Monsignor Camisasca said that “when the Fraternity of St. Charles opened a house in Siberia, it seemed like the point of greatest possible distance. Not only geographically. It was like the tragedy of the human that was experienced there. But that distance is nothing with respect to what is lived in Taiwan: a land that awaits an enormous quantity of water to refresh itself, to come back to life.”
It is a precious observation to begin to approach this small band of priests who, with ups and downs, have taken the helm of two parishes -St. Francis Xavier and St. Paul-and of a few university positions of the Catholic University of Taipei, in the capital of the island.
In this Asian country that China considers its own and that for six thousand years has been waiting for Christ to permeate their culture, speaking with these five priests is above all hearing the stories of individual men, women, adolescents and children encountered and now called by name. Faces, not statistics.
“The young people that I know,” recounts Fr. Emanuele Angiola, who teaches Italian at the Catholic University, “are amazed by the fact that I can remember each of their names.” The light in Fr. Emanuele’s office is always on. The students look, knock and enter. They know that there is someone who is available to listen.
It takes a long time to sow the seeds, but when the flower blooms, it is a miracle
“On Thursday evenings, we have a ‘Radius’ (a discussion group) with about fifteen people, focusing on questions about freedom, desire, the meaning of study and life, and death.” These are questions that are rarely raised here in Taiwan, because they are often considered useless, even within families. Almost none of the participants are Catholic. It takes a long time to sow the seeds, but when the flower blooms, it is a miracle: “Allegra,” continues Don Emanuele, “chose this name for her baptism. It was a journey that lasted about ten years, through both enthusiasm and difficulties. But at the vigil of the movements in St. Peter’s, reading in public an intention of the prayer of the faithful in Chinese, there she was.”
In a country where Catholics make up less than 1% of the population and religious offerings are very diverse, converting to Christ means changing one’s mentality. A little like what happened to the early Christians, St. Paul’s invitation can also be addressed to the faithful in Taiwan: Mè syschematizesthe! (Do not be rigid, inflexible) (Rom 12:2). This is no easy task in a country with a strong sense of identity, where foreigners are still subtly perceived as outsiders to the millennia-old Chinese culture.
Not everyone accepts the challenge, but some try. “Pixie and Domingo,” says Fr. Paolo Costa, “are a young married couple with a one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. Normally here, babies are left with their grandparents or uncles and aunts so that their parents can work and earn as much as possible. It is not uncommon for children to see their families of origin only at the end of compulsory schooling. Pixie and Domingo, on the other hand, after meeting with us, made the opposite choice. Taking full advantage of the legal possibilities and facing heavy salary reductions, first she and then he took six months of leave to be with their baby during her first year of life.”
In Chinese society, physical contact such as hugs or handshakes is avoided. It is not uncommon for Westerners to commit gaffes in this regard. “On the occasion of the feast of our parish of St. Paul,” says parish priest Don Antonio, “three young people were confirmed. En Zhao, one of the three, had been off the radar for some time. Then some of the youth group with Fr. Martino went to look for him. And he, surprised by the gratuitousness of the gesture, returned: ‘The best day of my life,’ he commented. Well, when it came time to receive the sacrament, I was amazed to see En Zhao shake his godfather’s hand resting on his shoulder. A gesture that is normal for us, but absolutely revolutionary for a Chinese person.” A personal encounter, the Christian one, which is expressed through celebrations in the parish, community schools (five throughout the island), charity, but also dinners, songs, and moments of celebration. Forty people participated in the recent CL exercises. In a country that is strongly individualistic but inwardly fragile, the mission of San Carlo is reminiscent of the mustard seed mentioned in the Gospel: small in appearance but with infinite potential.
