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The Way You Hear His Call

In his short story, Joe Durai depicts a mother’s promise to make her son a priest and the young man’s own desires.

By A. Joseph Dorairaj

It was a pious and financially-sound Catholic family. Joshua was a senior manager at Canara Bank and his wife Jacintha was a PG Assistant in Maths in a Government School. Sundar was in his first year UG and his sister Margaret was in Standard XI.

Sitting outside the ICU, Jacintha just completed her fifth rosary for the day. She made it a point to recite at least ten rosaries daily for her husband who suffered a massive heart attack and was fighting for his life. He has been on the ventilator for the last three days and his life was hanging by a slender thread. The chief cardiologist had given up. It was at the family’s insistence that he put him on the ventilator.

It was his third attack. He had his first attack three years ago. He wasn’t aware of it and dismissed it as a cramp. His ECG revealed some abnormality and further tests confirmed that he had suffered a mild attack. A stent was inserted and his condition improved dramatically.

The second attack was severe. He sweated profusely and his jaws and chin were aching acutely. He couldn’t breathe and experienced an unusual heaviness as if a heavy stone was pressing against his chest. He was rushed to the City Heart Centre and was saved because he was brought on time.

His will power and his family’s solid support helped him recover. He adopted a healthy lifestyle and did some yoga as well, and felt a lot better.

But the third attack was life-threatening. His family had given up hope but his wife was steadfast. She recited not less than ten rosaries every day and attended Mass both in the morning and in the evening. She prayed for a miracle. “Lord, please save my husband. In return, I’ll offer my son to your service. May he become a priest and serve your people.”

Joshua was in the hospital for a little more than a month. But eventually he walked out of the hospital on his own. It was a miracle.

Jacintha was grateful and now she had to keep her promise. That night after dinner she told Sundar about her promise. He was furious: “Mom, how can you make a promise on my behalf? You should have consulted me. I’m not interested in becoming a priest. And don’t ever bring up this topic again.”

“Yes, Sundar. I should have consulted you. But I made this promise on your father’s death bed. You know very well that we’d almost lost him.”

“I bargained with God that I would send you to the seminary if he saved my husband.“

“Mom, I have a girl friend and I can’t give her up on any account.”

Jacintha shed a few tears but didn’t say anything. Nor did she bring up that topic again. Since that day, there was an awkward silence between the mother and her son. Both tried to behave normally but the distance between them grew wider with each passing day.

“Lord, let there be a change of heart in my son,” prayed Jacintha.

A week after this incident, Sundar broke this news to his girlfriend. She teased him: “Rev. Fr. Sundar, it looks like we’re not meant for each other. Goodbye.”

He felt miserable and didn’t know how to react.

One evening Joshua coughed blood and was rushed to the ICU. A battery of tests was done and the prognosis was awful. He had multiple complications. This time there was absolutely no hope. Specialists were flown in but they couldn’t pull off a miracle – like last time.

Joshua had a quiet burial three days later.

The family fell apart after his death. There was absolutely no communication between the mother and the son. The daughter, unable to bear the stoic silence at home, preferred to stay at the hostel.

Jacintha looked at her son as if he were responsible for her husband’s death. She held a grudge against him and couldn’t forgive him.

In three years, Sundar finished his BA English. As he was preparing to join the university for his M.A., he asked his mother casually, “Mom, what exactly did you pray for?”

Jacintha was startled. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?”

“Yes. What exactly did you pray for?”

She apologized once again. “Sundar, two years ago when your father suffered his third heart attack, nobody thought he would survive. It was a miracle that he survived and lived for two more years.”

“OK, but tell me what exactly did you pray for?”

“I desperately wanted your father back from the ICU. It was at that moment that I bargained with God that I would send you to the seminary if he saved my husband.”

“So, it was a bargain, not a prayer,” he sniggered.

“Please don’t trivialize it, Sundar.”

“Sorry, Ma.”

After a few days Jacintha got a call from the parish priest. He told her that Sundar met him and wanted to know more about God’s calling and how to join the seminary. She was both shocked and relieved, and prayed to the Holy Spirit to guide her son. Incidentally, their church was dedicated to the Holy Ghost.

When Sundar finished his M.A., he decided to join the diocesan seminary and his parish priest promised to give the vocation promoter a letter. Meanwhile, his classmate, a Jesuit scholastic, took him to his rector who advised him to join the Jesuit novitiate. Since he studied in a Jesuit institution, he knew about St. Ignatius and the Jesuits and that helped him enter the Jesuit novitiate. His mother was thrilled but at the same time had a lot of apprehension. She wondered if she had inadvertently forced her son to enter the Jesuit novitiate. ‘Did I make a bad bargain?’ was her persistent worry.

In the novitiate, Sundar tried to excel in everything. But something was holding him back and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

One evening, his former girlfriend messaged him. “I’m going off to JNU for my doctoral studies. Do you still want to become a priest? Please respond.”

One evening, his former girlfriend messaged him. “I’m going off to JNU for my doctoral studies. Do you still want to become a priest? Please respond.”

He was deeply disturbed and couldn’t sleep for almost two weeks. Then he texted her: “Go ahead. Best wishes.”

It took him more than two months to come out of this traumatic experience.

During his annual retreat in the novitiate, he had a long conversation with his novice master. He told him about his mother’s promise to God and how that impacted his decision to join the novitiate. He told him that he was forced to choose between God and his girlfriend. But he chose God so that his mother could keep her bargain with God.

“Sundar, let us assume that you joined the novitiate for the wrong reasons. But didn’t God intervene and change the course of your journey? I want you to look back and reflect on the milestones that you’ve crossed during the last two years. Meet me next Wednesday.”

He met his novice master the following Wednesday with his diary.

“Did you do the exercise that I recommended?”

“Yes, Father. Here is my diary. To be honest, I was forced to join the novitiate. I wasn’t interested in becoming a priest. In fact, I had a girlfriend.”

“When did you realize that your life was changing track?”

“The month-long summer camp organized by the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS) changed my perspective of life.”

“How did JRS impact you?”

“When I realized that thousands of people all over the world have been uprooted from their native land and are literally on the streets, I was shocked. How sad and inhuman it is! They don’t have a home and identity of their own and live on crumbs thrown at them by the rich capitalist nations.”

There was a pause.

Sundar continued: “The kind of work that JRS is doing is amazing. They are trying their best to give these homeless people an identity and a sense of belonging.”

“Yes, Sundar. No doubt they are doing something commendable. But it’s a tough job.”

“The prospects of working with JRS changed my orientation. Now, I’m convinced that I’ve a mission.”

“But, Sundar, there is no guarantee that you may be assigned to JRS. The provincial and his team may send you on another mission. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Father, I’m ready. But right now, my heart is with JRS and I want to do something for the refugees. In fact, even as a regent I would like to be associated with JRS.”

“I’ll put in a word to the provincial and his team about what you feel so intensely. Let them decide.”

“Father, permit me to share with you something else.”

“Go ahead. I’m listening”

“When I joined the novitiate, I too felt like a refugee. I felt terribly lonely because my mother and sister held me responsible for my father’s death and refused to talk to me. I didn’t have any close friends in whom I could confide. I was faking my vocation and I felt terrible about it. In fact, I had decided to quit on quite a few occasions and join my girlfriend in Delhi but something held me back.”

“That was His call, Sundar.”

Prof. A. Joseph Dorairaj, an Emeritus Professor at Gandhigram Rural Institute, Gandhigram, Tamil Nadu, has assisted several Jesuit colleges in many ways. He can be reached at josephdorairaj@gmail.com.

What we saw and what we have learned

In this interesting feature, thirteen MDU Scholastics describe what they experienced during their summer camps with different groups and the impact they had on them.

Thirteen MDU Scholastics describe what they experienced during their summer camps with different groups and the impact they had on them.

We Went to Serve, We Came Back Transformed

We entered the Homeless Camp at Dream India Network (DIN), Trichy, thinking we were going to serve, but we soon realized that we were there to be formed. Living for ten days with 42 people rescued from streets, railway stations, and public places challenged our understanding of homelessness, dignity, and humanity.

One experience particularly disturbed us. Seeing some residents beaten harshly made us ask: Who is really insane—the person struggling with mental illness, or the one who can beat another human being, violating his dignity? The encounter challenged us to examine how easily we label others while failing to recognize the humanity before us. We began to look beyond labels and encounter the person behind them. Through shared meals, games, conversations, and simple acts of care, barriers slowly disappeared. We learnt that compassion begins with listening, solidarity with presence, and service with humility. It made us question how often we, too, become blind to another’s humanity simply because society has taught us to see a label before a person.

For us as Jesuit scholastics, the camp became an invitation to recognize Christ in those whom society often overlooks. We arrived believing we had something to give. We left, realizing they had much to teach us about resilience, hope, and human dignity.

Schs. Rajaselva & Jenson

When they are so eager to learn….

The Migrants’ Children Camp in Chennai brought us close to children from migrant and Irular communities whose lives are marked by poverty, limited education, and difficult surroundings. Yet what struck us most was their enthusiasm. Despite having so little, they were eager to learn, play, create, and discover. Simple activities like songs, drawing, games, and crafts filled them with joy.

The communication gap made the experience more challenging. Often we couldn’t speak their language, and yet through gestures, expressions, play, patience, and affection, we slowly built bridges. What challenged us even more was reflecting on ourselves: if these children, with so few opportunities and resources, could remain eager to learn, why do we, with all our education, resources, and privileges, sometimes fail to learn, grow, or give our best? Their circumstances could have limited them, but did not define them.

We learnt that education is not merely receiving knowledge but cultivating the desire to grow. As Jesuit scholastics, we were challenged to examine whether our sophistication truly makes us more available, grateful, disciplined, and committed to growth. The children reminded us that formation begins with a willing heart.

Schs. Dinesh, Arul Oli & Arnold

The Deepest Abandonment

During our Summer Camp for Fisherfolks in the coastal villages of Thoothukudi, we encountered abandonment as a lived reality. For fisherfolk, the sea is not romance; it is survival. We met families carrying the weight of poverty, uncertain livelihoods, debt, and children growing up with fathers constantly risking their lives at sea.

One evening, an elderly fisherman repairing his torn net told us, “The sea does not frighten me anymore. What frightens me is returning home and seeing my children hungry.” His words pierced through our romanticized image of the sea and revealed the harsh reality of a man whose greatest fear was not death at sea, but returning home unable to feed his children. We began to see how economic, social, and political structures can quietly abandon people whose labour sustains society. Yet we also witnessed their dignity, resilience, faith, and hope.

Before entering fragile boats, they prayed and entrusted themselves to God. This experience challenged us as Jesuit scholastics to ask: Who are the people we fail to see? We learnt that solidarity begins when we allow another’s struggle to disturb us. Their lives reminded us that justice demands more than charity; it demands presence, advocacy, and action. Perhaps the deepest abandonment is not being seen.

Schs. John Philips & Albert

What we found that night

We went to the Shelter Homes in Chennai, hoping to be of some service. But the people we encountered quietly became our teachers. We witnessed a community that welcomed those without a home with dignity, regardless of their circumstances or the time of arrival. One night, during street outreach, we found a family sleeping outside a shop—a father, mother, two children, and their dog. The simplicity of the scene stayed with us: how easily people can become invisible while the world continues around them.

Another encounter pierced us more deeply. A man asked whether we truly cared for them or had simply come to complete our documentation and leave. His question unsettled us. Even sincere service can reduce persons to cases, numbers, or beneficiaries when we forget the human being before us.

We left asking ourselves: Are we really different from them, except for the circumstances into which we were born? The experience taught us that compassion begins when we stop looking at people as recipients of our service and encounter them as persons. As Jesuit scholastics, we learned that even while serving others, we must allow their lives to question, humble, and transform us.

Schs. Sahayam & Herman

We see the salt, but not the suffering

Some of us went to the salt pans of Thoothukudi, and there we encountered a suffering hidden behind something as ordinary as salt. Under a relentless sun, workers spend hours standing in salt, earning meagre daily wages. They do not have protective equipment, clean water, sanitation, or adequate healthcare. Their bodies bear the cost – burned skin, failing eyesight, dehydration, anemia, wounds, and chronic pain. Women, earning even less, carry the additional weight of sustaining their families. When it rains, obviously there is no work, but the workers keep worrying about their debts.

Now, industrialization is swallowing their salt pans, threatening not only their livelihood but also their land, dignity, and way of life. It took some time for us to grasp the contradiction: the salt that reaches our tables carries the sweat of people whose lives remain invisible to us. We began to ask whether our comfort is built upon suffering we have simply learned not to notice.

As Jesuit scholastics, we were challenged to see what society overlooks, to listen to voices rarely heard, and to let another’s suffering become our concern. We learnt that justice begins not merely with compassion, but with the courage to see, be disturbed, and respond.

Schs. Prasanth & Kalaiselvan

Their struggle for acceptance

We are conditioned from childhood to see the world through binaries. What we experienced during those ten days when we journeyed with transgender communities in Chennai challenged that certainty. Behind every transgender person we met was a story marked by rejection, domestic violence, mental torture, and abandonment.

Their recurring question was, “Why can’t society simply let us be”? That made us see that our discomfort with difference is often greater than our concern for another’s dignity. We witnessed the struggles transgenders go through for acceptance, employment, housing, and even the freedom to exist without being constantly questioned. Meeting both trans women and trans men also revealed different experiences of community and belonging.

Despite the unimaginable struggles the trans persons face, their greatest source of strength is one another. Their struggles unite them. They are happiest when they are with their community. Surprisingly, the trans community has also managed to transcend caste barriers.

As Jesuit scholastics, this journey made us confront how deeply our own assumptions shape the way we see others. We learnt that dignity is not something society grants; it is intrinsic, inherent, and inalienable. This dignity demands respect. And the first step towards respect is just to listen.

Schs. Joshua & Ebi

The depth of their suffering disturbs me

In this interview, Stephen Sinn, SJ, an Australian Jesuit, talks of his life with and for the people on the margins.

says Stephen Sinn, SJ

Stephen (Steve) Sinn, SJ has been a Jesuit for 60 years. After 18 years in the inner city Parish of St Canice’s, Sydney, he established The Bridge Community in Bathurst, to provide accommodation and support for men and women coming out of prison. He presently lives with four of the men in one of the Community houses.

Tell us about your experience of serving lunch every day to street people in your parish that only had a weekend soup kitchen earlier.

I knew that the key to a healthy parish was to follow what Mother Teresa once said: “Put the poor at the centre of the parish and everything else will look after itself.” I do believe that and I tried to do that. I wanted to get to know the street people, to sit at table with them, as friends. I knew they held the key that would lead me and the parish to Jesus. Whenever I was with them I felt close to the gospel. They are the same people Jesus saw when he got out of the boat, “harassed and helpless.” I wonder what Jesus taught them. Their distress would have opened him to his own deep truth, that he and the Father are one. He sat down with them to eat.

Will you share with us about your friendship with Celeste, the woman whom you found sitting on the steps of the church?

When I came to the parish as the assistant priest I was lonely. The Jesuit community was established and I was the newcomer. I didn’t know anyone in the parish. One day I saw Celeste sitting on the steps of the church. I sat down next to her, both of us facing the street. She was swarthy, a week’s growth on her heavily powdered face. She was wearing a schoolgirl’s skirt and had hairy legs. Around her neck was a whistle, the kind umpires blow. It was to keep others away. I sensed an empathy that I had not experienced prior to this. I told her I was lonely and she heard me, she didn’t comment, just heard me. She was the first person I met and we have been friends ever since.

I knew the street people held the key that would lead me and the parish to Jesus.

How do friendships offered by street people help you as a Jesuit priest?

The friendships I have with street people give me heart. They disarm me, disturb me, welcome me, love me. They are my tribe. I come from a different tribe but they have welcomed me as one of them, different but one of them. They disarm my defences: my prejudices, my fears of rejection, of not being good enough. The depth of their suffering disturbs me. I see their ravaged faces, the mental illness, the sores on their feet, their decaying teeth and I feel powerless. I am grateful they open their door and welcome me into their lives and love me.

Tell us about your experience as a part time Scripture teacher in state schools.

I’ve been teaching scripture to children for over 25 years, one weekly class. Many times I’ve felt like resigning, because I’ve felt so inadequate but somehow I hear God calling in the children. It’s a unique privilege to be given time to talk with the children about God. I’ve never met a child – or a street person for that matter – who is not open to God. Their spontaneous faith is inspiring. I ask them to read a gospel story from a bible picture book and to write down a sentence that moved them. It is a beautiful thing to see the eye and the hand of a child working together to form a sentence from the gospel and for them to read it back to the class.

My deepest joy as a Jesuit priest is to recall many a time during the day that Jesus has saved me, that all will be well, that he loves me so much.

What made you think of the Bridge Community – houses for men and women coming out of prison?

I had this vision of living with homeless people, especially those coming out of prison, as nobody is willing to welcome them. I used to see them asleep on the porch of the church and I wanted to sit at the same table with them. I have always felt this to be a calling from God. The Bridge Community is three houses and two units with 12 men and 1 woman at the moment and I live in one of the houses with 4 men. I believe it is God’s work and that God sends the people who need the place. At the moment it’s not an organisation, we rely totally on donations and no one is employed. I’m presently working on how to make The Bridge Community sustainable. The men here are often too much for me and I have to throw myself into the arms of the Lord or light a candle before a battered statue of Mary I have in my room.

What are your joys and challenges in being a Jesuit priest in Australia today?

My deepest joy as a Jesuit priest is to recall many a time during the day that Jesus has saved me, that all will be well, that he loves me so much and that he has won victory over evil and death. In the midst of my trials I have this knowledge that gives me deep joy. The challenges are endless: how can I cope with seeing a child I have grown to love caught between parents who don’t know how to love one another let alone the child? How can I be kind and tough at the same time? How can I live with the anguish of other’s suffering and not be manipulated? Why did I take on so much? I’ve said ‘yes’ to the one who calls me and that means I have to carry my cross with him.

Courtesy: Jivan

Fun, Playfulness and Laughter

In this insightful article, Emmanuel Arockiam, SJ, affirms that we have a right to be happy, and life would be insipid and boring without fun, laughter, jokes and even pranks.

By M.A. Emmanuel Arockiam, SJ

Moments Etched in My Memory: Many decades ago, when I was in a Catholic elementary school, I had two friends who were mischievous, spontaneous and creative. Though I, an introvert, was scared of getting into trouble, I enjoyed their playfulness and endless pranks.

During the recess one day, when all the 1,500 students were under the shade of many trees on campus, my friends called me as they were pointing their fingers at the trees above. They told me, “Emmanuel, pretend to see a monkey above.” And I did. Looking at our eyes and fingers, others curiously asked me, “What are you looking at?” No sooner had I said, “Monkey” than the whole school, including the teachers, started looking for the non-existent monkey. Within minutes, each one had a different version of the story, with all the details of whence the monkey came, and where it went, its size, the varying number of young ones, etc.

The headmaster rang the bell and asked the students to get into their classes, while my friends, looking innocent like doves, were asking one teacher, “Sir, where did the monkey go?”

Even our Beschi College, Dindigul, which housed the retired Jesuits, Juniors and pious Novices, erupted one morning in silent wonder. Some novices had the nerve to tie the clapper of the church bell with a rough cloth so that the bell would not reverberate at five in the morning. After pulling the rope a few times, the scrupulous Brother panicked and ran to ring the electric bell. Something out of the ordinary! We, novices, could not wait till the recreation time to remind one another that it was April Fool’s Day. Fortunately, the novice master, tolerant of this deviance, said, “Go and say ‘sorry’ to Brother!”

The wisdom of real saints would assert that we have a right to be happy, and life would be insipid and boring without fun, laughter, jokes and even pranks.

Joy in Life: Life is not a bed of roses. It has its own heavy demands and consequent stresses. Fulfilling the responsibilities of all our roles may be like carrying the cross daily. However, life is not an endless season of Lent. It’s sad that a few take life tragically and refuse to remove the crown of thorns which they started wearing in childhood or the Novitiate. Some are always hyper alert that the halo they have put on may fall off. All people, including the religious, must be deep down happy.

The wisdom of real saints would assert that we have a right to be happy, and life would be insipid and boring without fun, laughter, jokes and even pranks. Even if the whole world acclaims that someone is holy on account of his/her austerity and devoutness, I would not consider him/her a saint if he/she were not happy. A sad saint is a sorry saint who needs spiritual counseling, since religious life and lack of joy are contradictory in terms.

Reinventing Religious Life: Religious life, known for its rigid routine, grand silence and long hours of spiritual activities, may breed in us a fear of being happy. Some subconsciously believe that a funereal face, stony heart, melancholic tone, and joyless life may correspond to the serious purpose of religious life and path of holiness. Going beyond smiling at social media jokes and reels privately, we can spice our routine community life with not only the presence but also joy of Christ the Bridegroom with a culture of sharing exhilarating funny jokes and hearty laughter.

All that we need is the humility to let our ego-guards down; a little bit of child-like craziness to think differently, an eye for finding funny things and some sort of reckless way of enjoying daily life and ministry. Making others laugh is a skill that avoids a victim stance and biting humor, cynical jokes, sarcastic or derisive laughter, and offensive repartee.

Religious life, known for its rigid routine, grand silence and long hours of spiritual activities, may breed in us a fear of being happy.

Why Fun and Laughter?: The benefits of fun and laughter are many. They are inevitable for a fulfilling life; indispensable for physical and mental health. They keep depression and boredom at bay; drive away the so-called existential angst; protect us with the armor of stress-busters. “Laughing releases dopamine, which may act as a natural, non-pharmacological way to boost brain chemistry, reduce stress, and improve mood. It triggers the release of neurotransmitters, including endorphins, which create feelings of pleasure and relaxation.” We need not be experts in Stand-up Comedy. We can, at least, laugh when we hear a joke.

Joyful Community: The community that indulges in non-hostile humour will be a happy community. It’ll be a learning community if it can perceive the lighter side of life, people’s idiosyncrasies, and whimsical behaviour. Emotionally mature religious will possess a high level of self-esteem to even crack self-deprecatory jokes, recalling their own mistakes and foibles. A joyful community with cheerful social interactions will be psychologically attractive to guests and prospective candidates to the Society.

Courtesy: Jivan

M.A. Emmanuel Arockiam, SJ (MDU) who did his Ph.D. in Counselling Psychology at Marquette University, Milwaukee, U.S., is a senior faculty in the Department of Counselling Psychology at St. Joseph’s College, Trichy, Tamil Nadu.

Constitutional democracy requires Constitutional morality

In this article, Jerald D’Souza, SJ, clarifies that democracy flourishes only when people remain informed, engaged, and willing to hold those in power accountable.

By Jerald D’ Souza, SJ

The three pillars: The three pillars of Indian democracy are the Legislature, the Executive, and the Judiciary. The Legislature consists of elected representatives who enact laws; the Executive implements those laws; and the Judiciary interprets the Constitution and ensures that the other two branches function within its framework. Together, these institutions are intended to keep one another accountable and fulfill the promises made to the people of India.

However, in recent years, these institutions seem to fail in doing what they were meant to do – provide checks and balances. Therefore the democratic structure that citizens often take for granted seems to be getting weaker. Democracy – expressed through liberty, secularism, equality, sovereignty, fraternity, justice, and tolerance – should also shape our social environment and individual conduct.

Not accountable: Elected representatives no longer appear to feel sufficiently accountable to the citizens who elected them. Furthermore, the first-past-the-post electoral system often reduces incentives to represent the interests of all constituents. Political leaders tend to focus primarily on preserving their vote banks rather than addressing the concerns of the entire electorate. As a result, governance risks becoming increasingly partisan, instead of being genuinely representative.

Defections without fresh mandates: The Legislature enjoys considerable authority within India’s constitutional framework. Yet many of the rules governing legislative privileges and accountability are drafted and approved by legislators themselves. This raises legitimate concerns about institutional accountability. It is therefore troubling that elected representatives can, under certain circumstances, switch political parties without seeking a fresh mandate from the electorate. Such defections undermine the spirit of representative democracy. If an elected representative wishes to change political allegiance, it would be more consistent with democratic principles to seek re-election and obtain the consent of the voters.

Right to dissent: The right to dissent is another indispensable feature of democracy. Citizens have the constitutional right to question government policies, organise peaceful protests, and express disagreement. Consider the nationwide student protests following allegations of irregularities in the NEET examination. The protests were largely disciplined and peaceful, marked by solidarity across diverse groups, effective use of social media, inclusivity, and a clear articulation of legitimate demands. The students were exercising both a constitutional right and a democratic responsibility. Yet the response was deeply troubling. What unfolded was not merely an attack on protesting students but, arguably, an assault on the democratic principles that safeguard India from authoritarianism.

Lack of scrutiny: Parliament is intended to be the nation’s foremost forum for debate, deliberation, and dissent. Yet, in recent years, numerous Bills have been passed with minimal discussion or scrutiny. Legislation has often been approved amid disorder in the House, leaving little room for meaningful debate or consideration of dissenting voices. As Derek O’Brien observes in ‘Who Cares About Parliament?’, the average time taken to pass a Bill has reportedly fallen to approximately eighteen minutes. Such haste is deeply troubling for a democracy as large and diverse as India.

If an elected representative wishes to change political allegiance, it would be more consistent with democratic principles to seek re-election and obtain the consent of the voters.

Between 2004 and 2009, nearly 60 per cent of Bills were referred to Parliamentary Standing Committees for detailed examination. Since 2019, however, only around 12 per cent have undergone such scrutiny. Major legislation concerning citizenship, agricultural reforms, and cattle slaughter has been enacted with limited committee review and inadequate public consultation. Whether one agrees or disagrees with the substance of these laws, the legislative process itself should embody transparency, deliberation, and democratic accountability.

Misuse of laws and labels: Beyond the legislature, concerns have also emerged regarding the rule of law. Mob lynchings in the name of cow protection, the selective application of criminal laws, and the use of legislation such as the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) against critics have raised serious questions about equality before the law. Individuals are often branded with labels such as ‘urban Naxal,’ ‘jihadist’ " or ‘rice-bag convert’ – terms that polarise public discourse and undermine reasoned democratic engagement.

Social justice: The welfare of every individual – especially the poorest, most marginalised, and most vulnerable – must remain at the centre of public life. Social justice is not an optional ideal but an essential measure of democratic success.

The role of peaceful protests: Equally important is the recognition that protest is not a threat to democracy but one of its defining features. When fellow citizens take to the streets to oppose injustice or demand accountability, they should not automatically be viewed with suspicion or branded as anti-national. Historically, it is peaceful protests that have expanded rights, challenged discrimination, protected vulnerable communities, and strengthened democratic institutions. A democracy that silences dissent ultimately silences itself.

Participatory decision-making: Decision-making must also become more participatory. Public consultation before the introduction of major policies or development projects should be genuine rather than a procedural formality. Public hearings should enable meaningful dialogue rather than merely satisfy legal requirements. When citizens are invited to participate sincerely, government decisions gain both legitimacy and public trust.

Decentralisation: Decentralised governance remains one of the Constitution’s most significant democratic innovations. Panchayati Raj Institutions and Urban Local Bodies were established to bring governance closer to the people, encourage participation, and make public officials more accountable. Yet these institutions frequently remain constrained by political interference, inadequate financial autonomy, and excessive centralisation. Strengthening local self-government is therefore essential for deepening democracy.

Constitutional morality: Ultimately, no Constitution, however well drafted, can preserve democracy on its own. Institutions are only as strong as the people who sustain them. Dr. B. R. Ambedkar warned that constitutional democracy requires constitutional morality – a culture of respect for the rule of law, equality, and democratic values. That responsibility rests not only with governments but with every citizen.

When India attained Independence, sovereignty passed from colonial rulers to the people. It was ‘We, the People of India’ who gave ourselves the Constitution and established the legislative, executive, and judicial institutions that govern the Republic. The Constitution is therefore not merely a legal document but an expression of the people’s collective aspirations. Its Preamble, Fundamental Rights, and Directive Principles of State Policy together articulate the values that should shape democratic citizenship.

Democracy cannot survive if citizens become passive spectators. It flourishes only when people remain informed, engaged, and willing to hold those in power accountable.

Responsibilities of citizens: The Constitution also places responsibilities upon citizens. It calls upon every Indian to respect the Constitution and its institutions, uphold its ideals, promote harmony, and foster a spirit of fraternity that transcends religious, linguistic, regional, and sectional differences. Citizens are further expected to reject practices that undermine the dignity of women and the equal worth of every human person.

Citizens should not be viewed merely as taxpayers or passive recipients of government programmes. They are active participants in shaping public policy, monitoring government performance, and safeguarding democratic institutions. Genuine democracy transforms the principle of popular sovereignty into lived reality by recognising citizens as partners in governance rather than subjects of the state.

Democracy cannot survive if citizens become passive spectators. It flourishes only when people remain informed, engaged, and willing to hold those in power accountable. Citizenship carries both rights and responsibilities. A citizen is not merely someone who possesses legal status or exercises the right to vote every five years. True citizenship requires active participation in public affairs and a willingness to defend constitutional values. When citizens fail to question injustice or demand accountability, they unintentionally enable the erosion of democratic institutions.

Jerald D’Souza, SJ (KAR) serves as the Secretary of the Social Justice and Ecology Secretariat in Delhi. He is actively engaged in issues concerning human rights and nation-building.

“If that is what makes you happy…”

In this exclusive interview, Errol Fernandes, SJ, talks about his call to be a Jesuit and to take Scripture to millions of readers.

– Interview with Errol Fernandes, SJ,

whose ‘A Jesuit’s Blog’ earned 10 million views recently

Congratulations, Fr Errol! What are your feelings on this occasion?

I thank God for his graces, and am delighted to be able to make a contribution to the lives of people even if in a small way.

What exactly made you give up a lucrative career in the corporate world and join the Jesuits?

I was in a Jesuit Parish (St Anne’s Parish, Mazagaon, Mumbai) and a Jesuit School (St Mary’s SSC) and Jesuits like Fr Ribes and Fr Beech influenced me in a very big way. Fr Ribes was my mentor in many ways and I learned so much from him. While I knew that eventually I would want to dedicate my life to God in the Society of Jesus, I also knew that it would be after I had done what I had planned to do with my life before making that decision. This plan was to first graduate and work for some years. I was blessed to get a job in Bahrain as an accountant for a computer company. In those days, getting a job in any part of the Gulf meant that your future was secure. There was big money, there were luxuries and what have you. After reaching Bahrain, I became attached to the life there and for some time “forgot” that I wanted to be a Jesuit.

How did your family and friends react when you told them of your decision?

My friends thought that I was mad. This included the President and Managing Director of my company. When I handed over my resignation to them, they would not accept it. They asked me to keep it, think carefully and come back to them AFTER three months. I went to them after exactly three months with the same resignation letter. They were surprised. They requested me to reconsider, stating that they would keep the letter for another month before they could decide.

My dad (now in heaven) was one of the most detached persons I have ever encountered. When I called to inform my mum and dad that the money that I was sending them every month would stop because I was planning to join the Society, he replied, “If that is what makes you happy, it will make me happy.” My mum took a little longer to accept. However, one month after I informed her about my decision, I called again. This time she was ready and replied in almost similar words that my dad has used.

Before I left Bahrain, I handed my job to a friend of mine. He is still in Bahrain and is now a multi-milionaire. The President and Managing Director were so gracious that they allowed me to do that.

I have been to Bahrain many times after I became a Jesuit for Lenten Missions and have been to my former company. However, there was and is not even a single moment of regret. When I look at my friend, I know what I could have been had I stayed and yet God has graced me to know that I am where I need to be.

After reaching Bahrain, I became attached to the life there and for some time “forgot” that I wanted to be a Jesuit.

What attracted you to the Society of Jesus?

I was in a Jesuit School and Parish and Frs Peter Ribes and William Beech were great influencers. As a matter of fact it was Fr Ribes who suggested that I graduate, work for some years and then decide.

How did Scripture become such an important part of your life?

At the end of my first year theology, Fr George M Soares Prabhu (now in heaven) came to my room at De Nobili College and told me that as Dean he was granting me permission to do my second and third year theology in one year. This was because he wanted me to go back as soon as possible to the Commerce Section of St Xavier’s College, where Fr Aleu and I had begun a Commerce Section which catered primarily to the poor and marginalised. I accepted his gracious offer and completed my B.Th in two years. At the end of two years, he and I were both told that canonically I had to do three years of theology and it was not the degree but the number of years. He was not aware of this, nor was I. He then suggested that I do my M.Th in my third year which I did. I was attracted to scripture because of Fr George. As a matter of fact, for my dissertation, I chose a passage from the Gospel of Matthew – Fr George’s dissertation was on the Infancy Narratives of Matthew – because I wanted to be challenged by him and I was.

When I called to inform my dad that the money that I was sending them every month would stop because I was planning to join the Society, he replied, “If that is what makes you happy, it will make me happy.”

Immediately after my Ordination, Fr Albert Menezes invited me to teach at St Pius X Seminary, Goregaon, where I have been teaching for the last 33 years. I also taught at Jnana Deepa for some years. This was besides my teaching Financial Management and Accountancy at St Xavier’s College Commerce Section. It seems that I have taken in some way after the evangelist and toll collector Matthew.

Tell us about the responses of your regular readers to your blog?

Many readers are very grateful for the daily reflections and write to me often. A lot of them say that the question at the end of the exegesis helps them remember the text and reflect on it for the whole day.

Many priests and religious are also appreciative, because it helps them prepare their homilies for the next day. I upload the matter on my blog the previous day. This helps those in New Zealand and Australia to have the material before their next day begins.

Fr. Errol Fernandes, SJ (BOM), a Scripture Scholar, serves as the Superior and Chaplain at the Shrine of the Infant Jesus, Nashik Road, Maharashtra. He can be reached at errolsj@gmail.com.

When we celebrate freedom

The Editor introduces the interesting features in this issue dated July-September 2026.

My dear friends,

By now you’d have noticed that all the four issues of INI in a year reach you on an important day – a day when we celebrate something. This issue, dated July–Sept ’26, comes to you on 15 August – the day when we celebrate our Blessed Mother’s Assumption and the political freedom we won from the British, our colonial masters, who ruled and looted our country for nearly 190 years.

This issue carries two interesting interviews – one with Fr Errol Fernandes, SJ (BOM), whose blog won 10 million views recently, and the other with Fr Stephen Sinn, SJ, the Australian Jesuit who has spent his life for and with people on the periphery.

In view of the International Day of Democracy, observed on 15 September, we have an article on democracy, written by Jerald D’Souza, SJ. Thanks to Jivan, we have Fr Emmanuel Arockiam’s article on the need for laughter, fun, and joy in religious life.

A uniquely interesting feature in this issue of INI is the sharing of 13 MDU Scholastics on what they have learned from their summer camps, spent with a variety of groups on the margins – like the homeless, children of migrants, trans people, and workers in salt pans. You have also Joe Durai’s short story. Interestingly, what draws the young man in the story to religious life is the work of Jesuits with another group of the marginalized – refugees. Enjoy reading the contents and send them to all your friends!

– M.A. Joe Antony, SJ

Editor

Is War Ever a Solution?

Cedric Prakash, SJ, explains, in this article, why war today is an unmitigated evil and why it can never be a solution to any problem.

By Cedric Prakash, SJ

A meme which is going viral these days shows a group of jungle animals of different species gazing at the skyline with planes above bombing buildings. There are flames of fire with plumes of black smoke. The animals say to each other, “They have spent billions to explore life on Mars and are spending trillions for destroying ‘life on earth’”. Seated beside these jungle animals are two apparently ‘Martian’ looking creatures. One of them quips, “Humans are really stupid!” That pointed meme says it all!

The world is in the grip of a terrible war. It has never been so bad – particularly since World War II. Thousands are already killed, millions more are affected all over the world -particularly in the Gulf countries and the developing world. The poor and the marginalized, the small farmer and the casual labourer, the slum-dweller and those who live on the peripheries of society, are the worst- affected. Prices have skyrocketed. Today, the average Indian is not even able to procure a cooking gas cylinder to meet his family’s daily needs!

The war began on 28 February 2026, when first Israel and then, the United States, attacked Iran, without any provocation. It has continued till recently when a fragile ceasefire was announced. High-cost missile defense, aircraft sorties, and munitions are driving daily expenditures for the U.S. According to reliable information, the United States spends an estimated $890 million to $1 billion per day on the war against Iran as of late March/early April 2026, with total costs rapidly exceeding $27 billion within the first month. This expenditure is not only astronomical but also downright scandalous. It could easily meet the pressing needs of millions of people all over the world who suffer tremendously because of the lack of food, clean drinking water, housing, clothing, global warming and other natural disasters and much more. The expenditure incurred for this unwanted war becomes much more unbelievable if one has to add the huge amounts incurred by Israel, Iran, Lebanon and the other Gulf nations.

Pope Francis of beloved memory took a very strong stand against war. In his path-breaking Encyclical Fratelli Tutti, he devoted an entire section titled ‘The injustice of war’ (#256-262) where he states “since conditions that favour the outbreak of wars are once again increasing, I can only reiterate that “war is the negation of all rights and a dramatic assault on the environment. We can no longer think of war as a solution, it is very difficult nowadays to invoke the rational criteria elaborated in earlier centuries to speak of the possibility of a “just war”. Never again war! Every war leaves our world worse than it was before.”

Whose war is it anyway? Millions all over the world, and particularly in the United States, have come out on the streets to protest, demanding that the war stops now! There is an outrage everywhere, as most ordinary people rightly target the U.S. and Israeli regimes and their military outfits! Obviously, a good percentage of the media – controlled by the warmongers – will not highlight this reality. There are cries for peace – underlining the painful reality, that in any war the greatest victims, the people who suffer the most – are the poor, the vulnerable and marginalized; those who have to eke out a living; whose very existence is on their meagre daily earnings. Many of them have lost everything.

Interestingly, most of the leaders of the developed nations are not supporting the war. They demand that war stops immediately. The US, Israel and their crony capitalist friends unfortunately justify every attack, every bombing, and every killing! No one is looking at the consequences of war: of how reality irreversibly changes for the victims; how there is irreparable devastation and wanton destruction of both of life and property. Even the ordinary middle class traveller has been affected and greatly inconvenienced with the rise in airfares and the fact that hundreds of daily flights have been cancelled everywhere!

“We can no longer think of war as a solution, it is very difficult nowadays to invoke the rational criteria elaborated in earlier centuries to speak of the possibility of a “just war”.” – Pope Francis

The one sector that is profiteering is the industrial-military complex – those who own the companies that produce arms and ammunition. Today billions of dollars are allocated to the production of weapons, particularly on weapons of mass destruction. Pope Francis also took on the arms trade referring to it as the ‘industry of death’. On 23 September 2015, addressing the U.S. Congress, he spoke plainly:“Why are deadly weapons being sold to those who plan to inflict untold suffering on individuals and society? Sadly, the answer, as we all know, is simply for money: money that is drenched in blood, often-innocent blood. In the face of this shameful and culpable silence, it is our duty to confront the problem and to stop the arms trade.”

Ever since this war began, Pope Leo XIV has spared no efforts to condemn the war and ask for the immediate cessation of hostilities. At a Prayer Vigil for Peace on 11 April in the Vatican, his message to the world was powerful and direct, “Enough of the idolatry of self and money! Enough of the display of power! Enough of war! …Dear brothers and sisters, there are certainly binding responsibilities that fall to the leaders of nations. To them we cry out: Stop! It is time for peace! Sit at the table of dialogue and mediation, not at the table where rearmament is planned and deadly actions are decided! Yet there is a no less significant responsibility that falls on all of us — men and women from all over the world. We are an immense multitude that rejects war not only in word, but also in deed.”

“I will continue to speak out loudly against war, to try to promote peace, multilateral dialogue between states in order to seek the right solution to problems.” – Pope Leo XIV

President Trump has not taken too kindly to Pope Leo’s insistence that war must be stopped. The President has used words against the Pope which are very unacceptable and which have been unequivocally condemned by all sections of society. To the President’s rant Pope Leo’s response was, “I am not a politician, I have no intention of entering into a debate with him. Rather, let us always seek peace and put an end to wars. I am not afraid of the Trump administration. I speak about the Gospel, I am not a politician. I do not think the message of the Gospel should be abused in the way some people are doing. I will continue to speak out loudly against war, to try to promote peace, multilateral dialogue between states in order to seek the right solution to problems. The message of the Church is the message of the Gospel: “Blessed are the peacemakers; I do not see my role as that of a politician, I do not want to enter into a debate with him. Too many people are suffering in the world.”

We all have much to learn from the Pope’s message and take a stand against this senseless war and all other wars.

Cedric Prakash, SJ (GUJ) is a well-known human rights, reconciliation and peace activist and writer.

The Weight of Silver

In this interesting story, Sch. John Philips, SJ, tries to understand the thoughts and emotions of Judas after he betrayed Jesus.

– Judas’s soliloquy

By Sch. John Philips, SJ

The true weight of my actions settled in the hollow silence that followed the kiss – a vast, aching void left in its wake. They seized him and took him away. I stood alone, the night air hitting my chest like a rock. My mind had conjured a thousand different eventualities – but not this one. I had lived for the promise of thunder, for the arrival of radiant glory, and for the crowning of a king – not for a call to put the sword back in its sheath and a meek surrender.

He offered no struggle against the guards, his wrists yielding to their grip as though those ropes were merely ribbons. There was no thunderous command to the heavens, no summoning of celestial legions from the skies to crush his enemies. He did not strike me down for my treachery. He did not even grant me the mercy of a condemnation. There was only the unbearable weight of his presence. He simply held me in his gaze, a gaze that shed light on the darkness of my soul.

The memories of the day he called me remain surprisingly vivid. My name was woven seamlessly alongside the others – eleven to be precise. I observed Peter’s bold, restless vitality and John’s quiet, loving devotion. But what did I, Judas of Kerioth, have – for him to count me as one of the Twelve? His voice that afternoon was anchored in certainty, entirely devoid of any hesitation and doubts that men usually have. It looked as if he had traced the shifting terrain of my soul, long before I had even discovered its borders. He did not look at who I was, but at who he wanted me to be.

In the months that followed, he entrusted the common purse to me – a heavy, leather burden that anchored me to the earth while the others drifted toward the clouds. While my brothers occupied themselves with grand sermons and miraculous healings, I was tasked with ensuring we had enough to keep going. So in the quiet hours of the night I had to count the money and see how much we had and how much we still needed. It was, in essence, a mundane duty, yet I felt its staggering weight.

But what did I, Judas of Kerioth, have – for him to count me as one of the Twelve?

Was he blind to my weakness, or did he simply choose to look through it? Surely, he deciphered human hearts as easily as one reads an open scroll. He must have sensed my pulse quicken at the cool, metallic touch of silver. He must have seen that hidden spark of satisfaction that flickered in my palm whenever I felt the weight of that purse.

Yet, he never withdrew the purse or tore away my mask. He continued to offer his trust, a gift that he didn’t give to others.

Then we reached Jerusalem, and the city seemed to vibrate with our arrival. The air was thick and heavy with the fevered cries of “Hosanna to the Son of David!” as garments and palm branches carpeted the road like banners of victory. My hope flared. I was certain the hour had finally come. To my eyes, the throne was within reach, Rome’s iron grip was visibly failing, and the long-awaited kingdom was ascending from the dust of our travels.

Yet, as the hosannas faded against the city’s stone walls, my hope began to crumble. Instead of victory he spoke of agony; instead of the throne he spoke of the grave. It felt like a jagged stone caught in my throat. I could not accept this version of the Messiah as a suffering servant. To my mind, a king was someone who would climb the throne – not a cross. I reasoned with a desperate logic: if he refused to claim the truth about him, he must be forced to reveal it. I believed that by placing him in the shadow of the sword, he would finally be compelled to cast off his humility and descend in a storm of fire to crush the Romans and their Jewish allies.

This plan did not feel like treachery at first; it appeared in the guise of courage. I told myself that by handing him over to those who wanted to kill him, I was forcing a confrontation he could not ignore. Under threat, his true majesty would erupt, the priests and Pharisees would tremble, the Romans would bow, and his kingdom would finally be here. I convinced myself I was merely accelerating destiny.

While my brothers occupied themselves with grand sermons and miraculous healings, I was tasked with ensuring we had enough to keep going.

When the thirty pieces of silver were counted and given to me, I accepted them as one accepts a tool, an instrument for a higher purpose. The metal felt cool and looked deceptively innocent. But in the shadows of the garden, my resolve cracked. My voice wavered as I called Him “Rabbi.” That kiss, intended to be a signal to those who wanted him dead, became the seal of my shame.

And then he looked at me – not with anger or bitterness – but with a sorrow older than the universe. It was a gaze that saw through my greed that hid behind my justifications. Yet it remained anchored in a love that would not condemn. In his gaze I saw the truth I had suppressed: He had chosen me to be his disciple, trusted me with an important responsibility and loved me with his whole heart.

I had mistaken his meekness for hesitation and his gentleness for weakness. I had tried to force a kingdom that was never meant to be established by power. Now, the silver weighs heavier than iron. It is actually my shame, my guilt. It is becoming heavier and heavier, crushing my heart, soul and body. Since they would not take this bag of silver coins that is crushing me with its unbearable weight, I need to throw them in the temple and go and find a way to get rid of this weight of guilt, whatever it may take. I may need a strong, sturdy rope – stronger and sturdier than the one the guards used to tie the hands of my Master.

Sch. John Philips, SJ (MDU) has just completed his M.A (English) at St. Joseph’s College, Trichy.

Discerning the Demons

This story depicts how a young man wrestles with nagging questions just before his ordination.

By A. Joseph Dorairaj

The mobile rang continuously. The printer told Mathew that the invitations have been printed and packed.

In seven days Mathew and his seven novitiate companions were to be ordained by the newly-consecrated bishop at St. Francis Xavier Jubilee Auditorium. The bishop wanted it to be an event that would inspire the laity, particularly the youth, so that some of them will be encouraged to become priests.

Just a day before the ordination, Mathew was down with typhoid and had to be hospitalized. He was in a pretty bad shape and his provincial was by his side. His parents were deeply worried and pleaded with the provincial to go ahead with the ordination. He listened to them calmly and told them, “We’ll wait and see. Another twenty-four hours to go. We’ll consult the doctor and if he says ok, we’ll definitely proceed with Mathew’s ordination. Even otherwise there is no problem. He can be ordained in a few months, whenever the bishop is available.”

“But Father, we’ve made all arrangements. All our relatives have gathered here. Some have come from the Middle East and a couple of them from the US. Please don’t cancel Mathew’s ordination on any account.”

“We’re not cancelling his ordination. We may have to postpone it because of his health condition. Whenever the doctor gives us the green signal, we’ll go ahead.”

A couple of days later Mathew felt better. He wanted to be shifted to his residence and the doctor approved his decision. Everyone who visited him assured his parents that he would be ordained soon.

A week later, Mathew met his provincial and told him, “Father, I want to be in the Retreat Centre for a week. I’m emotionally disturbed. I also have a few nagging questions regarding my vocation. Since my spiritual director is also the director of the Retreat Centre, I would like to seek his guidance.”

The provincial and the doctor gave him the green signal to go to the Retreat Centre and advised him to continue with the medication. Meeting his spiritual director at the Retreat Centre, he said, “Father, of late I’m unable to sleep. In fact, I am unable to focus on anything.”

The bishop wanted it to be an event that would inspire the laity, particularly the youth, so that some of them will be encouraged to become priests.

“Is anything troubling you, Mathew?” asked his spiritual director.

“Yes, Father. I’ve some nagging questions about my vocation. If God had really chosen me, then he should have ensured that I didn’t fall sick just before my ordination. When all my co-novices were ordained, why was I left out? What is God’s plan for me?”

“Mathew, you’re reading too much into your hospitalization. The postponement of your ordination was for health reasons, not religious ones. It could have happened to me – to anybody, for that matter. That has nothing to do with your vocation. These are two different issues. I’m surprised that you’ve tied up these two issues.”

“I don’t think my hospitalization was just an accident. I take it as a subtle message. Maybe I am not meant to be a priest. Maybe my vocation is elsewhere.”

Some hinted that Mathew was leaving the seminary and was getting married to his former classmate. Some even wondered whether he had any vocation in the first place.

At the Retreat Centre, Mathew prayed hard. He spent long hours in meditation. He wanted to discern the will of God and act accordingly. His spiritual director was able to guide him in this rather difficult phase of his journey.

After three months his provincial told Mathew to go back to the college where he taught, but advised him to keep meeting his spiritual director every week without fail. Getting back to his teaching and hostel assignments helped him a lot to gain stability. Now he was both physically and emotionally much better. But his doubts, his demons tortured him.

Sometime in mid-May, he participated in a week-long intensive course on Ignatian Discernment, directed by a famous Jesuit priest. After talking to him for long hours, he made up his mind.

Calling his provincial, he said, “Father, are you free this weekend? I’d like to meet you regarding my future.”

“Good to hear from you Mathew. I’m free this weekend. You’re most welcome.”

Mathew and his provincial had long conversations.

“Father, I am not sure that God wants me to be a priest. I cannot live with this nagging doubt any more. So, it’s better that I leave.”

The provincial thought for a long time. He told him that he would talk to his team and get back to him. After a week, he said to him, “If you have discerned the will of God and, after intense prayer and reflection, have decided, to leave the seminary, I don’t want to hold you back. I respect your decision and will continue to support you in whatever way I can.”

Mathew rang up his father and told him that he had decided to leave the seminary. His father cried inconsolably. He told him, “It’s heart-breaking, son. I don’t know how your mom will take it. She’s already very stressed. But I’m with you.”

If God had really chosen me, then he should have ensured that I didn’t fall sick just before my ordination. When all my co-novices were ordained, why was I left out?

That weekend he reached his parents’ home around 7 pm. After dinner he and his parents sat around the dining table and discussed a few things.“Mom, I’ve two requests,” said Mathew. “First, no visitors please. I don’t want to meet anyone and answer their unending questions as to why I left the seminary. Second, don’t force me to go to the church for the time being.”

His father patted him on his back and assured him of their continued support.

For nearly two months, Mathew didn’t stir out of the house. In fact, he hardly left his room. He was seen walking up and down in a meditative mood.

After nearly two months, he said to his father. “Dad, I’ll rejoin the college. I spoke to the principal and he told me that my post as an Assistant Professor of Mathematics is intact.”

“Go ahead, son.”

There were dramatic changes in Mathew after he re-joined his college. There was a semblance of normalcy in his life and his face looked a lot brighter. His parents were quite relieved.

After nearly six months, one evening while they were having tea, his mom asked him, “Son, is there any possibility of going back to the seminary?”

Mathew was silent for a long time.

“You needn’t answer if it will make you uncomfortable.”

His novitiate companions wanted to celebrate the first anniversary of their ordination. They wanted Mathew to join them. They all went to a nearby pilgrim centre, celebrated Mass and had dinner. After dinner, his companions asked him if he thought of going back to the seminary. When he said ‘No,’ many of them insisted that he should then get married and settle down. John, his close friend, convinced him about getting married.

Four months later Mathew and Jancy got married in the cathedral in a quiet ceremony attended by less than 100 people. His former provincial and the director of the Retreat Centre concelebrated his wedding Mass. All his novitiate companions had turned up and everyone was happy. His parents kept smiling.

A few weeks after his wedding, Mathew called up John and told him that he wanted to spend some time with him. When he told him that he was coming alone, he was annoyed and told him to bring his wife also. “No John, I’m coming alone. I want to discuss something important.” After much persuasion, John relented.

John and Mathew went for a long walk. During the entire conversation, Mathew’s only question was: “John, did I take the right decision? Sometimes I feel that I should have stayed back in the seminary. Am I the right person for Jancy? Did I do the right thing marrying her? Did she deserve someone better than me?”

John told him firmly: “Mathew, stop asking these questions. You went through a process of discernment and decided to get married. What makes you doubt the result of that process? These nagging doubts are your demons. Drive them away. Look ahead and be a good husband to Jancy.”

A few weeks later Mathew met John with Jancy and they celebrated her birthday. He assured John: “I’m wrestling with my demons, John. Please pray that I win.”