My final trip into Phnom Penh, Cambodia, was a heavy one. After 10 years of living in neighboring Malaysia, it was time to move back to Louisville to spend time with my aging parents, the two people I cared about more than any others on earth.
The last full day in the “Kingdom of Wonder” was a purposely planned Sunday in 2018, so I could attend Mass one final time in my favorite city in all of Southeast Asia.
However, things had been different on this visit. My beautiful, easy-to-walk Phnom Penh had “grown up.” As with much of the new Asia, the gorgeous parks and promenades were now overshadowed by gigantic concrete towers of commerce and condominiums, but one thing had remained unchanged: the Khmer people.
The people of this nation, with its sorrowful past, were still the same smiling, warm-hearted and friendly folks. Phnom Penh and its inhabitants had always moved me and lifted my spirits and my belief in the goodness of humankind, but I awoke this Sunday morning feeling sorry for myself, in a country where an expatriate such as myself had no business feeling so. The serenity I had sought on this rainy day had been lost for some reason and I was thinking that maybe I wouldn’t even get out of bed for Mass as I had planned.
Barely able to recite my morning prayers, I asked one simple request of God: to get me out of bed and get me to 10:30 a.m. Mass on time. God’s will prevailed over mine, and I was soon speeding through the shiny, wet streets in the back of a three-wheeled tuk-tuk. I made it to the small church building of St. Joe’s only to find chapel-size building completely empty. I felt momentarily lost.
Voices quickly overtook the emptiness in my heart, as I heard the start to the opening hymn that day, “We Are Called,” coming from a building across from the church. The words seemed directed at me: “Come, live in the Light. Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord!”
I rushed up the steps and found an auditorium packed with people from all over the world, and I was enveloped in song and smiles and an immediate sense of peace. As with most Masses I have attended in Asia, the room was full and the priest’s vestments were but a small green and white dot far away from where I had taken my seat.
As the priest started his homily it was evident he was American. While his exact words escape me, what he conveyed to all of us that day is that Christ’s presence is omnipresent, the exact message I needed.
After Mass, I wanted to introduce myself to the celebrant, but he was soon surrounded by people. I left in a much better frame of mind and soul, thanks to that Mass and its priest.
It wasn’t until after I moved back to the States that I realized the priest who had help change my heart that morning was none other than Louisville’s own Father Charles Dittmeier. Over the course of reading his “Living Mission” column in The Record, his words describing the work he has done with the Cambodian deaf community and at St. Joseph’s barely scratch the surface of the positive influence he has had on the lives of the Khmer people and others from throughout the world. He is truly a man of God.
Father Dittmeier touched me and changed me that day, though he never knew anything of it. He lifted me closer to God and not just in that moment. Like so many of our religious women and men, his good works have changed more people’s lives than he will ever know.
Thank you, Father Dittmeier, for the light you shone on me that morning. God Bless you and what you to continue to do for all who are blessed to have you in their lives.
Walter Yurt is a member of St. Francis of Assisi Church.
A Time to Speak – Chance encounter brings Christ and a touch of home to Cambodia
My final trip into Phnom Penh, Cambodia, was a heavy one. After 10 years of living in neighboring Malaysia, it was time to move back to Louisville to spend time with my aging parents, the two people I cared about more than any others on earth.
The last full day in the “Kingdom of Wonder” was a purposely planned Sunday in 2018, so I could attend Mass one final time in my favorite city in all of Southeast Asia.
However, things had been different on this visit. My beautiful, easy-to-walk Phnom Penh had “grown up.” As with much of the new Asia, the gorgeous parks and promenades were now overshadowed by gigantic concrete towers of commerce and condominiums, but one thing had remained unchanged: the Khmer people.
The people of this nation, with its sorrowful past, were still the same smiling, warm-hearted and friendly folks. Phnom Penh and its inhabitants had always moved me and lifted my spirits and my belief in the goodness of humankind, but I awoke this Sunday morning feeling sorry for myself, in a country where an expatriate such as myself had no business feeling so. The serenity I had sought on this rainy day had been lost for some reason and I was thinking that maybe I wouldn’t even get out of bed for Mass as I had planned.
Barely able to recite my morning prayers, I asked one simple request of God: to get me out of bed and get me to 10:30 a.m. Mass on time. God’s will prevailed over mine, and I was soon speeding through the shiny, wet streets in the back of a three-wheeled tuk-tuk. I made it to the small church building of St. Joe’s only to find chapel-size building completely empty. I felt momentarily lost.
Voices quickly overtook the emptiness in my heart, as I heard the start to the opening hymn that day, “We Are Called,” coming from a building across from the church. The words seemed directed at me: “Come, live in the Light. Shine with the joy and the love of the Lord!”
I rushed up the steps and found an auditorium packed with people from all over the world, and I was enveloped in song and smiles and an immediate sense of peace. As with most Masses I have attended in Asia, the room was full and the priest’s vestments were but a small green and white dot far away from where I had taken my seat.
As the priest started his homily it was evident he was American. While his exact words escape me, what he conveyed to all of us that day is that Christ’s presence is omnipresent, the exact message I needed.
After Mass, I wanted to introduce myself to the celebrant, but he was soon surrounded by people. I left in a much better frame of mind and soul, thanks to that Mass and its priest.
It wasn’t until after I moved back to the States that I realized the priest who had help change my heart that morning was none other than Louisville’s own Father Charles Dittmeier. Over the course of reading his “Living Mission” column in The Record, his words describing the work he has done with the Cambodian deaf community and at St. Joseph’s barely scratch the surface of the positive influence he has had on the lives of the Khmer people and others from throughout the world. He is truly a man of God.
Father Dittmeier touched me and changed me that day, though he never knew anything of it. He lifted me closer to God and not just in that moment. Like so many of our religious women and men, his good works have changed more people’s lives than he will ever know.
Thank you, Father Dittmeier, for the light you shone on me that morning. God Bless you and what you to continue to do for all who are blessed to have you in their lives.
Walter Yurt is a member of St. Francis of Assisi Church.
Editorial — Success depends on us all