It was 5:15 a.m. approximately as I stepped out onto the front porch, then onto the lawn facing those great green pali to the south. To the west over Maunaloa hung the full silvery moon, lighting up the landscape and the pali and shimmering on the harbor waters. It was time to prepare for the 5:45 a.m. Mass here at St. Francis Church in Kalaupapa.
I have completed my eighth month here in the land of St. Damien and St. Marianne and I have witnessed many such moons, majestic in the night sky above Kalaupapa, during this time. Although I will not suggest that I’ve been busy all the time during these eight months, I can say that the weeks and months just seem to fly by for me and not just because I have not had to wield a snow shovel this Hawaiian winter.
Life here under the warm subtropical sun, watching the palm trees sway in the trade winds, is of course very different from life back in southeast Massachusetts. So far I have not had any baptisms, weddings or funerals, but I have encountered and greeted many pilgrims from many countries all over the world. Some fly in, others ride the mules down the three-mile trail, while others still “hoof it” down that same steep trail. I know it is steep because I myself hiked it up and down again one morning a couple of months ago.
I have hosted one jovial cardinal, three archbishops, bishops and several priests so far. They come and go but, like old man river, I go on forever. Recently I was told that I am the highest ranking cleric on this peninsula. That makes good sense since I am the only cleric on this peninsula — of any denomination. So I am in effect the shepherd of a motley flock … and I enjoy it. It is good that I am a son of a farmer!
In Kalaupapa, we ordinarily have 10 resident patients, six of whom are Catholic. On Sundays, our 9 a.m. Mass gathers an average congregation of 15. This includes two National Park Service workers, one of whom is Protestant, the other Buddhist. They are great men and have been prominent members of the pilgrimages to Rome for the canonization of our two great saints. On occasion, others from the nearby Congregational Church join us for Sunday Mass … and not just in a blue moon.
I enjoy telling pilgrims that, like Damien, I am a “son of a farmer but have probably been called other things along the line.” I find it rewarding to take guests to Kalawao and St. Philomena Church and to brief them on the story of Damien and Marianne.
I tell the pilgrims that I do not mind where I pass away from this world or where this old body gets placed in the earth, be it here in the Hawaiian Islands, in Massachusetts, or in the west of Ireland, but please, please, do not dig up my body again no matter how many miracles happen in the meantime. Aloha.
Father Killilea is the pastor of St. Francis Parish, Kalaupapa.
