy issued by
the Church when a Memorandum of Understanding was signed for business
opportunities on different islands within the Philippines. They are now en-
gaged in various businesses. They make Vietnamese noodle, bean sprouts, and
French bread that they sell in the restaurant they manage and in some outlets
in downtown Puerto Princesa (Elmer Nocheseda - Palawan’s Little Saigon.)
Vietnamese Boat People over South China Sea, 1980
Vietnamese refugees, 1983
8
48. RENOVATION 263
48. RENOVATION
Saigon, March 1, 1999

ODAY I DROPPED BY TO SEE REVEREND T., an elder
priest who’s retired, but still eager to evangelize, still
loves to read and write, and still remains intelligent
and respectable. He asked me. “Where do you come from?”
“I’m from Cần Thơ!”
“Did the Bishop in Cần Thơ allow taking Eucharist in
hand?”
“Yes Father. At my parish in Cái Rắn, we do that one hun-
dred percent!” I proudly announced.
“Since the Church allowed taking Eucharist in hand, the mo-
rality and reverence for the Eucharist has been decreased drasti-
cally. Its adverse effect was immeasurable. Taking Eucharist in
hand was a highly sophisticate scheme to harm Catholicism”...
I tried switching the subject only for him to come right back
to that after a short while. Shaking my hand goodbye, he sol-
emnly advised. “Do not give Eucharist in hand, Father!”
“Goodbye, Father!”
On the motorcycle taxi heading back to the city, I wondered
Why?
Saigon, March 3, 1999

Today I had an appointment with Bishop Mẫn. I was there by
eleven. I insisted on telling him about the “taking Eucharist in
hand” issue... After lunch, I shook his hand goodbye. Only after
sitting firmly on the back of the motorcycle taxi on my way
back, I had realized that I totally forgot bring it up!
Fuming at myself! But, well... not telling, but I’ll keep mus-
ing on it instead!
Saigon, Mar. 4, 1999

I slept for five hours last night, and spent the other two thinking
of the mundane issues of life.
These issues of life were within the issues of faith. I reviewed
the past to analyze today’s issue of taking Eucharist in hand.
1. PASTOR LÝ THÀNH TRUYỀN told a story–There was
an industrial old man in Hòa Thành. He saved up in decades
to build a neat house. He selected a set of columns made of
Melaleuca trees, perfectly straight and beautifully finished.
Those were the results of his sweat and tears; the pride of a
man of hard labor. Those were the worthy inheritance from a
father, and a grandfather to generations to come. With that, he
would rest in peace. But alas, his blind son had failed to see
the value of the shiny-as-lacquered columns set. He bought the
building materials, and have them piled up in the front yard. He
planned for the main house to be built with bricks and mortar.
The house with the perfectly straight Melaleuca columns would
be his detached kitchen in the back. He didn’t care how his father
would think of that. The old man was very unhappy, He didn’t
say a thing. He kept his mouth shut like an oyster; an oyster with
a bomb inside.
The construction workers had been working laboriously, and
drinking festively. The old man kept on walking around, smiling
scathingly. The day the ceramic floor tiles were about to be set,
the bomb went off. The oyster opened up. “Gotta use burned-
clay tiles to keep the feet warm instead!”
“A brick house like this gotta go with ceramic tiles, Dad!”
“Go right ahead, son, and have those ceramic tiles laid for
the dogs to poop on. I will not allow those tiles to be set!”
The building activity came to a screeching halt. The son ran
to the parish house, scratching his head. “Save me, Father! The
ceramic tiles were ready, but my Dad wouldn’t let me have them
set. A house like that wouldn’t go with clay tiles, right Father?”
48. RENOVATION 265
“Let me try. Old people are very conservative.”

The ceramic tiles were finally allowed to be set. Now, in the hot
afternoons, the old man slept soundly on the glossy ceramic tiled
floor, bare chested. No dog had dare to come pooping on it...
2. I WAS A VICE of Parish priest Trần Văn Long at Cần Thơ
parish church for six years. Back then, the Masses were said
facing east. 1 The altar had three steps with two statues of angels
in kneeling position, holding a cluster of lamps, placed on each
side. Thinking that those were out of place, Pastor Long had
them removed and stored in the warehouse. Furthermore, he had
the two angel bas-reliefs on the sanctuary’s background chiseled
out, thinking that they didn’t look right. With that momentum,
he has the whole church repainted.
After all, the church looked much prettier. It did look brighter
and classier, but a silent rage started rising in the parish. The Cần
Thơ parishioners were as gentle as the Hậu River. They did not
protest, but yet murmuring in the background. I had only found
out about that gentle rage in a private talk. “The Parish priest’s
health condition was getting more complicated with both diabe-
tes and hypertension. Medication for diabetes worsened his hy-
pertension; those for hypertension worsened his diabetes... God
must be punishing him for removing the angels!”
3. AN ELDER PRIEST read this story from a newspapers–
There was a church somewhere in Peru that adopted Saint Roc-
co as their Patron Saint–Saint Rocco on a horse. The statue was
painted with very bright colors. With time, the paints peeled off,
leaving a rough and broken finish. The art could no longer carry
the sainthood. In art, lines and forms were primary; colors were
secondary. In a church renovation project, he had the statue of
Saint Rocco repainted. The riding Saint and his horse, beard,
hair, clothes... now all in one single color beige. The Pastor
praised. “This color is so classy! That’s what I call art!”
Who knew... that evening, the parishioners broke out in
riots, surrounded the church, yelling. “Let’s hang the Pastor!...
Repaint Saint Rocco for us exactly like he was!”... Next day, the
Parish priest got an order from the Diocese–Leave the parish
within 24 hours!
4. I CAME TO NĂM CĂN in 1971. In the following year, 1972,
I had a statue of Mother Mary erected in front of the church. The
statue was made of white cement, one-and-a-half meter high.
The pedestal was made of empty rocket boxes. During an un-
usual high tide, the church courtyard was completely flooded.
The turquoise sky was beautifully clear, turning the flood water
surface into a mini ocean. The statue of Mother Mary looked
like a white sail that was magnificently launching forward. She
was like the Queen of Heaven and Earth, and of the Oceans.
Năm Căn Mission Station would follow her to five oceans of the
world... I kept on silently enjoying that ecstasy until one day, an
old woman spoke publicly in front of the station, pouting. “This
priest is so cruel... having Mother Mary standing there all day in
the burning sun... Poor her!”
In 1980, I built a pedestal and erect a statue of Mother at the
church of Bảo Lộc. Mother Mary, again, stood in the open, bear-
ing with the weather. One day, Mrs. Chín Khòm tugged on my
sleeve. “Father, I’ll pay for her umbrella... It’s so pitiful!”
“Don’t pity her. She had to stand in the open like that to be
the Queen of Heaven and Earth!”
“Really?”
Mrs. Tám came back from Hòa Thành, telling me. “The
Mother Mary at Hòa Thành was so ‘numbingly’ beautiful, stand-
ing in a glass showcase. Poor Mother Mary at Bảo Lộc, having
to endure...”
“Oh yeah? Building a glass showcase was easy! But I was
afraid that there wouldn’t be enough oxygen in there. She might
be suffocated, you know!”
“You talk weird, Father!”
5. A NUN TOLD ME. “Adults take Eucharist in hand, kids
should have taken it in the mouth!”
48. RENOVATION 267
“Why?”
“Their hands were so dirty. Playing with sand until time to
come in, then hold the Eucharist like nothing happened!”
“Well, hands are not as dirty as mouths; Mouths are not as
dirty as stomachs. God wouldn’t mind neither, as long as it was
taken solemnly!”
“?!”
8
1
Ad Orientem (facing east) vs. Versus Populum (facing the people): Churches
have traditionally been built facing the rising sun, symbolistically turning
toward the Lord who is to come (eschatology.) In churches not facing geo-
graphical east, the Cross and Tabernacle become “liturgical east.”
Washing in Mekong River, 2008 - Photo of Ferenc Ecseki
8
49. WANDERING 269
49. WANDERING
Cái Keo, 1993

ẠNH, DID YOU BORROW a motorboat for me to go to Đầm
Cùng yet?” – “Mr. Sáu Khôi’s boat was not available,
Father!” –“My goodness!... But that’s okay, I’ll walk!”
“It’s too far to walk, Father!” –“Four kilometer would be just
enough to get my feet tired. Why don’t you go ask someone to
take me to Cái Muối, and I’ll walk from there”...
“Don’t go on foot, Father! What if you step onto a land
mine?”
“Then it would explode!... I had walked this way before,
don’t worry!”
During high tide, Bảy Hạp River surface was as smooth as
a lake. The left bank, so dense with all kinds of mangrove trees,
looked like a vast deep green sea. I walked on the right bank,
where just a few houses and sad looking coconut trees were. If
Death was not hiding around the corner, this scenery would be
heavenly beautiful; Heavenly beautiful, but scary to death.
I was carefully waded through a dense of vegetations when
a voice came out from inside a leaf house with a garden full of
flowers. “Where ya’ goin’, priest?”
“Oh! I am on my way to Đầm Cùng.”
“Why didn’t ya take a boat to save ya’ feet?”
“If I took the boat, I wouldn’t have a chance to meet with
you and talk to you, right? What’s your family order?”
“I’m the fifth (Năm.) Come on in and have a glass’a water!”
That’s how I’ve met another good friend. Mr. Năm was meek
and generous. People gathered at his home every evening. Men
smoked, women munched–The coconuts were there, just go get
‘em! The gooseberries over there, just help yourself! Mr. Năm
promised to lend his house for religious meeting, and for Mass...
Was this ‘the house of Mrs. Mary, the mother of James that God
was going to provide me with?
Sơn Tây, 1990

This morning I took a tour of Hoa Binh Thermoelectric Plant...
Coming back to Kỳ Sơn, we had a flat tire. The driver took it to
the tire repair shop. I ventured out, wandering...
There was a leaf house at the foothill, with a young woman
walking in and out. I approached her, starting a conversation
“Hi, I’m a Southerner, seeing that you got two ‘vú sữa’ trees
(a tropical tree of Sapotaceae family. In Vietnam, it only bears fruits in
the South,) I got kinda homesick. I thought that only Uncle Ho
(Ho Chi Minh) had one, and never knew... Has it ever born any
fruit?”
“My father brought the specimen tree from Hanoi three years
ago, but it hasn’t born any fruit yet!”
The conversation ran out. The silence got heavy. I wanted
to come in, but the young woman didn’t offer. Feeling stuck, I
opened up again. “The two persimmon trees you have over there
are full of fruits; can I buy some?”
“Our persimmon are still too green, not ready to be preserved
yet. Why don’t you walk a little further down over there and buy
them. They have a lot. You can buy all you want!”
“But I want your persimmons. I don’t care for those in the
market!”
The conversation ran out again. The silence got heavy again.
I still wanted to come in, but the young woman still not offering.
Was it that she’s home alone so she had to be cautious, or was it
that she didn’t want to receive a guest in her poor home? What-
ever! I made another attempt. “Young lady, do you have tobacco
water pipe in there?”
“Yes, come in, please!”
49. WANDERING 271
I rolled a little ball of tobacco, stuffed it in to the pipe, and

pulled a deep and noisy draw. That must have waken up a man
who was in a deep snap nearby. He clumsily sat up, scratching
his head, face rumbled like being bothered...
“This is my older brother.”
“Oh hi there! I was dying for a draw, please understand”...
The man smiled, then dragged himself to the table, rolled a
ball, lit it up, then pulled a long one professionally. He flipped
his head back, reeking it off onto the ceiling.
Very good! The host and the guest immediately turned into
buddies in water pipe smoking. The brother smoked a lot, talked
a little. The sister wasn’t smoking, but all talk. She got third
grade education, worked at the paper mill nearby. Her clothes
were crumpled, but her talks very smooth. She got lots of Cath-
olic friends at work, and liked them. “They’re good friends.
There’s no church around here. On holidays, they all went to
Hanoi for Mass...”
Her sharing moved me to tears. The far flung Catholic
workers, living faraway from their parishes, from churches, yet
still lived as testimonials in the midst of non-believers. They
were the yeast. They were the salt. They were preaching the
Word. Suddenly remember the driver back there, I hastily ended
the conversation. “I’m Catholic too! Bye brother, bye young
lady, I gotta go. Oh, by the way, if for anything, would you let
me stay for the night?”
“We’re very poor, but you’ll be welcome if you don’t
mind!”
“No, not at all! I like the poor a lot. God loves the poor too!
Bye-bye, my poor!”...
“I like your religion a lot too. Bye-bye, uncle!”
I found the tire repair shop. Here, in the middle of nowhere,
they could only fix bicycle tires. As for motorcycle’s, the repair-
man had to be innovative. Without a hot press, he could only do
cold patching. “This is only a temporary fix. You gotta go the
ward market and have it hot sealed later.”

“That’s fine! Oh, what did you have taped on the door over
there?”
“That’s Mother Mary!... But I dunno. When I was sent to the
South, saw it, and thought it’s pretty to tape it there.”
He was a “Mường” tribal man, joined the army, sent to ‘lib-
erate’ the South, and brought home a picture of Mother Mary
to tape onto the door carefully, and faithfully proclaimed That’s
Mother Mary!... only to change it immediately to But I dunno...
thought it’s pretty to tape it there...
It’s not that simple. 1
Both of us walked the motorbike to National Route No. 6,
kicked started the engine, then headed for Sơn Tây.
It was aptly named “Kỳ Sơn” (literally Magnificent Mountain.)
The mountains were so impressive. Ranges after ranges. Shapes
constantly changing. The breeze was cool like it was condi-
tioned.
Oh Dalat, 2 you’ve lost 0-1! I wanted to stay here forever to
see and to absorb all of the beauty of Kỳ Sơn. Why there’s no
“Church with a Rooster” 2 here? Why Kỳ Sơn wasn’t even men-
tioned in Vietnamese literature?
When we arrived in Xuân Mai, the tire went flat again. Leav-
ing the bike, I followed the slope to a newly built tile-roof house
with three wings, surrounded by laterite retaining walls. I stood
at the gate, looking out to the tea plantation on the hills afar.
“Who are you looking for, brother?”
“No one. I went for a tour at Hoa Binh Thermoelectric Plant.
On the way home, by bike got a flat tire here. The driver is hav-
ing it repaired. And me... seeing your beautiful house, just stop
to marvel at it for a moment”...
“Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea!”
“Your house is so beautiful, and even have gold-leafed an-
cestral tablets. Your family must have had many talents?”
“We dare not. We are very poor” 3
49. WANDERING 273
“Which religion is yours?”

“I am non-Catholic”
“What’s difference between Catholics and others?”
“Catholics are Christians, and do not worship ancestors.”
“What kind of religion is that? Not obliged to ancestors,
why?”
“I don’t know. But on every memorial anniversary, their
families had gathered.”
“Yeah, they might have prayed for their ancestors though!”
“Yeah, I think so too!”
“Do Catholics and non-Catholics get along well?”
“We get along fine!”
“Is there any church around?”
“There is no church here. On Sunday, they all went to Sơn
Tây for Mass.”
I bid her goodbye, feeling elated.
Not allowing the setting up of ancestor altar was a grave
mistake of the Church, but yet that woman covered it tactfully.
Not having a church locally, but yet the believers here still live
in harmony with others, and go to a church more than ten kilo-
meters away.
The seeds were silently sprouting and growing ...
8
1
It would not be wise to openly proclaim oneself as a Catholic to a stranger in
this region, especially for a former soldier like him.
2
Referring to the Cathedral of Dalat, in Lam Dong Province, that has a rooster
at the peak (decorative tip of a lightning rod?)
3
A statement of modesty.
50. JUST LIKE A JOKE 275
50. JUST LIKE A JOKE
Cà Mau, Feb. 1999

ODAY I WENT TO CÀ MAU. The Dean’s house had sev-
eral guests from Saigon. Happy brothers, happy sis-
ters, and happy talks. Pastor Mười Râu told a story.
Râu was going to see an old bedridden woman who had missed
sixty Easters. He left in the afternoon only to arrive at midnight.
He didn’t bring Eucharist with him, so he just took her Confes-
sion, anointed her, then immediately slipped into his provided
bed and lowered his mosquito net immediately. Suddenly, some-
one shook him up. Opened his eyes, he saw a black nozzle of a
riffle pointing at his face. A chill ran down his spine...
“Hey, priest, get up and drink with us!”
“Um... Just a little bit, all right?”
Râu downed two glasses. Blaming on the long and tiresome
commute, he crawled back to the net. Next morning, he found
another man in his bed, smelling all alcoholic...
Râu set up a table for Mass. During Mass, a man silently put
a glass of cold water on the altar. Surprised, Râu asked. “What’s
that for?” – “For you to quench your ‘fire’! ” – “?!”
So lovely! Unintentional, but not uncaring.
Mười Râu said the guy who put a gun on him just to get
him up to drink, climbed on to his bed to sleep, and brought him
a glass of water in the next morning was Mrs. Tư’s son, a lost
sheep for sixty years. He was not Catholic, but was glad to see a
priest came to say Mass at his home. He thanked Mười Râu, and
said he wished that there will be another one so he can invite the
local authorities to attend.
“Catholics and non-Catholics would understand each other
better!” He said.
Cái Rắn, 1998

I was ready for breakfast when someone came in from Phú Tân.
“Father, my mother just passed away. Will you come for a fu-
neral Mass, please!”
“Who was that?”
“My mother was Mrs. Tám Sét, the mother of Út Hiền, Út
Lành”...
“Ah... I know her. Where’s Father Mười?”
“Father Mười had left for Saigon.”
“Have some sweet rice with me, then we’ll go together!”
The sweet rice vendor gave each of us a fistful of breakfast.
We ate hastily like Jews with their Passover meals in Egypt.
The little motorboat with an outboard 11-hp Honda engine slid
smoothly over the water.
After two-and-a-half hour sitting with our legs crossed on
the grass mat, I wobbled into the house, going straight to the de-
ceased bed. Út Lành, a grown up girl, hugged me tightly, blub-
bering, “Father... do a miracle to revive my mother, please!”...
“Stop it! Let me burn an incense for her first!”
I raised the incense to my forehead, catching a glimpse of
the cameraman coming.
My goodness! If he came only a moment earlier, I would be
permanently embraced by Út Lành forever! Fortune and misfor-
tune, in life, sometimes were just a fraction of a second apart!
Today, I was very lucky...
After Út Lành dutifully let go of me, I thought of the morn-
ing when Mary Magdalene was weeping softly before jumping
to embrace the Lord’s feet, crying “Rabbi!” and the Lord tact-
fully reminded her “Stop it!.. Let’s go see my Brother”...
If there were a paparazzi around, what would he do in that
situation? I really want to know, and I’ll wait for my enlighten-
ment.
Tắc Sậy, June 28, 1997

The nuns just came back from a field trip, being so happy to see
each other again like kids welcoming their mothers back from
the market. Grinning widely, talking incessantly, innocent like
angels... They had hundreds of stories to tell, and hundreds to
listen to. They exchanged precious experiences like they would
with pearls, telling stories that were so funny–
1. THERE WAS a curious mouse that got into a nun’s mosqui-
to net. The nun was terrified of the mouse, yelling “ah! ah!”...
The mouse was terrified of the nun, crying “squeak! squeak!”
Both were equally terrified, jumping up and down in the net! I
thought, Well, that’s what you pay for going to bed unwashed...
But actually, in most parts of Cà Mau, drinkable water and clean
water were a rarity. Staying unwashed was being sensitive to
others’ needs, letting them have the privilege of staying clean.
2. FATHER MƯỜI stepped up from the sampan. The nun, so
starving for Eucharist, poured out to greet him radiantly for the
prospect of having Mass again, but Mười looked rather unhap-
py, nervous, and irritated instead. “Sisters, where’s the TV?”
A nun, naïve as an angel, took him around to the back, show-
ing him a fully enclosed room. “It’s in there, Father!”
“I meant the other kind of TV!” 1
The nun was totally perplexed! Mười had to explain in
length before she finally got it. In the South, people called it a
TV, since once one sits in, only the upper body can be seen, just
like a TV announcer.
3. THERE WAS A NUN who had gone to a field trip once, and
experienced the dismay of the ‘virgin saints’ inside the sloppy
shower stalls of the locals–The leaf walls were up to the shoul-
ders; Doors were simply sheets of flimsy plastic; Roofs open
to the sky... A dragonfly unintentionally flew in, intentionally
landed on a wall... tickling her to death!
The Sister squeezed her brain out for the invention of a por-
table shower stall–Fully enclosed, but yet portable. Wall cover-

ing materials made of vinyl, thin but totally opaque. Framing
materials were locally abundant–bamboo and corkwood every-
where... With that logical thinking, a simple construction, she
had finally come up with a design, and secretly had everything
precut neatly. She packed it all up into a suitcase, then happily
went on another field trip. Upon arrival, she took it out to show
everybody. The pretty shower stall stood in the middle of the ba-
nana orchard. Everyone were awe-inspired. She flushed delight-
fully, more delightful than Mr. Madison with his first brightly lit
light bulb. She ‘cut the ribbon’ herself. The three-dimensional
space was completely private.
All of a sudden, a stupid hog, being chased by a dog, plowed
right into the shower stall, almost collapsed it.
“Oh my God!”...
“Oink! oink!”...
Cái Rắn, February, 27, 1999
The day before yesterday, two nuns from the Warm Nest of Nhật
Hồng had come to Cái Rắn to attend the baptism for Tâm, a
blind girl. Yesterday, giving the little girl a special treatment,
they took her back all the way back home to Bến Bọng. Sister Út
went with them. This afternoon, she’s back, telling a Bến Bọng
story. “The toilet was so low. The front was only ye high, who
would dare to enter?” The Grandmother Sister kept shaking her
head. I incited her. “You should go right ahead, Grandma, or else
you would have to walk all the way to the back yard!”
“No way!”
“No way out instead!”
“!!!”
The Grandmother Sister was 83 years old, been there all
over the country, done that with numerous significant social po-
sitions, only to ended up shaking her head in despair!
The Word had become man, and completely like us, except for
sin. But the people that The Word sent out were willing to live
like the locals–Eat like, live like, being weak like, and at times,
have sinned like them... but alas! fiercely refuse to take a dump
like them. It was that easy, but that difficult, very difficult. Me?
Many times, I had to say “I’d rather die than do it!”
Cultural Assimilation. When would that be?...
1
Semi-open toilet built over a fishpond, officially banned in Vietnam since
1994.
“Can Never Have Enough Smiling Faces”

by Ferenc Ecseki Photography, 2008
8
51. WHERE DID THE WIND COME FROM? 281
51. WHERE DID

THE WIND COME FROM?

HIS MORNING I CAME TO CÀ MAU for my P.O. box.
A letter from Phượng–“My husband and I had com-
mitted to built a schoolhouse for the poor, either an
elementary or a middle school. Please do the planning for us,
Father!” I folded it up, put it in my shirt pocket–close to a heart
that was beaten jubilantly, jumped onto the motorcycle taxi, and
came straight back to Cái Rắn.
It was pouring. Red mud splattered up, soaking and turning
my two trousers legs red with it, and splattered all the way up to
my back... Who cared, as long as I could keep my head dry.
I tucked my head into the back of the driver’s raincoat that
was flapping violently in the wind. I put my nose to his back for
a safe haven. There, no rain drop had reached, but the odor of
his armpit was suffocating. Alas, avoiding a melon rind only to
slip on a coconut shell... In that situation, I could only pray for
an inner light from the Holy Spirit...
Reaching the bridge to Cái Rắn, I dragged myself to the Vil-
lage Committee office. The hall was all wet and slippery. The
Chairman was huddling up in his moldy office. I signaled him.
“Brother Ba, come out here, I got something to tell you. I dare
not come inside–Look at me!” ...
“Where’ve you been getting all muddy like that, Pastor?”
“I just came back from Cà Mau. There’s a sponsor who wants
to give our village a schoolhouse. Do you want it? If you don’t,
I’ll go to the Ward tomorrow and give it to another village”...
“I just came back from there three minutes ago. This year,
we’ll have another teaching staff. I’ve asked for the funding
from the office of finance, but they said no. If you give it to us,
we’ll build it right at Ông Tân Dam”
“You mean you want it, right? Tomorrow I’ll come back to
take a look at the site and have it started right away so that we
may catch up with the new school year... Oh, by the way, don’t
give me any red tape, okay? There’s no need for building plans;
My builders had already learned it by heart; Don’t collect build-
ing tax, since we’re at the far-flung localities, okay? Gotta save
as much as we can. See ya!”
That was how I began an unanticipated work that was di-
rectly involved by the Holy Spirit. He had dragged me along
like he did to Philip during Apostolic Era. The schoolhouse was
built at this time, a wonderful time. This wonder must be carved
into my memory, and for me to enjoy it all by myself...

Today there was an unfamiliar letter–The first one that I’ve got
from Vĩnh Phúc! The writer was a Tầy 1 girl. She wrote–
...You must be surprised of how did I get to know you and now write to you...
There was a tourist group who came to our village in Yên Bái. Based on how
they addressed each other, I guess they were Catholic like us. They visited
my next-door neighbor. When they left, they forgot to take some copies of the
“Catholicism and the Nation Weekly” and a copy of your “An Evangelist
Diary” with them. Reading your diary, I was so thrilled, and started looking
for your address... I got a Catholic friend who never came to Mass. He said
“What for?” Would you please show me how to treat him? Should I continue
to be his friend?...
I wrote back right away. Out of the blue, I’ve got an evangelist
friend from afar, faraway...
Oh my Tầy girl!... Let’s bear witness to the Good News right where you are!
The Holy Spirit is the core of all evangelizing activities. Just pray with Him!

Today I got a thick envelope–a letter from Houston, Texas, by
Mrs. Nguyễn Thị... Finished reading the letter, I was dumb-
founded...
Almost a quarter of a century before, I was lambasted by
men, to the max, days after days 2... Today it’s the women’s turn.
One had to be berated by a woman to understand exactly what
berating means!
She wrote–“You’re so stupid!...” Yes, I was, still am, and
will continue to be a stupid man ‘til the end of my days. She’s
right. That was a much needed reminder. I wanted to send Hous-
ton a loud “Thank You!”
Mrs. Nguyễn continued–“Don’t you ever dream of me kow-
towing to you... I’m not educated enough to rebuke you to your
senses”... You’re right, Mrs. Nguyễn! In this world, no one had
the right to make others kowtow to them. We’re all brothers.
That’s the teaching of Lord Jesus, our Teacher. I have to thank
you again!
The letter of Mrs. Nguyễn was carefully kept as a souvenir;
Her berates must be carved in my heart for contemplation. After
hurricane Linda, my parish had received several new programs
within the Holy Spirit’s evangelizing strategy. I hope, after this
storm of berates, I will receive more new and beautiful flowers.
After carefully put Mrs. Nguyễn’s letter away, I opened one
from Emilie Sitzia, a friend unknown. The more bitter the letter
from Mrs. Nguyễn was, the sweeter the letter of Emilie had
become. Emilie wrote–
My name is Emilie. I am twenty years old. I am currently a literature student

in Paris, and I babysit Antoine after school. I, for many years, have had a fas-
cination for your country–a scenery country with an extremely rich cultural
heritage. Meeting with François Roux and Antoine has been nourishing my
curiosity and my attachment for Vietnam, growing them bigger and stronger
every day...
A French student who was obsessed with Vietnam, and had in-
sisted on traveling to Vietnam, visiting Hanoi, Hue, Saigon, and
Cái Rắn. Scenery of Vietnam is so beautiful! Culture of Vietnam
is so rich!... Loving Hanoi, Hue, and Saigon was no wonder, but
Cái Rắn?
This story had begun five years ago–
Mrs. François Roux came to Vietnam for an adoption. She
adopted Lộc, and renamed him Antoine. She confided. “Antoine
is a bunch of wonderful joy to me and my mother!” She asked
me to find Antoine’s biological parents. It was right here in Cái
Rắn ‘A’ village. And that’s how she came to love Cái Rắn. She
collected for Cái Rắn ten scholarships, $1 million each (~US $100)
a year. In Paris, she hired Emilie to babysit Antoine after school.
Emilie’s love for Vietnam had become up close and personal...
Those occurrences coincidentally connected into a chain of
events... just like having an invisible hand silently assembled the
components of a design that had been there for ages.
Emilie’s letter reminded me of St. Peter in Joppa. Peter was
praying on Simon’s roof. He got a vision telling him to come
preaching at Cornelius’ at Caesarea. He was confused when the
Holy Spirit came upon the non-believers. Coming back to Je-
rusalem, his colleagues took issue with him for mingling with
non-Christians. He explained... to their amaze, of God’s gifts to
the non-believers. Finally, he completely shed his conservative-
ness, and took side with Paul in fighting for the non-believers to
come to Christ without circumcision, and without being required
to observe Moses’ laws. That was a strategic renovation. Peter
played the key role in these chains of events, while he himself
had felt like he was in a trance...
8
1
Vietnam is home to 54 ethnic minority groups, including Tày (also known as
Thổ.) They all have their own cultures and languages. Tày population geo-
graphically divides into Pa dí, Thổ, Ngạn, Phén, Thu Lao, with most speak
Thái-Kadai, and live mainly on the lower mountains of North Vietnam. The
population of Tày comprises roughly 1,5 millions in 2005, representing the
second largest group after Kinh, the mainstream population of Vietnam.
2
By the military security agents during his civil detention.
A Tày girl in Lang Son, Vietnam, 2008
8
52. THE HEAVENLY KINGDOM 287
52. THE HEAVENLY KINGDOM

& FRUITS OF THE GR AY MANGROVE 1
Bến Bọng, June 1975

FELT SO GLOOMY TODAY. In my hands, I had only
two books–“Readings for Advent and Christmas” and
“Prières du Temps Présent.” Read to boring; bored
to writing; then wrote to kill time. But today, time was so ex-
pansive. It just couldn’t be wasted... I dug deep into memory
to bring myself back in time... missing my brethren in the mis-
sion station... missing home... missing my students... the rick-
ety “monkey” bridge... the fiddler crab in my toilet... Oh, they
said that these crabs eat fruits of the gray mangrove, but my
crab ate my wastes instead. His claws took turn to pick, pick
and pick tirelessly... I missed everything... down to the golden
crispy fried banana at the Bus Station to the Western Provinces
and the soprano sale pitching of the little ‘Cinderella’–Who...
wants fried banana... here!... I missed the grilled strips of dry
fish eaten with the steamy white rice at the Main Church of Cần
Thơ... to the point of drooling. Couldn’t help it though...
I walked to the riverbank, put my feet up onto the stump
of a mangrove tree, forlornly... The blue sky was so immense,
forever aloft. A few sheer clouds were unwittingly floating like
zombies across, aimlessly. The river in low tide was rushing
onto the river mouth, heartlessly, mindlessly, not remembering
where it came from...
I felt so lonely! ...
Suddenly, the wind came. The mangrove branches waved,
blustering. Their early fruits plopped into the river, grouped with
other debris in the whirlpools behind the posts of the fish trap,
and vanished into the outpouring current, rushing to the sea.
Unwittingly, I asked myself where were they going? Their fate

was to float aimlessly to the unknown. They might wander up to
Rạch Chèo, then disappeared into the Gulf of Thailand, but they
might also be caught onto the bushes of sea holy (Ô rô) or com-
mon derris (Cóc kèn) somewhere in Bàu Trấu, Đầm Cùng, Mang
Rô, and then having to wrestle with others to survive and grow.
I thought of St. Peter, a man common as the fruits of the
gray mangrove, once floating around in the Mediterranean.
He had gone to Jerusalem to preach, only to be jailed by the
church elders; and later released only to be imprisoned by King
Herod. From prison, he followed an angel out, thinking that he
was having a vision. Coming to Rome, the invaders’ capitol, to
continue preaching the Gospel, he had lived in semi-hiding like
a black rat, here in a cave, there in a slave ghetto. He himself was
a slave. There were times he did not know whether to stay or to
leave, being here or there. He recalled the Master’s prediction–
When you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another
will gird you and take you where you do not want to go–His fate
was preset–Floating aimlessly.
Then I thought of myself. I was also a fruit of the gray man-
grove that has been floating without direction. Where to? Who
knew... My fate was to float aimlessly.
I walked back inside to look for the Master, Peter’s Master,
and my Master...

This morning, the express motorboat went out to pick up Bishop
Mẫn and his entourage at Cái Rắn bridge.
Leaving behind the red and green traffic lights of the big city,
folding up the suffocating agenda of the Archdiocese, the Bish-
op let his soul fly back into the peaceful past of over thirty years
ago. His eyes glued onto each mangrove tree, each mangrove
palm, looking for the popping eyes of the brazen gobi fishes.
He was dreaming of having a slingshot to replay the scene of an

amazing sharpshooter boy growing up along the rivers and the
canals at this end of Vietnam... to no avail! The gobi fishes were
nowhere to be found!.. They were probably extinct on this curvy
canal. Unwillingly, he shifted his soul onto the gray mangrove
trees. It seemed like he was so knowledgeable about them. He
had, in many instances, identified himself with them.
Gray mangroves were a lowly-regarded plants. The home-
makers didn’t care for their wood since it was too tough to split,
and yet giving off more smoke than heat when burned. The car-
penters didn’t care for them either since their knotty grain would
ruin any planer blades... Nobody planted them, but they kept on
spreading like wildfire. Nobody cared to chop them down, so
they just kept on growing and growing wherever they wanted...
Listening to the Bishop’s describing of the gray mangrove,
the Saigonese were as lost as ducks in a thunderstorm. “What’s
the difference between gray mangrove and other mangrove?”
“Look at the lower trunk; Whichever got a lot of aerial roots
pointing upwards like a spike trap, those are the gray man-
groves”... To that, I chimed in, high-spiritedly. “Science called
those “breathing roots,” here, the locals call them “dicks”–Gray
mangrove’s dicks (Cặc Mắm,) cork trees’ dicks (Cặc Bần)... Gray
mangrove trees outgrew cork trees multiple times. Gray man-
grove’s dicks were also more useful than cork trees’ dicks mul-
tiple times. Gray mangrove’s dicks prevent riverbanks eroding,
and hold the silt back. Regardless, the Vietnamese dictionaries
only include explanation of cork trees’ dicks, ignoring the gray
mangrove’s dicks. I had written to the editors complaining about
it, but they flatly turned down my request. The homemakers
didn’t care for their wood; the carpenters didn’t care for them
either. Now, even the Vietnamese Dictionary’s editors didn’t
care for them!”
Oh Gray mangrove, don’t be sad!...
Cái Rắn, February 26, 1999

This morning I took roughly twenty “Daughter of St. Vin-
cent” for a tour to the tip of Cà Mau. Every one of them dragged
their feet in preparation. Taking time was a virtue, at the same
time, one of the women’s bad habits. To minimize the bad habit
side effect, I gave them an order. “We gotta leave early so we
won’t come back too late. We’ll eat on the boat to save time!”
“How far is it, Father?”
“Getting there and back–no less than 200 kilometers!”
“Is it beautiful, Father?”
“It’s beautiful not! Just getting there to see it, to know the Cà
Mau Tip, the ‘Chicken Rear End’ of the country, and to love the
country more than we did before knowing it.”
“What do we have over there?”
“We have a huge billboard, saying “Cà Mau Tip,” and end-
less gray mangrove forests!”
“What did people plant the gray mangroves for?... Are the
gray mangrove fruits edible?”
“Only edible to the fiddler crabs and catfishes, and nobody
planted them. God had planted them to keep the continent, and
take the continent out to the sea.”
“You’re so funny, Father!”
“It’s true! I’ll explain more to you later!”
The motorboat left the church pier at 6:15 a.m. It roared up,
then launched forward like trying to impress the Saigonese. I en-
thusiastically introduced the memorable localities such as Rau
Dừa, Cái Nước, Cống Bà Chủ, Đầm Cùng... But it seemed like
the nuns didn’t pay any attention.; they were silently praying
their rosaries. So, there they’re praying, and here I was, distract-
ing completely. But we went on together.
7:30 a.m., the motorboat reached Đầm Cùng, made a right
turn, then cut across Bay Hap River, and plunged into Kinh Tắc,
Năm Căn.
“Thirteen more kilometers to Năm Căn!”

“Where’s Năm Căn? Where’s Năm Căn?”...
Năm Căn, the first love of St. Vincent’s Daughters. Just
having the name mentioned, their hearts had contracted as if
they were electrocuted. There were still thirteen kilometers to
Năm Căn, but yet they’ve got all excited. Where’s Năm Căn?
Where’s Năm Căn?
In 1972, they had first set foot on Năm Căn at a place now
called Hàng Vịnh. They were the first nuns who came to work
at this far end of the country. They had started their cooking
and tailoring classes to raise the knowledge levels of the future
mothers. They had established kindergartens to nourish the future
generations at the roots. They had opened the free medicine
stations to help the sicks... and they had done all that right in
the middle of an area where mosquitoes were more numerous
than rice hulls 2 and potable water were more expensive than
‘medicinal water.’ 3 The war was raging on back then. Bombs,
cannon shells and flares had lit up the sky nights after nights...
But they were still holding on tightly to Năm Căn, and refused
to leave. Alas!... That first love was a love interrupted. The
cruel fate had torn apart their embraces. They were leaving for
Saigon, but eyes were still turning back to Năm Căn... Their first
love had become a broken one. That broken love was now being
rekindled.
Why ones had to suffer so much just to love?
10:45 a.m., the motorboat reached at Rạch Tàu–11:15, it
pulled over to the Border Patrol station. The guests disembarked,
only to look at a big billboard with three big words–“Cà Mau
Tip,” and endless mangrove forests. Faraway, the Khoai Island
was still visible though the shrouding mist. Some people had
calculated that, a hundred years from now, the gray mangrove
forests will turn Khoai Island into Khoai Mountain.
Departing from the Tip Land, I mentally kept with me the
picture of the gray mangrove fruits. I roughly thought, If Lord
Jesus were preaching Gospel here, He would say–What does the

Kingdom of Heaven look like? It looks like the fruits of the gray
mangrove!
8
1
Avicennia marina, commonly called Gray Mangrove, is one of several man-
grove tree species in Vietnam.
2
An expression describing the ‘clouds’ of mosquitoes that came out from the
mangrove forests right after sunset.
3
In 1972, US $1 equalled VN$78. A 750 ml beer cost about VN$18, or US
$0.24, and 40 liters of rainwater cost VN$150, or US $1.90. “Medicinal wa-
ter” hereby meant “rượu đế,” the sweet rice alcohol.
Cà Mau Tip, the ‘Chicken Rear End’ of the country
and sprouting fruits of

the gray mangrove
8
53. TYPHOON NUMBER FIVE 293
Cà Mau, Nov. 3, 1997

AM ON MY WAY BACK THERE! I heard that the Typhoon
Number Five had ravaged Cà Mau and Bạc Liêu!”
“Please don’t go, Father! There’s no bus going that way!”
“I’ll give it a try!”...
I crawled into the 12-seat van. All passengers were origi-
nally from Cà Mau. The conversations were all around Typhoon
Number Five.
“Calls to Cái Nước didn’t go through!... Don’t know if there
is any house left... My younger brother went out to the sea, don’t
know where he is... Wonder if we can get a river bus to Cái
Nước from Cà Mau or not”...
3:45 p.m., I arrived in Cà Mau. I took a Honda motorcycle
taxi straight to Quản Long church. All doors were tightly shut.
“Hello, Brother Ba... Hello, Dean?”...
No answer. I turned around, going straight for the gate. Sud-
denly, a voice came from inside the church. “Father, Dì Tư’s
here!”
“Where’s the Dean, Dì Tư?”
“He left for Cái Rắn. Heard that one church was gone, one
schoolhouse-of-love was gone. People’s houses–eight out of
ten–were gone... Why don’t you come in for some water!”
“It’s all right, Dì Tư! I gotta leave for Cái Rắn right now!”
Not even bother to come back in, I hurried up to the street,
waved for a motorcycle taxi, shooting straight for Cái Rắn.
Along the national highway, all banana orchards were shred-
ded; An uprooted Saman tree here, a chopped off Melaleuca
row there. Numerous houses had lost their roofs, twisted out of
shapes, or simply collapsed into sad looking heaps...
The motorcycle taxi stopped at Cái Rắn bridge, right at Mrs.

Út’s. The leafed house was partly collapsed, showing a corner
of a wood-plank bed. Nobody’s there. A little farther, the Năm
Tiệm’s, Thu’s couple’s, Nhanh’s couple’s... all partly collapsed,
either front or back. Thu’s house had become nothing but a
pile of rotten leaves. I just stood there, didn’t know what to do.
“Please take my boat, Father!” a motorboat driver begged.
“Is ten grand okay?” (~US $8)
“Yessir!”
The Cái Rắn Canal was curvy, now even more curvy with
fallen treetops and branches all over, partly blocking it up at
every turns. Phú Hưng School got one wing collapsed; Ba Kho-
an’s house turned into a pile of shredded leaves with few rafters
sticking up like some bony arms begging for rescue.
Hà’s wedding rental was totally empty today. Mrs. Sáu Sen
was cleaning up in a house that’s brightly lit by natural light
without a roof.
“All ruined, Bà Sáu?”
“Yeah!!!”...
The motorboat pulled over to the church pier. Totally
devastated! The church’s now a heap of leaves. The parish house
and the schoolhouse-of-love got nothing left but skeletons. The
tamarind tree, the melia, the eucalyptus, even the little tropical
almond tree were all uprooted. There was only one left though–
the unattractive wild mulberry that grew next to the Sisters’
pigsty. I wondered, Where I’m going to sleep tonight?
Luckily, the nuns’ house was left standing, huddling shyly
without the privacy that it got so used to. I walked over, look-
ing for the nuns to learn what happened. Water, debris, broken
furniture were everywhere... There’s someone hovering near the
uprooted tamarind tree. “Where’s the Dean?” I asked.
“He’s visiting the laities in the village.”
“Where’s Dì Chín? Where’s the Seminarian?”
“Dì Chín and the Seminarian went with the Dean.”
“Lots’a house collapsed?”

“Quite a lot! Ba Cảnh’s, Út Đáng’s, Sáu Quý’s, Út Vui’s,
Mười Lợi’s, Huế Tài’s... you name it!”
The evening Mass was said by the Dean right in the tiny liv-
ing room of the Sisters house. There’s a large hole in the leafed
roof. Out there, the sky was beautiful as ever, so immense and
crystal clear. A while ago, after a tour of the devastation, the
Dean had announced. “Houses collapsed, but the people were
still smiling!”
So their spirits had not collapsed yet! Fantastic!

This morning, I went with the Dean to town on his way back to
Cà Mau. I dropped by the post office to send and get mails. The
post office was packed. Was that Vũ Quang Nam over there?–
Hey! Nam!
“Hey, old clergyman!”
“How’s Ao Kho?”
“Ah... The church got damaged a bit, but so many houses
were ruined. I heard that Cây Bốm’s totally devastated–the
schoolhouse-of-love’s gone with most of people’s homes. I’m
gonna place a call to my old man, then I’ll go there to see it for
myself.”
“Cái Rắn was shredded too! Last evening, somebody came
back, saying that the church at Cái Cấm was completely de-
stroyed; The parish house got partly damaged”...
“See ya, old clergyman! It’s my turn to make the call!”
Leaving Vũ Quang Nam, I came back to the church of Quản
Long with a sunken heart. The parish house doors was widely
opened. Mười Râu was sitting in the living room, slumping
down like a statue lousily made out of wet mud.... “Oh Brother
Tám!!! All four of my churches were gone. Myself got a near
miss–I took the motorboat from Kinh Nước Lên to Kinh Ba
right in the midst of the typhoon... and I don’t know to swim”...

“What about people’s houses?”
“Kinh Nước Lên, Đất Mới, Kinh Ba, and Rạch Chèo were
considered total loss with just a few brick-and-mortar houses
left. All of my clothes were soaked. Today, when I was in Cà
Mau, I gotta buy a shirt to wear. I’ve been wearing this pair of
trousers wet since Saturday!”
“Where are your nuns?”
“I sent them all home. No more house for them to stay here!
Last Sunday evening, they were all huddling under the bed. I
held a toddler so her mother could crawl in... not knowing that I
was holding her upside down!...”
After dumping out all terror of the Typhoon Number Five,
his sadness seemed to run out with it, leaving him with a soul
as clear as a cloudless sky. Mười Râu waved his arm, speaking
with a firm voice. “After this event, we gotta find out exactly
what God wanted to tell us!”
“That would be a little too soon, bro! Just keep it in our
heart, and contemplate over time”...
During dinner, I informed the nuns and the seminarian at Cái
Rắn of the disaster that hit Cà Mau region–
SIX CHURCHES had collapsed–Cái Rắn, Cái Cấm, Hòa
Trung, Kinh Ba, Kinh Nước Lên, and Đất Mới.
THE CHURCH AT BẢO LỘC got its roof punctured with too
many holes–and could no longer be used for Mass.
THE CHURCH AT HÒA THÀNH got a few broken roof tiles.
The parish house got a few roof tin sheets peeled off.
THE CHURCH AT TẮC VÂN slightly damaged. The catechism
classroom got the roof partly gone.
HUYỆN SỬ got slightly damaged.
KHÁNH HƯNG, U MINH, AND BÀU SEN–Unknown.
THE CHURCH AT QUẢN LONG lost a few roof tiles. The nuns’
house lost seven roof tin sheets (blown out to the streets and got
taken).

This morning, I called for a Parish Committee meeting.
“How many houses in the parish were gone?”
“About eighty percent. Among the Parish committee mem-
bers’, there were only three lucky enough to stay intact!”
“Just go ahead and built a temporary shelter to live in for
now. The coming Sunday will be the cleaning day for the church
and the parish house.”
Lunch today was more festive than a New Year’s day. Mrs.
Tư Ngoan, a non-Catholic, dropped by to see the nuns, and
brought over two guava fruits as big as the oranges. Full of hu-
man love.
Dì Út was painting while eating. The painting captured a
scene during Typhoon Number Five–The seminarian, his father,
and three nuns were huddling under a bed. Dì Út added the cap-
tion verbally–“Dì Chín’s knees were shaking so hard, hitting
each other click-clacking!”
That’s how the rainbow came after a thunderstorm.
After a disaster, people learned to love each other more.

This morning, the nuns told the story of a pregnant woman who
got due right in the midst of the typhoon. Her house was just
razed down so she had to give birth in a bamboo bush. “Do you
know who was it, Father? That’s the mother of Mẹt, one of our
students!”
“Oh yeah? Let’s name her Linda, or Number Five! Even
Typhoon Number Five or Deluge Number Five would not, and
could not destroy the surviving of mankind.”
8
1 Typhoon Linda, the strongest storm to ravage Vietnam in nearly a century and
described by relief officials as a “huge natural disaster.” On the 2nd of Nov.,
Linda hit the southern tip of Vietnam, the Cà Mau province, causing unprec-
edented havoc with over 435 people were reported killed and 3,660 fishermen
gone missing. Nearly 80,000 houses are reported as destroyed and almost
140,000 as badly damaged. Infrastructure (roads, schools and hospitals) also
suffered heavily and huge swathes of rice paddy were swamped. The hardest
hit provinces were Kien Giang, Cà Mau, Bạc Liêu, Soc Trang, Trà Vinh, Ben
Tre and Vũng Tàu. It was the worst typhoon to strike the area in 100 years.
“The loss of life and craft at sea has been the greatest in living memory,” said
Perry Smith, CWS representative in Hanoi. Damage was estimated at over US
$500 millions.
Typhoon Linda, after sweeping through the Southern

provinces of Vietnam, with Ca Mau marked
8
54. THE DAY AFTER 299
54. THE DAY AFTER
Cà Mau, Nov. 3, 1997

ODAY I CAME TO VISIT THE TYPHOON VICTIMS along
the river banks at Kinh Giữa. It has been four days al-
ready, yet roads were still blocked by trees and branches
all over... Everyone was busy re-erecting their own houses and
houses of others, having no time for cleaning up yards, walk-
ways, or roads. I climbed over a big Eucalyptus trees, jumped
over a smaller ones, bent down under a chopped off Melaleucas.
Suddenly–Ouch! A bee stung my upper arm and quickly disap-
peared. I stopped right on the track, freezing, trying not to make
another wrong move, and to find out exactly where it had come
from. Slowly looking up–a hive, just inches from my head. I
slowly and quietly retreated. Lose a little battle to win a war. I
deeply exhaled in relief, and learned from the experience–
Why did only one attack? Why did they, in such dire situ-
ation, yet keep on going as usual–Dozens were crawling back
and forth on a thumb-size six-sided polygon. Were they all lazy,
irresponsible, or dim-witted? Nope! The surprise attacker was a
soldier, responsible for protecting the hive; Those crawling back
and forth were workers, responsible for rebuilding it... All were
carrying out their own specific tasks in a perfectly organized
society. I was stung for my own mistake. For them, to sting or
not to sting was the wisdom of heaven and earth. I shared that
newly acquired experience with a Typhoon Number Five’s vic-
tim. “Mrs. Bảy... I just got a bee sting!”
“Where did you get it?”
“Right where Ba Tấn’s is!”
“Poor you, Father!”
“Stupid me indeed, poking right into their hive.”
“Why did you say that? They stung you out of their cruel
nature, not because you’re stupid. You can’t be stupid!”
“Yep! The bees were smart, and I was stupid; The Typhoon
Number Five was smart, and we were dumb. Storming was the
law of nature, and we weren’t smart enough to know and pre-
pare ourseves for it!”
Mrs. Bảy was speechless, switching subject. “We three lost
our home. My son Nhơn came back to help for only one day,
and then left to go back to Cái Nước today already”...
Three steps further was Huế Tài’s, Mrs. Bảy’s son-in-law.
Huế Tài was squatting on the roof.
“Hey Tài, drop it; Come down here for a few draws on the
bamboo pipe! You’ve lived without a shelter for the last couple
days already, one more day wouldn’t hurt!”...
Huế Tài climbed down, pulled the pipe out, and lit one up
for me. “Yeah... your tobacco is pretty good! Smoky alright...
Hey Thùy, where did you crawl into during the typhoon? Were
you afraid?” I asked his little girl.
“Very!”
“Oh... you non-believer! Why afraid?”
The little girl smiled shyly. She must have remembered my
sermon about the day the Lord quieted the storm. That day, the
Lord and I displayed a proud banner that read–“Being afraid is...
coward! Being afraid is... lack of faith!”
Huế Tài ranted on. “The old men here kept asking me–In
the North, you guys got typhoons all the times... So what was it
like?–No matter how I had explained, they’d never get it. From
now on, all I gotta say is–That’s what it’s like!–The science of
man were still not there yet! An oncoming typhoon of that mag-
nitude yet was warned of only a few hours in advance... even my
Dad wouldn’t be able to run quick enough”...
Huế Tài always loved philosophy, so I talked philosophy
with him to keep our minds off of the Typhoon Number Five.

Just done with breakfast, and still twisting the toothpick between
my fingers, I heard the sudden roar of a motorboat with an auto-
mobile engine. Reverend Ba Hiến has arrived. Dean Long too.
I ran to the pier “Hello Anh Ba, hello Quản Long! Hey, there’s
even Manu there (The Sister Manager of Divine Providence)!”
“Aunt Mười’s here too!” (the Provincial Superior Mother.)
“Hello Auntie! If you aren’t visiting Cái Rắn, I would have
called you ‘step’ aunt. People said, When father died, go to
(your) uncle; When mother died, suckle (your) aunt. Father, un-
cle, mother, all died; You’re the only one I have left, Auntie!”
“If I weren’t in Vũng Tàu during the typhoon”... smiling
motherly at my teasing, “I would’ve come here earlier!”
“Of course! Cái Rắn is your favorite child, isn’t it?”
“Nah... every communities were supposed to be equal.”
“Nah... You only said that. The poorer ones must have de-
served more love!”
Today Cái Rắn was festive like Tết, and crowded like a car-
nival. The ‘sissy’ Quản Long flattened the metal roofing sheet,
spliced the rafters, re-erected and re-roofed the three-room
house–one classroom-of-love, one of catechism, and one of
tailoring class. The ‘Little Sister of Cái Rắn’ were cleaning up
the collapsed church and re-roofed the parish house. The Dean,
Aunt Mười, Sister Manu, Sister Chín and I took the motorboat
for a tour of Kinh Giữa, Biện Tràng, Kinh Cùng, Kinh Thổ and
Đập Vườn to see for ourselves the sufferings and the disasters
at Cái Rắn.
Within the day, the piles of debris were gone with Ty-
phoon Number Five–to where, I didn’t know. I only knew
that the parish house now has got its warmth back. The class-
rooms were as neat as ever. And love was overwhelming.
Typhoon Number Five had gone, and love had come.
Typhoons come and go, but love come to stay.

Today the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent De Paul arrived from
Saigon. Blue robes, blue robes, and blue robes... The color was
humble as a servant, yet honest and gentle as a peasant girl.
The motorboat roared up like an angry tiger, ploughing into
the river of Gành Hào without pity, but successfully pleased the
guests from Saigon, the dear friends of speed.
Saigon, Cà Mau, Cái Rắn, Cái Nước, Đầm Cùng, Kinh Nước
Lên, Đất Mới, Kinh Ba, Cái Cấm, Cà Mau, Tân Lộc, and back
to Saigon... in three days. Totally exhausted, but the Daughters
of Saint Vincent still haven’t had enough of it. “Are we going to
Năm Căn, Father?”
“Ahh... it’s too far! We’re not gonna make it!”
“Charity of St. Vincent cannot forget Năm Căn. We’ve been
there before. We’ll be back again!”
That’s who they were. They came to Năm Căn since Năm
Căn was as poor as Job. They want to come back to Năm Căn
since Năm Căn now the pilot point where they could reach out
to the poorest ones. They’ve loved Năm Căn ever since. They’ve
been persistent like leeches... and now they’ve turned their love
to the victims of Typhoon Number Five.
Cái Rắn Nov. 14, 1997
I followed the Dean in escorting a volunteer relief group from

Saigon for two consecutive days. Non-stop. Exhausting. The
group consisted of so many factions that I couldn’t remember
them all. “Hey Mười Râu, who’s the woman tall as a Frenchman
over there?”
“That Mrs. Thu, the General Manager of Continental Hotel
in Saigon.”
“Which convent were you from?”
“I’m from Notre-Dame-du-Rosaire at Chí Hòa”
“And you?”
“Domaine de Marie.”
“No, Couvent des Oiseaux!” a Dominican monk chimed in.
“And how about you, uncle?”
“I’m from Xây Dựng parish, and this man is from Vườn
Xoài. We’re are both members of the Unity Group.”
“Ah... and I know you, Sister! You are from Saint Paul Con-
vent. We have lots of memories of your Convent. You were at
number 4, we were at number 6 on Cường Để Boulevard.”
I wondered, if there were no Typhoon Number Five, would
these ‘strangers’ come to this end of Vietnam? If there were no
houses collapsed, would they get to know us, and to love us?
I had lost a church, half of a parish house, half of a school...
but won so much love in return. Was it profitable or loss? Every
time after a horrible disaster, history turned a new page in the
history of an individual, a community... I suddenly recalled what
Mười Râu said on Nov. 4th, 1997–We have to find out what God
wants to tell us through this event!
God must have turned some pages of history...

Today P. P. arrived from Saigon.
P. P. had stunned me many time before–Arms so long, em-
brace so wide, humble like a grassy plant, discrete like darkness
of the night, and silence like an autumn breeze. I had sent P.P. a
fax on Nov. 5th, and got a relief package from P.P., the biggest,
the earliest, but yet the most discrete, most altruistic one of all.
P. P. came from a family of half-Buddhist and half-Catholic;
and may be that’s why P. P. were as merciful as Buddha, and
as altruistic as Lord Jesus. P. P. got to know me incidentally. I
came to meet with P. P. by pure chance. There must be an invis-
ible hand working on connecting the once-thought infinitive gap
between P. P. and me. I wish there were more P. P. in this world
so people would have suffered less, and cries would be not too
sorrowful... During Mass this evening, I prayed a lot for P. P... in
appreciation, in gratefulness, and in return.

Today the Congregation of the Lovers of the Holy Cross and
people from Tân Lập parish came to Cái Rắn. Some said, “Those
used clothes were ironed all night by the Sisters.”
That meant the Typhoon’s victims were not only pitied, but
respected and loved. I joyfully accepted love, but fervently re-
fused pity.
To give is to love. To donate is to pity.

This morning, I came to the Village People Committee’s office
to discuss about the school emergency repairs.
Four schools in the village had been completely destroyed.
More than six hundred students were left unattended like home-
less children. P. P. had sent help with $20 millions (~US $1,500.)
The village government pitched in $7 millions (~US $500.) Hence,
the first one of the four was rebuilt right after the Typhoon. It
would be better and warmer.
The Committee Chairman shared. “Yesterday, there’s a
group of volunteers who came to distribute the relief packages.
The villagers had fought for those so unruly. Some got two or
three, some got none, and all were yelling and cussing. It was
so shameful!”
Well, that’s the rule; Unbalance supply-and-demand would
create chaos. Huge demand and tiny supply had created dilemma.
This rule was not only applicable in the economic field but in
religious and ethical arenas as well.
In 1989, I visited a parish in Phú Thọ Province. The Parish
priest asked me to hear Confession. Once I got inside, the con-
fessional was violently shaken like if it were in an earthquake.

I jumped out to see what’s going on. It was a horrible sight, a
really weird one–
A huge, messy crowd with everyone fighting for priority. In-
side the confessional, there were three people–one in the middle
was ready for confessing; the other two plugged their ears with
their fingers trying not to break the Confessional rules, and at
the same time, ready to fight for the spot of the confessor when
he’s done.
A man scooped up a little boy, set him aside to take his spot,
saying “You’re only a kid, havin’ nothin’ to confess. I haven’t
had Confession for the last ten years”...
So upsetting! But actually, that was simply the basic law
of supply-and-demand. The number of priests for Confession
hearings was too few, while the numbers of faithful who want
to take Confession were so big. There were those who had only
one mass-confession in the last twenty years.
I had yet another deep-seated memory about the law of
supply-and-demand–
At the Cà Mau Bus Station, when the service was scarce,
there was only one tottering bus leaving for Cần Thơ while
there was a passenger crowd like one in a festival. Soldiers, old
men, even pregnant women... were all there, coming in waves
after waves... Out of nowhere, a monk, in his best years, snaked
his way right through the crowd, pushing left and right with no
regard to the elders or pregnant women... to successfully squeeze
himself right onto the bus. He poked his head out of a window,
yelling. “Dì Tám, over here!” He then pulled a nun through
the window, took a two-seater bench, and laughed joyfully and
victoriously...
See! When the demand was so big and the supply was so
little, even a monk or a nun would be ready to lose their disposi-
tion in such an innocent manner!

Today I brought to the village five hundred emergency packages,
each consisted of a bag of old and new clothes mix, a few packs
of instant noodles, and a bag of five kilos of rice. Five townships
had sent their workers to the church to get the packages home to
distribute them among the victims. Only in Cái Rắn ‘A’ town-
ship the packages were distributed right at the church.
When the 73rd package were passed onto the township
Chief, someone yelled from the warehouse. “That’s it!”
“So there were 27 more bags of clothes needed, but we have
several extra bags of rice left. What do we do now, Pastor?” the
Chief asked. I announced. “Now... if any of you agree, take an
extra bag of rice for the bag of clothes; If not, then wait for a
few more days!”
“I need clothes! All of mine were torn or blown off. I don’t
need rice yet. I still have some of unprocessed rice at home!”
“I agree to take two bags of rice instead!”
Suddenly, a child bursted out crying. Turning around, I saw a
boy, about six, sobbing uncontrollably. I asked his mother “Why
he’s crying?”
“He cries because he didn’t get the clothes. He got only these
and they look pretty bad already!”
The kid’s sobs broke my heart. His dream was pathetically
small... but yet it had proved to be unrealistic. Why children had
to suffer like that? I couldn’t hold back tears. Running back to
my room, shutting the door behind me, I’ve cried myself out.
The Typhoon Number Five had pulled the church down,
peeled the parish house’s roof off... but that hadn’t dispirited me.
But today, I was disheartened seeing the women leaving with a
flat, empty bag under their arms, desperately, and sullenly...
The sword-cut wound of the Typhoon was so swift that I
didn’t feel any pain, ‘til now.

Bishop Mẫn had arrived in Cái Rắn yesterday. I told him inad-
vertently “I want to invite you to Cái Rắn so much, but don’t
know if I should.”
“?!”
“I’m afraid there would be a misconception. The villagers
may think that you were there to give them tons of money. They
would encircle you, tug on your robe... and you wouldn’t be able
to find a way out.”
I thought of the image of a mother crane with a bunch of
chicks. Every time the mother flew back to the nest with a piece
of food, all of the chicks opened their mouths widely, chirping
excitedly, anticipating!.. But there would be only one that got
satisfied. The mother would then fly away, leaving the little
mouths there, still wide open, hopefully, and hopelessly...
Meandering on with the Bishop, I came to realize that
Typhoon Number Five had created so many problems...
“There was a woman lamenting to her friend–You Catholics
must have received a warning from Heaven, hence no one had
drowned. On our side, so many perished in the sea!”
“What else?”
“In Duyên Hải, Vũng Tàu, Phước Tỉnh... the faithful who
went out deep sea fishing had come all back for the All Saints’
Day and All Souls’ Day 1 since November 1st, so they all had
cheated death... Also in Cái Rắn, there was a rumor, Heaven
must have loved the nuns more than priests. The priests’ fibro-
cement roofs were heavily damaged, while the nuns’ leafed roofs
were left intact. The two tamarind trees on the corners of their
house felt outward instead of inward onto the house!”...
Have even Typhoon had discriminated? The reason for the
tamarind trees to fall outward was simply because, naturally,
their root systems had grew outward to where the minerals and
the moisture were. The dirt floor inside was dry and acidic; So,
stronger roots outside, weaker ones inside; these two tamarind

trees were good at economics, but not so on defense. But thanks
to that, the Sisters were saved from possible death.
O Typhoon Number Five! You came with no horn blow-
ing, no drum rolling, and left without a word. Why people
talked so much?

“Father! the Bishop’s here!”
“My goodness! We’re not ready yet!”
I ran to the pier in my T-shirt. Someone was helping the
Bishop out of the boat.... “It was raining yesterday, the air was
so damp, my feet has been swollen up and my joints ached” he
lamented. He got just enough time for lunch; a simple, below
average one; right after that, he came back to the boat, heading
straight for Khánh Hưng and Thời Hưng. “I got a little gift for
the villagers. Tomorrow, you go to Cà Mau and pick it up.” He
whispered.
It’s paternal love, yet it was as tactful as maternal. A quiet
love; a secretly giving love.

I was saying Mass this evening when the visitors poured in from
Saigon, from Vườn Xoài. All women, except for a big and tall
one. Mosquitoes came out by the billions, and more persistent
than any water buffalo. They poked through jeans, thick cots
and all. Of course the beauties couldn’t sleep.
This morning, they were all speaking at the same time “Fa-
ther, let us go to see Linda, the one born right when the Typhoon
brought down her house!”
“She lives very far from here!”
“Father, the child and her mother had moved in with her
grandpa nearby!”
“All right! I’ll take you there!”

The women took turn to hold the newborn and compliment
on her cuteness. Gifts were given nonstop; Questions asked con-
tinuously... And tongues stuck out simultaneously, for the child
was the fourth from a mother who still looked like a girl!

More guests arrived this afternoon–The village groups of local
Fatherland Front, 2 Women Association, Civil Administration...
The main topic of discussion was emergency relief. The
sidelines were the complaints–complaints for assistance not re-
ceived, complaints for not sufficiently received, complaints for
not received while others did... What a pain! It’s all because of
the disaster of the century and its consequential sufferings!
The wounds by the Typhoon were still fresh and open, but it
would soon be closed up and healed.
There’ll be rainbow after rain. Just bear with it, and wait.

Students of the theology class Nguyễn Văn Bình came in last
night. It was too dark and too muddy, so this morning, host and
guests got the first chance to see each others’ faces clearly.
Sister Thảo at Nam Kỳ Khởi Nghĩa Blvd. gave me a letter
and a relief package. I have always received such gifts with a
smile from her, thus, expecting a charming smile as usual. Not
today. Hopeless. It seemed like she was deeply disturbed by
something. Was she mad at me, no? Mad at life, perhaps? The
letter bounced up and down in her trembling hand. It read–
December 4th, 1997
Dear Father,
We are a group of young disables... entering life with our limping legs. Af-
ter four years of struggling to live independently and to support ourselves,

making a daily living by tailoring, embroidering, running small businesses,
tutoring... we had saved enough to patch the leaking roof where we reside...
but now, we were told that there was a vast number of people in Hậu Giang
undergoing Typhoon Number Five.
Facing such dire straits, we, the unlucky ones ourselves, wish to share the
grief of others. We wish that there will be more altruistic hearts to pitch in, to
ease the pain of the people of Hậu Giang, helping them to get back on their
feet and rebuild their lives soon.
We hereby sincerely ask you to please forward this amount of $5,000,000

VND–five millions even–all that we have–to them.
We would like to thank you, and wish you a peaceful life.
Respectfully yours,
Nguyễn Thị Mai

Signed on behalf of the young disable group
Finished reading the letter, and looked at the naked five mil-
lion VND (~US $400 in ‘97) laying on the table, I felt heart-strick-
en. Now I knew exactly what bothered Sister Thảo.
The Sisters were Christian Virgins. They have no children
of their own, but their maternal love was immense as Pacific
Ocean. That motherhood have cared for, caressed, and raised
hundreds and thousands of unfortunate children who “entering
life with limping legs.” Saving dime after dime, and still not
having their leaking roof fixed yet... Now suddenly, Typhoon
Number Five arrived. The number of its victims kept raising, in
tens of thousands... The Sisters’ less fortunate children now had
to forget their own misfortune to help alleviating others’.
Misery was staggering, yet meanwhile, there were people
who couldn’t care less, and continued to throw money out of the
window indifferently on trivial pleasures. The mothers’ hearts
were so vast to their children, but too narrow for those with
hearts of stone. Meek like the Sisters, but also resentful and re-
pressively angry like the Sisters, since life was so capricious, so
unfair... and since the Sisters’ children who had a tough enough
life, now going to have it tougher.
Saigon, Dec. 8, 1997
Today I left for Saigon. The letter from Nguyễn Thị Mai was
preciously kept in my book of Roman Missal. After the night
prayer, I read the letter from Nguyễn Thị Mai, the representative
of the young disable group who were limping into life again...
Yesterday, after reading the letter, I saw Sister Thảo being
resentful and repressively angry. Today, reading it again, I
saw Nguyễn Thị Mai being brightly lit like an Olympic torch–
Yesterday, reading this letter, I saw life like the distressful piles
of debris. Today, reading it again, I saw new flowers emerging
from the piles of ruins, giving off their wonderful scent to the
soft, caressing breeze...
Thank you, Nguyễn Thị Mai! Thank all of you, the young-
sters who were entering life with limping legs. Praise to you,
since from here on, you will no longer be limping into life, but
lead it into a smoothly paved road-of-love instead.
Congratulations to you all! Here I’m sending you a bouquet
of new flowers from the piles of ruins...
Saigon, Dec. 9, 1997
I was meandering towards Kỳ Đồng Street, passing by the Hòa

Hưng Railroad Station when a cyclo, jerking to the side to avoid
a little pond on the street, swept my arm. Ouch! The culprit was
a huge grotto that filled up the cyclo...
So Christmas is coming!
The two weeks of Advent had passed, but yet I haven’t
thought of Christmas. My heart and mind were wandering from
relief after relief. A friend asked. “Which theme will you pick
for this Christmas?”
“Not in my brain yet!”
“So how you’re gonna celebrate Christmas this year?”
“Don’t know yet, but for sure there won’t be entertainment.
Our priests and nuns were all so deep in relief, having no time
for the singing and the dancing rehearsals”...
“So you’re gonna forgo Christmas this year?”
“Not forgoing. This Christmas theme will be Humanity–
Building each other’s houses, giving each other gifts of chopped
off cajuput, beheaded hummingbird trees, torn up leaves, shar-
ing cans of rice, with some full, some half... The parish of Cái
Rắn had sent the victims of Typhoon Number Five more than
two thousand relief packages, fifty millions (~US $4,000) in cash,
rebuilt two township schoolhouses, each at twenty millions
(~$1,600). The local government had pitched in seven millions
(~$420) per schoolhouse... and the relief campaign is still going
on... thanks to the generous hearts from everywhere that were
not exhausted yet... That’s our 1997 Christmas, if it’s okay with
you?”
“Thanks to the Lord!”
Wait! Our Christmas of 1997 will have the youngsters who
were entering life with their limping legs too! It would be mag-
nificent!
8
1
Feasts of All Saints and All Souls on November 1st and 2nd each year.
2
The Front is described by the Vietnamese government as “the political base of
people’s power.” It is intended to have a significant role in society, promoting
“national solidarity” and “unity of mind in political and spiritual matters.”
Many of the government’s social programs are conducted through the Front.
Recently, it has been given a role in programs to reduce poverty. The Front is
also responsible for much of the government’s policy on religion, and has the
ability to determine which religious groups will receive official approval.
55. AGAPE: EAT FOR LOVE, EAT TO LOVE 313
AGAPE: 1 EAT FOR LOVE, EAT TO LOVE
Cần Thơ..., 1969

HIS MORNING, the parish priest waved me over, west-
ern-stylishly. “Pio, let me tell you this...” – “What is
it, Ông Chín?” – “We’ll have a dinner party tonight, at
home. You’ll be the host. I’m good in French, but English... You
give it a try, d’accord?”
“Ew! I’m so afraid. Ông Chín speak French like crap through
a goose, and my English was like of a choking chicken!”
“Just give it a try, all right! Here’s my experience – All im-
portant issues were solved over the dinner table!”
His statement had made me think. Perhaps I would remem-
ber that ‘til the end of days – All important matters were solved
over the dinner table!...
It was the first time in my life that I had a western-styled din-
ner with the Westerners and all conversations conducted solely
in Western languages.
Western dishes were bland, and western language speaking
was so arm-tiring. I had to carry that crucifix for almost three
hours; but certainly, the cross bloomed beautifully.
At the beginning, people had raised their glasses intention-
ally, but halfheartedly and mindlessly. However, when the last
glasses were emptying out, the universal love was poring in.
Hosts and guests shook hands passionately. The words of “See
you again!” had turned soulfully warm.
After the last car had left the church gate, the Parish priest
turned around, and shook my hand.
“Bonne nuit, Pio! We’ve made it!”
“Good night, Ông Chín!”...
Đầm Cùng, 1973

Today I took Mother Catherine and Sister Gertrude to visit Mr.
Năm Hiếu. Mr. Năm Hiếu was a well-known figure here. He
insisted to hold the guest back.
“The Pastor, the Mother came to see me, I really appreciate
that, but if we haven’t shared a meal together, then it would be
like we haven’t met yet!”
“So you’re that difficult huh! All right, we give up!”
The main dish was grilled turtles. Mr. Năm pulled the turtle’s
bowel out, broke the intestines into shorter pieces with his fin-
gers, and put the pieces into each guest’s bowl. The two Sisters
looked at me in total distress.
I ignored the signals.
After finishing mine, I encouraged them. “Go ahead and eat
it, Mothers! There’s love in it! If you don’t, Mr. Năm would be
mad at you for the rest of his life!”
Afraid of being mad at by Mr. Năm, the two Sisters hastily
picked up the dangling pieces of intestine with their chopsticks,
put them in their mouths, and silently prayed...
The Lord must have heard their prayers, so they seemed to
be all right...
Mr. Năm was so happy seeing it. He pulled out another one,
broke it into pieces with his fingers again, and put them into his
guests’ bowls, again.
Seeing the two mothers turning green, I jumped to their res-
cue. “Give’m all to me, Mr. Năm! Giving the turtle meat to nuns
was like giving a cherry blossom branch to the owls”...
Dì Ba pressed her palms together. “Thank you, Father!”
The Sisters were shivering all the way home, but so full of
pride–
They have dared to eat for love.
What a memory!
Cà Mau...
Brother Ba Hiến climbed up the stairs, then solemnly announced.
“The rat has been successfully caught! You guys are all invited
to Quản Long to joint us in the celebration feast!”
“Celebrating the catching of a rat?”
“Ah... it’s a just cause for we brethren to meet and share.
We’ve been living an austere life long enough. Gotta share a
meal together from time to time, right?”...
What a lovely idea!
Priests were the lonely kind. Lonely with the superiors,
and lonely with the laities. Looking up the rungs, chances to
have a friendly chat with the Bishops were probably once in a
blue moon. Looking down, chances to find a true friend among
thousands of laities were slim to none. Now, looking sideway,
among colleague priests, if we don’t find a way to get together
over meals, it would be less likely for us to get together to ex-
change and share our apostolic experiences.
Dear rats! Please come by more often so we priests have a
chance to share our meals, and love each other forever...
Saigon, April 8, 1996

I came to Saigon today for a medical re-exam. For that, I had to
come to 36 Tú Xương where my medical records were.
The gate was shut.
Ding dong... ding dong...
“Father!” A grandmother of eighty-three grabbed my hand.
“Come on in, Father, this is our house, no?”
I walked into the dining room.
The meal was almost over. The deserts had begun–Green
mangoes and sugared fish sauce.
Six humongous mangoes. The slices were as big and thick
as buffalo’s tongue. Roughly twenty nuns were eating. Time had
seemed to stand still. Space had seemed to be nil. The superiors
were eating, the subordinates were eating. The bodies were eat-
ing, souls were eating. All were eating at the same speed, with
the same intensity.
Happiness was just that. Heaven was right there.
I said to Sister Camille. “What a wonderful Agape. An ab-
solute equality and fraternity. There’s no difference between
higher and lesser, old and young. Everyone were as one. That
invaluable result was paid for at an unexpectedly low price–the
price of six green mangoes!”
To obtain a common happiness, we, at times, had to work so
hard only to reach to the point of You go your way, and I’ll go
mine! However, ones never knew that, at times, happiness was
waiting right there at the door. The fact of the matter was either
to open it or not!
Similarly, oftentimes, ones had to go through major surger-
ies that costs several ounces of gold each time only to prolong
life as a meager existence in an invalid body–while the whole
thing could have been cured simply with a handful of herbs that
were growing wild right in ones’ own backyards...
Cà Mau....
Today, we got together to share the good, the bad, and the ugly
experiences of our apostolic lives. The first hurdle was almost
always the residence permit. 1 Nevertheless, that impediment
was once dissipated like a thin cloud, thanks to an Agape–a
friendly dinner.
On that day, Tư Vinh took Mười Râu to go ear scratching
for a residence permit. “Mr. Hai, we’ve been living here like for-
ever! You must have known us so well by now... Give Brother
Mười a residence permit, please, Mr. Hai”...
“Hold on! You gotta drink with me first, and I’ll see to it!”
It was getting dark. Tư Vinh looked at Mười Râu. Mười Râu
stared back. To leave or not to leave, that’s the question... but not
empty handed. “All right!” Mười Râu said, signaling Tư Vinh

with an unwilling smile. “Bring up the dishes. Bring the booze
out. We’ll go all the way for brotherly love!”
A gulp here, a bite there... Love grew exponentially. But Tư
Vinh and Mười Râu were willing to play, but not to sway. Both
pretended to be drunk, putting their heads down on the table.
Mr. Hai, the township secretary, helped them to their bed...
But something didn’t seem quite right...
Mr. Hai came back, raising the mosquito net, putting his fin-
gers into Tư Vinh’s and Mười Râu’s armpits, tickling.
“He he...”
“Ahh... You guys weren’t dead yet! Come back out here to
pay for your sin!”
The two deserters clumsily crawled out to pay for their sin.
A while later, the two horses veered back to their worn path. Mr.
Hai was suspecting again, and tickled the armpits again. This
time, nothing. Just heavy breathing...
“Hmm... Now they’re really dead!”
Mr. Hai tucked the mosquito net back in for his guests, with
care and with love...
Next morning, he took out the form, signed it with a stroke
of pen. That’s it. It’s done!
Mười Râu hold dear to that clumsy signature like holding
onto a pot of gold!
8
1
Citizen of Vietnam cannot legally stay in any residence without a residence
permit issued by the local authority, and reporting of their stay at the local
police station.
56. APPENDIX 319
APPENDIX
Evangelizing in Cái Rắn

By Trần Duy Nhiên
‘Cái Rắn’ or ‘Cái Răng’? That’s right! It is Cái Rắn, not Cái Răng.
Cái Răng is in Cần Thơ, and Cái Rắn is a hamlet in the Village of Phú
Hưng, in the Ward of Cái Nước, and in the Province of Cà Mau.
For a longest time, Năm Căn and Cái Nước had become the symbols
of the most far-flung areas in Vietnam, the places that we might have
heard of, but never thought of setting our foot upon.
The Typhoon Number Five had razed down Cà Mau in 1997,

completely destroyed the church and the the parish house of Cái Rắn.
However, ones got to admit that the church had been tattered to the
point that it was considered more of a ‘Stall’ instead of a House of
Worship anyway. But miraculously, a year later, a House of Worship
has been erected on that same spot, a church that was so neat that the
entire region of Cái Nước and Năm Căn have never had anything like
that before. That was like a modern day miracle, one that God had
performed through a man whose name has been familiarized to a lot
of readers: Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau.
But before Typhoon Number Five, there were other typhoons that
have been ravaging this region for the longest time: The Typhoon of
Neglect, the Typhoon of Poverty, and the Typhoon Hunger.
The number of laities in the region was at 501 when Father Hau came to
this region on October 27, 1994, with seventy percent in a half-faithful
status. Being an evangelist, of course, he was eager to preach Good
News to a population of 14,000 strong in the village of Phú Hưng.
People in this village, other than a few who had sawmill or ricemill,
were mostly peasants who live off of the rice fields that were gradually
and consistently invaded by saltwater. Twenty percent were considered

well off, sixty percent were considered poor but still having enough to
eat, and twenty percent were living in dire poverty. Transportation
was mainly by boats and sampans over a complex system of irrigation
canals; but not everyone had a boat or a sampan. On dry land, there
were only dirt roads and pedestrian walkways that were constantly
cut off by irrigation canals and channels crisscrossing all over the
region. Schools were not only lack in numbers, but the existing ones
were not much of a shelter themselves, causing so much hindrance
for the children’s education to be of any quality. The general adults’
education level in Cái Rắn were mostly lower than fifth grade.
In such an evangelization field, Father Hau has been, not preaching

the Good News, but rolling up his sleeves to help care for the people
first instead. With a spirit of one who lives for, lives with, lives like,
and lives by his brothers and sisters, he has wisely combined his
efforts together with various governmental agencies’ to raise the
living standard of the villagers at Phú Hưng Village.
In four year, he has helped build ten concrete bridges at the costs of
10 to 25 millions (~US $1,000 - $2,500) each, drill ninety water wells,
repair three schoolhouses at 20 millions (~US $2,000) each, and build
a brand new school house at 133 millions (~US $13,000.) In the last
few months, he had helped with eight tons of emergency rice for the
hungry, and during last three years, he had helped with more or less
20 tons a year. He has regularly granted 100 scholarships for the poor
students in the elementary school of the village, high schools in Cà
Mau, and even higher schools in Saigon. For the disable children and
the children with cleft lips, he has personally taken them to the clinics
in Saigon for the treatments. His contributions for the welfare of Phú
Hưng villagers has been mounting to billions ($100,000).
He has to be a super-rich man, right? No sir! He has been almost

always absurdly broke, and laughing at it. “God was very funny, ya’
know! He’s always provided barely enough, or just a little less than
enough. Lemme tell you one of many examples––When I ordered the
concrete padding for the church yard, on the day that the works were
56. APPENDIX 321
nearly done, and I was having to cough up 20 millions (~US $2,000)

that I didn’t have, and didn’t even know how to come up with for that.
But when the last pad was put in place–you hear me? The very last
one!–I got the news that someone had sent me 20 millions, exactly the
number that I need for the moment! No more, no less... Oh yeah, it was
a little less–It didn’t include the bus fare for me to go get it!”
And his works have been moving along just like that. The concrete
bridges that he helped built have been built with supports from
various Catholic communities in Saigon, from a few rich individuals,
but mostly from the poorer ones, or, generally speaking, from the most
common people.
On December 24, a delegation including the Chairman of the Ward

Fatherland Front, the Director Doctor of the local hospital, the
Director of the local Red Cross... had came to personally deliver their
Christmas greetings to ‘Brother Tám Hậu’ and gifts for the laities who
were officially classified as ‘at or below poverty level.’ During that
casual event, they conjured up a plan to help cure the poorest sicks in
the village. The village government was to identify families who need
most help, the hospital staff was to provide care, and Father Hau was
to provide the medicines as needed. For that, he had committed 4
millions (~US $400) per quarter. Where the money was going to come
from? “Not a clue!” He said, but “God was very funny...”
In almost thirty years of evangelizing in Cái Nước and Năm Căn,

Father Hau must have learned through his own blood and tears the
divine providence of God. What he wrote in the booklet ‘Let’s be on
the Road’ were not only lessons that he learned from contemplating,
but lessons that he learned in real life through tears and blood of his
heart instead–“Their material needs (those of Jesus and his disciples)
were significant; However, they did not have to live in poverty. The
number of members in their evangelization team had once reached
84, not including Jesus himself and several supporting women. Of
course that we all could imagine how hard it must be for Paul to
manage that; Even if he were laboring days and nights, it wouldn’t be
enough to provide for all of their needs. Besides, he himself travelled
non-stop with the rest, having no time left for any paying job even if he
wanted to. He had to accept the help of Philip’s congregation. When
their boat sank near Malta island, he had nothing left but a shirt on
his back. With that, and no ‘real job,’ he still lived on. When he had
arrived back to Rome, he immediately rented a house for his mission
to continue. All of those expenses had not been paid for by his own
physical labor, but were provided by the people...”
Being an Evangelist, has Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau been helping the
people in that manner to lure people to Christianity, or to march-
in-sync-with-the-nation as instructed by the Letter from the Bishop
Committee of Vietnam? No sir! None of the above! He just did it for the
Good News. “ What I’ve been doing were all for the poor. They need
to live happier, to be more happy, and to live more with dignity. I’ve
been doing it just because we all deserve to live like human. Through
that, if there were blessings for them to receive the Good News or not,
that would be up to God. For me, I have never thought of violating
ones’ freedom of choice in coming to Faith, since if I were out to lure
them, then I would have betrayed my own respect for their dignity.”
With that conviction, Father Hau had, in many cases, refused to accept
people who wanted to be baptized just because they had believed in
him, but not in God. And also, just for that, the number of his faithful
has reached to more or less one thousand, or in other words, only
doubled since he came. Among them, there were 159 adults who were
just baptized in September.
However, please do not assume that Father Hau had just concerned for
people’s dignity only. He has constantly reminded me and my friends
of what Pope John Paul II had reminded us all in the Redemptoris
Missio. “The Church had realized that its direct responsibility was
not for the world to ‘have more,’ but to ‘be more’. The Church had
also realized that the complete development of a person might only be
achieved through the Good News.”
Looking back over thirty years of Father Phuc Hau’s life as an

evangelist, I recall the way leading to Cái Rắn church. The National
56. APPENDIX 323
Highway has reached up to Cà Mau, the Southern-most city of the

country, but it didn’t stop there. Instead, it continues for another fifteen
kilometers of dirt road, and only ends up at an unfinished bridge. The
National Road Number One was finally ended there, but people still
board the motorized sampan to travel further down South for another
five kilometers over myriads of canals and channels to reach to the
boundary of the church of Cái Rắn. But yet, it has been the starting
point for Father Ngo Phuc Hau, from there, to reach out to his
children, to God’s children, to those who never heard of their Father
before. And this Evangelist priest has been following that uncharted
path ever since...
Perhaps that, thanks to his unfortunate loss of hearing (since the deaf
would not be afraid of the loud gunshots,) he could only hear the
urgent call of Good News, a thing that many of us with fully functional
ears may never have been able to hear since we had to hear so many
other noises.
Trần Duy Nhiên

(undated)
8
To Professor Trần Duy Nhiên
By Rev. An Mai, C.Ss.R.
The place where I had a chance to meet with Professor Trần Duy
Nhiên for the first time was a place of love sharing: The Bình Dân
Hospital. After some inquiries, I realized that he was a ‘bosom friend’
of Ông Cố Pio (Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau.)
The thing was, Ông Cố had undergone a major surgery there; Among
the bad news, there was a good one–During the days confining in
the hospital, Ông Cố had his ‘bosom friends’ visited and stayed with
him all day, and everyday. However, the presences of Ông Cố Hoàng
Hôn from the church of Ao Kho in Cà Mau and Professor Trần Duy
Nhiên were different–These three were capitalizing on those special

days to get together as much as they were allowed to (by the hospital
visitation rules) to reminisce their good-old days of evangelizing in
the poorest regions of Cái Rắn and Ao Kho. At noon, everyone came
down to the hospital’s cafeteria for lunch. The warm meals of human
love were brought out promptly. With the surgery wound still fresh,
Ông Cố Hậu asked for a draw on the water pipe afterward. Professor
Nhiên, knowing that his bosom friend would ‘die’ for it, had let Ông
Cố have a ‘ngao’ no matter what! And he didn’t forget to let Ông Cố
have a gulp of beer to cool down after that!
It was not only to the Hospital, but Professor Nhiên had many, many
times travelled all the way to Cái Rắn to share the joy and grief of
Cố Hậu at those far flung evangelical fields. Whenever someone (in
Saigon) wanted to share with the poor, he had volunteered to take
them all the way down to that waterlog end of Vietnam.
That was the first time for me to meet with him, but the dear memory
of that would last forever in my mind.
Professor Nhiên––who was rather small and bony in figure, yet so full
of love. He had not only travelled extensively to Mai Hòa, Cái Rắn,
but people had often seen that small and bony figure bending down
caring for the unfortunates at various leprosariums and orphanages
also. He had been constantly on the road preaching the Good News
of Love until his last breath. With a pen (to write,) and a heart (to
give,) he had gotten his evangelization mission finally accomplished
on February 8, 2009, at 3:15 p.m., leaving this world in the arms of
his love ones at Chợ Rẫy Hospital (in Saigon, Vietnam).
Today, in this evening Mass celebrating in his memory, while praying

for his soul–Francisco Xavier Trần Duy Nhiên–I thought of the words
of St. Paul to the Corinthians. “Yet when I preach the gospel, I cannot
boast, for I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the
gospel! If I preach voluntarily, I have a reward; if not voluntarily, I
am simply discharging the trust committed to me. What then is my
56. APPENDIX 325
reward? Just this: that in preaching the gospel I may offer it free of
charge, and so not make use of my rights in preaching it.”
Yes, Professor Nhiên had preached the Good News voluntarily, and
free of charge, expecting no rewards. He left this world empty handedly
in the eyes of the mortals; But by faith, and by now, he must have been
fully rewarded by God the loving Father as he had always believed,
and as confirmed by St. Paul. “I do all this for the sake of the gospel,
that I may share in its blessings.”
All his life, Professor Trần Duy Nhiên had marched tirelessly with
the Master, preaching the Good News by actually and physically
wrapping the wounds of the injured and caring for the sicks. No way
our Supreme Master would abandon him now.
Professor Trần Duy Nhiên had fulfilled his assignment. We, with our
on-going one, must follow his example, to continue preaching the
Good News of love tirelessly, so someday, we may see him again in
the Heavenly Kingdom.
In loving memory of Professor Trần Duy Nhiên.
Rev. An Mai, C.Ss.R.
Professor Trần Duy Nhiên
8
57. EPILOGUE 327
EPILOGUE
WHAT IS A CO-MISSIONARY?
Jesus appealed to his disciples to reach the lost. This appeal is commonly
referred to as the Great Commission. He wants us to preach the gospel to the
world. Most of us have not been called to walk away from our lives and jobs
to reach lost souls overseas. But God has called some to spend there lives in
far-flung countries teaching and preaching the gospel.
SOME GIVE BY GOING, SOME GO BY GIVING.
You may not be able to go, but you can support those who can. A Co-
Missionary is someone who cannot go, but chooses to sacrificially support
the missionaries who can. They support both spiritually through prayer and
financially through consistent offerings. They are fulfilling the commission
as Co-Missionaries.
CHRISTI PUBLISHING
Christi Publishing will donate all proceeds of this book sales minus printing
and distributing costs to the exemplary Evangelists around the world–like
Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau and the Sisters of Divine Providence–in countries like
Vietnam–where missionary works may still bring adverse consequences.
GIFT OF SUPPORT, IF ANY,

MAY BE SENT DIRECTLY TO
REV. PIO NGO PHUC HAU

PO Box 233, Ca Mau, Vietnam
Email: piohau@gmail.com
BANK ACCOUNT NUMBER:

019.1.37.000131.2 (for USD)
019.1.00.000041.4 (for VND)
VIETCOMBANK CAMAU
04 Lac Long Quan, P. 7
Ca Mau, Vietnam
SWIFT CODE
bftvvnvx019
8
Contacts
FOR THIS BOOK

CHRISTI PUBLISHING
3140 DE LA CRUZ BLVD, SUITE 200
SANTA CLARA, CA 95054
TEL: (408) 988-8275
FAX: (408) 516-9339
Toll Free: 1-888-320-2244
EMAIL: CHRISTIPUBLISHING@GMAIL.COM
FOR THIS BOOK IN VIETNAMESE

PETER CHANH TRAN
6955 SESSIONS DRIVE
SAN JOSE, CA 95119
TEL: (408) 281-8989 - (408) 396-8999
EMAIL: PTRAN5602@YAHOO.COM
FOR THIS BOOK IN FRENCH

VIETNAM FRANCE ECHANGES
59 RUE MONSEIGNEUR ADAM
1400 CAEN, FRANCE
EMAIL: VFE.ASSO@FREE.FR
8
58. CONTACTS 329
58. CONTACTS 331

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Let your light shine before men

in such a way that they may see your good works

and glorify your Father who is in heaven

To Rev. Pio Ngo Phuc Hau

From Christi Publishing

April 22, 2009

© 2009 Christi Publishing. All rights reserved

1. ­ The Parish of Capernaum 11

3. Nam Can Remembered 21

4. Searching for Laborers 27

5. Evangelical Environment Assimilation 33

7. The Gospel of Alms or Gospel of Liberation 43

8. The Beloved Buddha 47

9. Sabbath for The People 53

10. After a Meeting 57

11. Bible Reading 61

12. A Priest of Whom? 67

13. The Monks’ Outfits 71

14. Meandering on Vatican II 75

15. The Praying Pharisee 81

16. Modesty Bears Witness to The Gospel 85

17. Reaching Out To The Poor 91

18. Social Justice 97

19. Civil Development 103

20. Madame Nam 109

21. Ms. Chin 115

22. Women 121

23. Funeral for Mrs. Nam 127

25. Grassroots Communities 135

26. New Year Days in the Life of a Missionary 141

27. Evangelical Anniversary 147

28. Forgiveness 151

29. The Shepherd Whip 157

30. Ancestors Meal Offering 163

31. Fire Dance Superstition? 169

32. The Houses of Worship 173

33. Contemplating Jesus 177

34. My Cai Ran 181

35. Durian 187

36. Cultural Assimilation 191

37. The Voids Unfilled 199

38. Rich and Rags: The Vicious Cycle 203

39. Presence & Proclamation 209

40. On the road 213

41. Cai Ran, Joy and Grief 217

42. Searching for the Lost Ones 221

43. Black Teeth 227

44. Melancholy 233

45. Abstinence and Fasting 239

46. The Unexpected 245

47. At the End of the Tunnel 251

48. Renovation 263

49. Wandering 269

50. Just Like a Joke 275

52. Heavenly Kingdom and Fruits of the Gray Mangrove 289

53. Typhoon Number Five 293

54. The Day After 299

55. Agape: Eat for Love; Eat to Love 313

56. Appendix 319

57. Epilogue 327

58. Contacts 329

Cardinal Jean Baptiste Pham Minh Man

1. THE PARISH OF CAPERNAUM 1

1. The Parish of Capernaum 11