Fr. Dunstan Jones had been a missionary in Papua New Guinea for 44 years. Dying of cancer in his home in the United States, he had wanted to come back to die in his adopted homeland.

The Lord, however, had other plans: he asked him to give up even his beloved spiritual children. So Fr. Dunstan died in Denver, Colorado.

This "house cry," as a traditional day of mourning is called, was one of those providential events one often experiences on a trip such as mine.

I had three intentions in going to Papua New Guinea. I wanted to visit my friend, Fr. Bill Talentino, whom I had not seen in ten years. I wanted to experience one of the newest Catholic Churches in the world—Oceania. (It originated around 1850.) Thirdly, I was giving a retreat to the sixty or so young Papuans who attend the minor seminary where Fr. Bill is rector.

I arrived on Tuesday, June 20, 2006 after many hours on a plane: five from Toronto to Los Angeles, thirteen from L.A. to Brisbane, Australia, three to the capital, Port Moresby, and a final internal flight to Madang, a coastal town.

As soon as I emerged from the airport with Fr. Bill, I had flashbacks of my time in Sri Lanka seventeen years ago. The heat, the flowers, the palm trees, the ocean breeze, and the simplicity and slow movement of people, brought back a flood of memories.

It was a great joy to see Fr. Bill. Though he had never expected to be a missionary and rector, he loves Papua New Guinea and wants to die there.

The theme of my retreat was the Resurrection, which prepared the youths well for the death of Fr. Dunstan, which they heard about a day after the retreat.

Are you aware that there is a relatively new devotion in the Church called the Via Lucis, the Way of Light? Based on the format of the Stations of the Cross, they consist of fourteen Resurrection appearances of the Lord.

I had brought a pamphlet which contained these Stations, and I led the seminarians through them.

I also encouraged them to design these stations for their chapel. These youths are very artistic, and I think they will do this. If so, they’ll have the first Via Lucis in Oceania.

Speaking of their artistry, I was moved no end by their singing. It was soul music—sixty young men with powerful voices, praising the Lord with gusto and spirit in their own traditional rhythms. I brought home with me a recording of the Sunday liturgy, and I encouraged them to make a CD of their singing at the nearby Society of the Divine Word University, which we visited, and which specializes in communications.

Their singing was one of the special expressions of this new Church, which I experienced.

There were others: a young man in tribal dress giving out Holy Communion on Sunday; young postulants coming to visit with professed native Sisters of their congregation; houses of prayer; several new congregations of Sisters; and the abundant presence of missionaries which indicate an early stage of evangelization.

I asked many questions about their Catholic ancestry, which does not go very far back in most of their families—often only to their grandparents, if that.

I realized that in speaking to these "new Christians" I was participating in the formation of the new Church of Oceania. Moreover, it is always exciting for me, as it was in Sri Lanka and India, to go to places where Madonna House is not known at all, or known only by a few, and to plant seeds of our MH spirituality.

So a few days after the retreat, I gave them a talk about saints, Madonna House, Catherine Doherty, and her cause for canonization. To illustrate the process of canonization, I used, as an example, Fr. Dunstan, and how the Capuchins would proceed if they wanted to introduce his cause.

I handed out prayer cards, spoke about MH spirituality, and left several of Catherine’s books for their library.

Several of the men asked, "Does Madonna House take vocations from other countries?" I knew what they were asking: Maybe I have a vocation to Madonna House.

Both to individuals and to the group, I gave the following strong discernment: "I don’t know you at all, but my overwhelming presumption is that the Lord is calling you to be part of this new growth of the Church in Papua New Guinea.

"Whether you are to be a priest or a good Catholic layman, what could be more exciting than to help build this new part of the great Catholic Church in your homeland!"

What a magnificent ideal to which to dedicate one’s life! This is what I tried to convey to these young men.

This new Church has its own example of holiness. In the chapel was a large portrait of Blessed Peter Torot, a young lay catechist, who was killed by the Japanese during the Second World War. John Paul II came to PNG and beatified him.

The Japanese were trying to enforce polygamy, which was not part of the Papuan tradition. Peter continued to preach the Catholic doctrine of marriage, and was martyred for doing so. Like St. John the Baptist he is a martyr for the holiness of marriage.

One fruit of St. Peter’s life is the unusually high number of vocations from his island, New Great Britain. The Capuchins alone have twenty lay brothers from there.

Fr. Bill and I visited the extended family of Alois, one of these lay brothers. The family compound consists of half a dozen homes in the midst of the forest, homes with thatched roofs, earthen floors, and the basic necessities of life. They grow their own food, are sheltered from the weather, and seemed genuinely happy.

Even after a visit of only ten days, I came to understand how one could come to love the Papuans, and to desire with a great desire to dedicate one’s life to helping to nurture them in the life of Christ.

I can see why Fr. Dunstan wanted to die among them, and why Fr. Bill does too.