YES, I MEAN YOU

...Hearing the Call

By Fr. Joseph Curcio, S.F.M.
March 2002

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In the heart of Germany, a few weeks before the end of the Second World War, my war buddy and I visited a farm house in search of water. The woman of the house appeared and pointed to the well behind the kitchen. My companion pumped while I remained alert with my large, heavy rifle.

Celebrating Holy Week with the Mushuau Innu Nation of Davis Inlet, Labrador. In 1999 Fr. Joe Curcio joined the Innu people at their camp at Twin Lake, 43 kilometres west of Davis Inlet, for their annual Holy Week gathering.

Within a minute, the woman spoke to my companion in broken English. “Water is falling on your arm,” she said. In my mind her words rang with motherly concern. I stared down the central hall of the house. There, high on the wall at the far end, hung a crucifix.

I turned to look at the woman as my rifle seemed to melt in my hands. She was old enough to be my mother.

During the period of waiting to return to Canada, I had time to consider my future. While in a city of northern Netherlands called Gronigen, in a large church, I knew then that I was called to the priesthood. I saw it as the best way to help others rather than destroy them as in war.

I had a childhood friend in St. Augustine’s Seminary of the Toronto Archdiocese. He encouraged me to join him. My pastor made arrangements for me to be interviewed. That was a few weeks after my return to Canada. It was January 1946.

I was told to look for the dome of the seminary which would be very visible from the road. However, the snowfall had been so heavy that walls of ploughed snow rose to about three metres on either side of the road. As a result, I could not see the dome.

I continued along until I came to an opening leading to a different building. It had a large cross on its peak. I rang the bell and out came a tall, heavy-set old man dressed in a black religious gown. He smiled and greeted me. When I told him I was looking for St. Augustine’s Seminary, he said, “Well, it is just across the field over there. This is China Missions. Here, our boys go to China.”

The man was Monsignor McRae, Superior General of China Mission Seminary. I thanked him and made my way to St. Augustine’s. I thought of the tragedy of the war, my experience of discovering the resting place of St. Theresa of Lisieux in France, passing through the ruins of Lisieux as we raced northward, the joyous response of the people everywhere, the woman in the farm house in Germany, and my decision in Gronigen.

It was during my walk to the seminary that I became aware that I was called to be a missionary priest. I dreamed of going to China. When I finally arrived at the seminary, I had only apologies to offer for troubling them.

I returned to China Missions immediately and made an appointment with the rector, Fr. Pelow, promising to return with the appropriate documents.

Looking back, I can see this progression of events leading me on. Yet, nothing really happened all at once. Rather, things developed gradually.

I see my vocation to the priesthood as a presence among the people to whom I am sent. It is a loving, sharing, helping presence, a Divine presence really, rather than only a matter of doing.

Truly, I can see that the Spirit of Jesus was at work even in my youth. It was and still is for me a journey rather than an arrival, with opportunities to say no in moments of greed or pride.

I heard the call to go forth. Yet, it took some time and a journey of experiences before I finally was able to interpret the words of Jesus: “Go forth into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature!”

Yes, I mean you!

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