Dear Friends in Christ,
Greetings from Fr. Mathew! I have decided to write regularly on my life in Rome through this blog. My purpose in composing these words and sharing with you is to make Christ known more. Let God's name be praised in everything I say and do.
In Christ,
Fr. Mathew
Reflections on My Decision to Become a Priest
Part I
Commemorating the 150th anniversary of the death of St. Jean Vianney, the patron saint of parish priests, the Church has announced a special year of priests beginning on June 19, 2009. Even though all baptized Christians participate in the Royal Priesthood of Christ, the ministerial (ordained) priesthood is established to serve the people of God. With all the changes happening in the Post Modern world, the nature and role of ordained ministry is a big topic of discussion. My intention here is not to explain all those issues but to analyze my own priestly vocation in view of the ministry I do at St. Thomas a’Becket. I have to admit that I never had an extraordinary experience of God calling me to become a priest. But in my ordinary life, I believe God sent some extra ordinary people to discern my priestly vocation. It is my family - from the parents – that I learned the basic lessons of faith. Mine is a traditional Catholic family. Like any other Eastern Catholics of India, we claim the patrimony of St. Thomas. At home, avoiding dinner was easier for me than skipping the evening prayer! Our catechism classes were on Sundays and I enjoyed every bit of it. One of my classmates from my Catechism class is also a priest in my Archdiocese. My induction into the altar server group made me closer to the Church. When I was in high school, I used to serve at mass almost every day. The Church was a half hour walk from my house, and I used to recite the rosary on my way to the Church. When I had school assignments I used this time to learn things by heart. My village Church is on a small hill and I could see the cross on the top of the Church from far away. Actually I would be walking towards the Church looking at the cross, so I ended up doing what I was looking forward to doing. Now I don’t have to walk to the Church; I am in the Church. Being an altar server actually put me in a privileged position and made me closer to the parish priest. The parish priest would be another element in discerning my priestly vocation. He was very close to the people and was ready to help anyone at any time. People asked for his advice, prayers and directions. Everyone in the parish felt that he was a member of their family. Slowly I began to think that I wanted to be somebody like him. His closeness to God was expressed in his closeness to the people. Whenever he went to other parishes to do mass or to preach, we accompanied him. The children from those parishes watched us following the priest with a little bit of jealously. We cleverly ‘manipulated’ the situation into showing that we were ‘special children from another world.’ Once in a while the priest asked me whether I was thinking about becoming a priest. The truth is that I never thought about becoming anything else. My joining the seminary after the high school was a more natural progression than anything extra-ordinary.
Part II
My decision to join the seminary after high school graduation brought some relief to my siblings. I have two brothers and two sisters, and being the middle one I was fighting with everyone. For them ‘the big troublemaker’ had gone once I joined the seminary, and they believed that now I had no choice but to behave. “Hit and run” was one of my nuisances among many, and my siblings could not tolerate me anymore. When my mother chased me to give a detention I used to climb up the trees and stay there for some time. But she left my younger brother underneath the tree to watch me and inform her when I came down. These are a few stories I could share, and many more that I am embarrassed to publish. That is one of the reasons I won’t bring my mother to the United States, as she will reveal my real nature. I also wrote this to give you some hope if you have a son like me – but you have to send him to the seminary. It was in June 1986 that I joined the St. Aloysius Minor Seminary of my Archdiocese. I was only fifteen years old and was a little immature to distinguish the attractions and distractions of the world. Our minor seminary training is three years, and we had the formation house for the first year in the Archbishops house. There were eleven students in my class for the first year. Being in the bishop’s house was a privilege but at the same time made us nervous. Every day we woke up at 5:15 AM and had to be in the chapel by 5:45 AM. Our half hour of meditation in the morning for the first few months was my extension of my morning sleep. It continued with morning prayers and mass. But eventually I began to enjoy the morning mediation as we received some training on how to meditate. We were given training in different disciplines – we learned the basic prayers, training in English grammar, Introduction to the Bible, Spirituality, Elocution, Etiquettes and Syriac language (my liturgical language is Syriac, not Latin). We were encouraged to use the library and I was so excited to read the life of the saints. I still remember reading books on saints like Maria Vianney, Francis Assisi, Francis Xavier, John Bosco, Aloysius, Theresa of Lisieux, and many more. I thought if I give up myself completely to God, I would be like them. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I had so many limitations, and needed to work a lot more to just be a good priest.
My first year in the seminary was mostly uneventful - except I accidently damaged the sanctuary lamp and got into big trouble! The rector made me pay to replace it and complained to all the priests who knew me that I was a ‘trouble maker.’ Of the two priests who talked to me about this, one scolded me in front of another seminarian from my parish and advised me to be like him (he left after few years,) and the other secretly told me that I should continue doing things like this and only fulfilling what God has asked Jeremiah to do: “To root up and to tear down, to destroy and to demolish, to build and to plant.” (Jer. 1: 10). I was reluctant to heed to that advice since I really wanted to become a priest! Since we were in the bishop’s house, the Archbishop called us together once in a while and talked for a few minutes. We were trained to be in our best behavior whenever that happened.
Part III
Last week I wrote about my relationship with my siblings, and the first part of my first year in the seminary. This week I continue with the initial stages of my seminary formation.
Waking up early in the morning was a challenge for me and my friends. But we had to be in the chapel at 5:45 AM. No matter what time we woke up, we were in the chapel just in time for the meditation. Sometimes I wondered if that rector had nothing else to do than watching us pray!
We knelt down during the time of meditation to avoid any kind of ‘temptation from the devil’ to make us sleep. Morning Prayer and Mass took more than an hour. But looking back now, I think I enjoyed it. We took turns in serving mass. It was the altar servers who started the songs of the mass, also. I cleverly avoided the ‘singing spot’ and was caught by the rector. Soon he began to ignore me when he found out how “talented” a singer I was! We spent more than two hours in community prayer alone, besides private spiritual reading, Bible reading and rosary. During breakfast one of us had to read a spiritual book while the others ate. It was not only to educate, but also to discipline our minds. This was a time of silence and we all thought that it could be a ‘mortal sin’ deserving ‘capital punishment’ if we broke that rule.
In the second semester I was made prefect of the group, which made me think that I was more ‘powerful’ than the Archbishop! I used my ‘authority’ to control everyone who created trouble for me, too. These are silly things I did as I look back now because of the ‘immaturity’ of my age.
One thing I really liked in the seminary (which I enjoyed all through my seminary life) is the time for sports and games. One thing I didn’t like was washing and ironing my clothes since my mother did that for me at home.
I was asked by the rector to do the felicitation speech for that year when the seminarians met the Archbishop for his Feast Day. It was a real honor and I began to disturb the rector almost every day about the speech - finally he told me that I wouldn’t be doing it. He asked another seminarian to do this and wrote a speech for him. I was so disappointed about this, but what made me really enjoy the whole thing was when my friend completely forgot the speech when it was time to deliver it. But I soon realized that it was not a good thing to rejoice in somebody else’s embarrassment. He was ordained a priest with me and turned out to be a good priest, giving wonderful homilies.
You may be wondering why I didn’t like the rector from the way I write about him. He was actually a simple, loving person, and we began to appreciate him once we had moved on to the next step. He was our rector only for a year and is still doing wonderful priestly ministry in my Archdiocese.
Part IV
This week I am sharing with you one of my intimate life events which I have not been comfortable sharing before. My first year in the seminary was as joyful as I expected, but there began to grow “a thorn in my flesh which I prayed to God to remove” (Ref. 2 Cor 12: 7).
My father was diagnosed with a tumor in his liver. His illness and death influenced my life and my relationship with the Lord in the initial stages of my seminary formation more than any other event. He came from a rather large family – five brothers and a sister. According to him, he discontinued his studies in order to help his father on the farm so his brothers could continue their education. As a result, his brothers became well educated and climbed higher on life’s ladder. However, my father felt that they did not support him as he did them back when he was needed by their father. So even though we had good family relationships, he did not allow us to receive any ‘favors’ from them.
I am not sure I would call him an ‘alcoholic,’ even though he had a ‘drinking problem.’ He gave up alcohol completely when I was in fifth grade. I had memories of him arguing and having severe dis-agreements with my mother even when they seemed to be the ‘perfect couple’ to the outside world. I developed a ‘rebellion’ in my mind to all the alcoholics; not just of my town, but of the whole world. We also went through some severe financial difficulties at this time. But once he recovered from his addiction to alcohol, our life seemed to be “green” again - except for the financial troubles, which took many more years to return to resolve. I now consider his addiction to be his reaction to his financial and educational situation in comparison with his siblings.
My father was only forty three when he was diagnosed with cancer. I was in my first year when he was admitted to the Medical College which was closer to my seminary. I was so ‘innocent and holy’ at that age (not anymore) and spent hours in the chapel praying. Even during recreation times when everyone was playing, I went to the chapel and cried. Some of my friends were very sympathetic to me when they saw so many tears in my eyes. Some thought I didn’t like the seminary anymore, and that I was becoming home sick - contemplating leaving. I didn’t explain myself to them, thinking that these were my personal wounds; why bother them? My father had surgery to remove the tumor and it seemed that he was completely cured. He went back to his normal life until it reappeared a few years later. He died when I was in my fifth year of formation, the second year of my graduate studies. He died on January 12, 1990. I didn’t cry much at his funeral like the rest of my family since I was mentally prepared to accept it. But I could not contain my grief when I went home that summer for vacation. Every time I went home for vacation I still felt his presence there, and the emptiness created by his absence caused me to feel real grief for the first time.
Looking back, I learned so much from my encounter with my father’s cancer and death. Now I never hesitate to put aside everything instantly when I get a sick call to anoint or just pray. I pray more and am closer to the Lord in my grieving moments than in my joyous moments. I feel my father’s presence more now than I ever imagined since this presence could transcend space and time. Every death and funeral in the parish has become my own rather than ‘another one’ in the list. I better understand a person grieving over their loved one’s death, even though I can recover from my grief quicker. One never forgets a person who has helped in the sorrowful moments more than joyous moments. The presence of God is felt in our sufferings when we really understand the meaning of cross. I understood the cross of Christ because of the cross I had to bear.
Part V
Last week I shared some of my intimate life experiences and a few people came to me with tears in their eyes, telling me how much they liked it. This week I am writing on my second year of training in the seminary.
We moved to a new location where we had the second and third year. This place was also the center of my Archdiocese’s catechetical studies. Our former Archbishop was very involved with many movements which concentrated their works on the poor and the disabled. He donated a portion of the land of the diocese in this area to start the Cheshire Home which took care of the disabled people. We used to visit the house very often and spent time with the people there.
These two years were a time of intense study as we attended university classes. What we used to call Pre-Degree (equivalent to our junior and senior years) was offered to us and we had to take the exam with the university. I had never worked this hard before (or since) as I did in my pre-degree years. There were days I only slept a few hours at night, which was actually against the rules. Our new rector was also doing some university studies. He used to come out of his office at 11 PM every night to make sure that the lights were off and we were all asleep. What we used to do is to turn off the lights and get into bed and pretended that we were asleep! We turned on the lights as soon as he went into his room to sleep. I also have to mention here that we had a common dormitory at this time.
I did very well with my first year of pre-degree, and the rector encouraged me more and was happy with everything I did. I completed the two years studies with a GPA of 4.0 and I was very excited about it. One memorable event of this time I would mention here is getting a warning from the rector about another “mischief” of mine and my friends. I was the sacristan and it was my responsibility to make sure that everything was in order for the mass and other liturgical services. I kept the sacristy key which was considered a key to the “kingdom of God.” A few of my friends knew where I usually put the keys after the mass. It soon became apparent that the wine for the masses was drying up faster than it should! Somehow the rector began to notice that, and caught the ‘culprits.’ In order to be saved from the ‘great danger’ facing their future, one of them told the rector that he also had seen me drinking the wine. It was not in my nature to do that, but technically he was right that I did drink wine (once - when I was cleaning up after a mass). I was warned by the friend who came to call me to the rector’s office that I have been betrayed by the friend. So I did not see the point of denying it and readily accepted that I did drink the wine. I received my first warning, and the rest of the group received their last warning. These warnings had been repeated a few more times before we all became priests.
Part VI
Pope John Paul II visited India in 1986 and was in our Cathedral in Trivandrum on February 8,1986. I joined the seminary a few months after John Paul’s visit. He blessed the foundation stone for the Major Seminary we were planning to build. The philosophy section of the Major Seminary was inaugurated on May 25, 1989. We then moved to this new seminary to begin our first year of philosophy training. Before starting the philosophy course we had six months of pre-philosophy, which was a time of intense training to improve our proficiency in the English language. This was a time of intellectual torture for us since we needed to learn many language skills in a short amount of time. We were allowed only to speak English and had to go through detention if the Father Prefect heard us speaking Malayalam, my native tongue. This was necessary since the medium of learning Philosophy was English.
Even though the seminary moved to the new building the construction had not been completed. This caused major trouble for us. Many of us became sick because of the dust on the floor where we were residing. Those who were ‘immune to diseases’ pretended to be sick to ‘take a rest’ with the rest of the group. We were asked to do manual labor during play time which we did not like at all. We had no chance of protesting or resisting since our Rector and other professors were in the front doing all kinds of manual work.
At this time I got many more friends, since seminarians from other dioceses joined our class. This also created competition as we were trying to out-perform each other. Our daily routine was the same as in the minor seminary, except we had the Father Prefect directing the morning mediation. He used to sit in our study room just to make sure that we were studying and not doing anything else. This became a problem for me later as I could not study anything without somebody watching me studying!
Just after breakfast we had to rush to the class room to listen to the English news. This was with the intention of improving our listening capacity. Some of the smart ones among us, who always missed the real news, made up their own news. A common phrase at that time was “something happened in Punjab”; because something serious happened in Punjab because of the Khalistan Movement. (It was a separatist movement in Punjab to create "The Land of the Pure" as an independent theocratic Sikh state in all Punjabi-speaking areas of India. Later, Indian security forces successfully defeated the secessionist insurgency in Punjab in the early 1990s. But Indira Gandhi, the former Prime Minister, was assassinated because of her role in defeating the separatism there.) Those who did not hear the news created some news of their own to convince the Father Prefect that they were listening. They were not successful in convincing him since he was beyond our capacity to fool, and had gone through the same kind of training that we were having! Part VII
In the seminary every year we have arts and sports competition. It is a time to show our talents, and all kinds of ‘animosity’ is created between the groups to win the prizes. We were divided into different groups, and besides individual and group competitions each group also published daily news bulletins, applying a lot of creativity to try and tarnish the image of other groups. One year I was the leader of the group and I was proud that my group won that year’s competition.
One of the most memorable events I recall now is acting the role of the Crucified Christ for a “fancy dress” competition. Two of my friends agreed to help me to prepare for this event. We needed to make the cross, find the dress and get the makeup materials. Our seminary is on a beautiful hill surrounded by coconut and rubber trees. We secretly cut the wood from one of the trees and made a cross out of it. I won the second prize in the competition for that item. But a few days later our bodies began to react with swellings. We had no idea what was happening until we found out that the tree we cut for wood was a poisonous one that nobody dared to approach! As a result we were admitted to the hospital for one week. Just like the crucifixion of Jesus, the three of us were crucified together. I never again attempted to win a prize in a “fancy dress” competition!
We were allowed to go home for Christmas and Easter. Christmas was a short vacation and Easter is the summer vacation. We also spent these days in a parish helping the priests. This was a time for a lot of learning for us. During summer vacations we were assigned to various parishes to conduct Vacation Bible School Classes. This was fun because of the special leadership role we assumed in various parishes. We got to know new people and priests, and some of those relationships continued later on in life. Because of my inability to sing I was always a ‘shy boy’ in my home parish. There were two other seminarians just ahead of me who were considered as ‘superstars’ wherever they went. It took a long time for me to be accepted into that ‘privileged class.’ I loved to teach and preach, which enabled me to work on those areas and helped me later on in my life as a priest.
Along with the seminary studies we also registered for university studies. The system we followed is different from the education system here. I did not appreciate studying philosophy much at that time. But later on I understood that philosophy asks the fundamental questions which theology tries to answer. Now I try to reread philosophical books to understand and appreciate theology better. These three years of philosophy studies were challenging times in my priestly vocation. Even when I worked very hard to excel in studies, I was going through some “dark moments” in my spiritual life. We all had a spiritual father for spiritual consultation and it was compulsory that we should meet them frequently. Besides the regular spiritual fathers, I had some other priest friends in the seminary to whom I opened my heart to get their insight in shedding some light into my “dark moments.”
Part VIII
My fifth year in the seminary (second year in philosophy) was the most eventful year in my priestly formation. We had a new administrative system with a new rector. Even though they were all good people, we resisted the change. It resulted in many of my friends leaving the seminary. Now I see that they used the occasion as an excuse to leave, and blamed it on the rector and the staff.
My life had been changed because of my father’s death that year. I felt the need to fill the vacuum created by his departure by supporting my mother and younger siblings. I lost interest in my studies and also in prayer. (Some of the things I am writing here are not easy for me to write, but I know you will take it in the best sense.) I decided to discontinue my seminary studies, but I was not sure what to do next. There were several other reasons which strengthened my view on why I felt I didn’t have the vocation to become a priest anymore. I was twenty years old at the time and the hormonal changes began to affect my life already. My attraction to the opposite sex was something I wanted to hide. I thought it was something unique for me, and how in the world could I control myself to stop this attraction if I were to become a priest? We were always surrounded by men, and the sight of a woman gave more delight than anything at this time. I began to fantasize about having a family of my own. Since I am not writing a fantasy novel I cannot elaborate on this topic. Now I am surrounded by beautiful women whom I love and admire, which I never would have had if I were to have made the decision to be with just one.
My first step after deciding to leave the seminary was to consult a priest whom I knew all through my seminary life. He was a philosophy Professor in the seminary. His first reaction to my decision surprised me. He told me that I had made a good decision. He also added that it was not the time to leave, since it might have affected my studies and then I would end up nowhere. He asked me to stay in the seminary one more year - not with the intention of leaving, but as a time for discernment. I shared my feelings with my mother when I went home for vacation that year. She was surprised and wanted to know what I would do next - as if I was not able to do anything else! I also spoke to some of my close friends who were also thinking along the same line.
I continued in the seminary, trying to discern my vocation. I began to pray more than before. My prayer to God was to reveal his will for me – whether I have to leave or continue my formation. I am here to do God’s will, and it remains partially hidden from me so I have to pray constantly. Since God talks to us through events and people, I also sought help from others.
We have a week of retreat every year in the seminary. This is a time of complete silence as it is a time of prayer. That year the retreat was exceptionally good. I thought God sent that priest to speak directly to me. He spoke from his heart and it began to affect my life and my decisions. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but by the end of the retreat I had made up my mind…I was not leaving the seminary because God wants me to be a priest to work in his vineyard.
I never again thought of leaving, and to this day I haven’t regretted it.
Part IX
When I started writing about my seminary life, I did not intend to write the way I do now. Now I am sharing everything except what I say in the confessional, and from the response I get, it seems everyone likes the way it is going. I hope that someone will be inspired to respond to the call of God, to religious and priestly life, knowing that God calls ordinary people with all kinds of limitations and makes use of them in different ways. None of us are immune to the struggles and temptations of human life, but God fills us with his grace when we give ourselves to his cause.
The final year of my philosophy course was a quiet year since I had settled down from most of the turmoil of my life. It was a time I began to concentrate on my studies as we had to take the final university exam. At this age we were hungry all the time. We were not allowed to go to the kitchen except for the designated times, and we didn’t have enough money or were even allowed to buy food on our own. The seminary provided good food and we ate everything we got. After the evening game of basketball we felt so hungry and the long evening prayer was our ‘prayer for the meals.’ I believe I still hold the record for eating chappathis (It is a kind of Indian bread like naan, but different - it’s made from wheat flour). You may not believe this, but one time I ate thirty-four chappathis with chicken curry, and another friend ate thirty two! After eating this many chappathis my friend went to bed and woke up normally for next day’s game. The Catholic Church saved some money when he left the seminary before completing the philosophy course! I became more ‘normal’ after few years. Now it may take a week for me to eat that much food!
The Sisters were in charge of the kitchen, infirmary, and library. We used different techniques to have more whenever we were given soft-boiled eggs and plantains with breakfast. With small holes on both sides of the eggs we could suck out everything inside and then later we gave them back saying that it was spoiled. The sisters would then provide new ones! Same with the bananas - we peeled them carefully without anybody noticing we had taken the fruits. But once, when they ran short of bananas and eggs, they recycled what we gave them to other tables and then they found out that we were fooling them. Sisters forgave us more easily than the priests for our ‘sins.’
That year, as an experiment to teach us how to cook, we were put in charge of the kitchen. This was also with the purpose giving a day off to the kitchen employees. But the seminary stopped this practice when they found out that we were ‘expensive, inexperienced cooks.’
I successfully completed my philosophy training in 1991 and was ready to start the next step in my formation. The sixth year in the seminary is a crucial step for us since it is a time for us to discern our vocation carefully. The whole year is spent in different parishes to get to know people and to get practical lessons from the priests with whom we are staying.
Part X
After successfully completing my Philosophy studies, I started a year of pastoral training. This year is usually known as the “regency” period. We are assigned either to an institution or a parish in the Archdiocese for six months each. We also put into practice some of the skills learned in the seminary; it was a time devoid of formal studies.
I was assigned to the Minor Seminary of my diocese in the first term. Initially I thought this was something like going from a medium security place to a maximum security place, since minor seminary is considered to be a place of rigorous formation. But soon I realized that my fears were out of place. My responsibilities included buying groceries for the seminary and to oversee the janitorial work, besides many other things. The means to satisfy all the needs were limited, and I had to pull out all my skills to survive in those situations.
Going to the market was fun, but buying the groceries for the right price was challenging. We also cultivated some of the vegetables we needed in our garden. Since we’re used to super markets here, maybe you have no idea of what I am talking about. I ordered all the items from the market and they would deliver them to the seminary. I also had to verify that we received the right items and the right quantity. One time I made an adventurous attempt to buy fish from the fishermen when they caught it from the sea. It was a little farther from the seminary, and I did not inform my friends that I was going there. They panicked when I did not show up at the usual time, but later rejoiced with me when they saw what I had in store for them. One of the priests got tired of eating the same fish for so many days, and asked when I was going to the market again!
The rector always gave me less money than I actually needed for the market. It became a problem for me, but you didn’t dare argue with your rector when you were under formation. I found the solution on my own: ask for more money than I needed. We were both happy because he saved money for the seminary by giving less, and I helped the seminary by saving from the excess he gave me!!
We had nearly forty minor seminarians at that time. It was an opportunity for me to know them better, and it challenged me to be a good role model for them. Because of this I could not miss any of my spiritual activities. I made sure that I showed up in the chapel during prayer time even when I was busy with several responsibilities.
What I really liked at this time was that I could dominate the basketball court and show my skills since they were just maturing in their games. Another thing I did at this time which helped me in the future was to take typewriting (keyboarding) classes in the afternoon. We did not have a computer at that time in the seminary, and I never expected to use a computer like I use now. But because of that my typing skills have improved tremendously.
Every Sunday I went to the mission churches where the seminary rector served as pastor. This was a welcome relief for me from the structured routine life of the seminary. I always liked being with the people and enjoyed teaching catechism classes in those mission stations.
Part XI
The second part of my regency was spent with a young, simple and energetic pastor in one of the parishes in my Archdiocese. This was an entirely different experience than spending time in the minor seminary with the young seminarians. The practical lessons I learned watching the parish priest helped me in my own endeavors later in life. He was loved by everyone in the parish and was available to them in all their spiritual needs. Since this place was closer to my house I found time to visit my family, also.
This priest had three parishes and I went with him to all three. One of the activities I enjoyed doing was house visiting. Unlike here we could go to any house without informing them. It is hard for us to understand some of the things we do there because of the cultural difference. One of the youth members who knew these families accompanied me in those visits. This was the best way to know people. People were comfortable sharing their sorrows, joys and struggles once we took the initiative to be with them. We never conclude a house visit without praying for them. These were the times I was a person who was in training on how to pray depending on the need and circumstances.
I taught classes on a regular basis in the youth gatherings and catechism classes. Normally our catechism class was on Sundays and was famously known as Sunday School. In most of the evenings a few of the young people came to the Church compound and we played cricket there. Cricket is a game the English brought to India and later it became the national game of India. If there is a match going on between India and Pakistan, it was something like a war; and a defeat would be a disaster since many died of heart attacks or riots after it. Once in a while we broke the glass window of the house and got into trouble with the priest! The youth escaped the punishments because Brother Mathew was part of the problem! We had a great time afterwards going to the river and spending time swimming there.
Occasionally the priest allowed me to preach at the end of the Mass when I tried to show all my eloquence in a single speech. It was my mistaken belief that I had to “impress” the people with my Biblical knowledge in those occasions. Later, I developed the mature attitude of allowing God to work through me in those circumstances.
I was left alone in the house when the priest went for priest gatherings and other meetings. But I was comfortable talking and listening to so many, since there was a cemetery adjacent to the rectory. Those people were nice to me most of the time - unless there is a thunderstorm or lightning, which made me think that they were reacting to my presence. In those circumstances I did an extra prayer and made sure the doors were locked before I went to bed in case somebody had a bad experience with a priest or a seminarian while they were alive, and might want to scare me because of it!!
Part XII
It took some time for me to get back to the normal mood of studies after spending a year in the pastoral field devoid of all formal studies. I was more convinced about my vocation and confirmed in it when I spent time with the people in the parish. It is our practice to give the seminarians the traditional dress of priests, a white cassock, before starting the four year theology course. Since it was given normally by the bishop during a solemn Mass we could invite some of our close friends and family members. I was excited to receive my priestly dress together with my friends.
Our Theology Department was in its beginning stage as we were the second class starting theology there. Until then the priests of my diocese had been trained in different seminaries in India. The purpose of starting a new seminary was to deepen us in our own culture and tradition. We had a great sense of family belonging at St. Mary Malankara Major Seminary. Since the Catholic Church in India is blessed with priestly and religious vocations we have some Major seminaries with seven hundred and eight hundred seminarians. The seminary I studied at present has close to two hundred seminarians. In its beginning stage we had the fear of not having enough qualified professors. But some of our priests who were teaching in other seminaries came back to our seminary and brought their friends as visiting professors. Thus we were blessed to have the best professors as our teachers. My class had nineteen students and all who finished philosophy with me came back to the seminary. I really enjoyed my theology classes more than my philosophy classes. My initial intention to study theology was to collect materials for future homilies. Soon I realized that the role of the priest is more than just giving a Sunday homily. Theology is the science of God and I wanted to learn all about God before becoming a priest. It was not in the classrooms where I came to know God, but basically in the chapel where I created that intimate connection I needed to survive in my future priestly ministry. Morning meditation, Mass and other prayers remained an important part of our theological formation. Swiss theologian, Hans Urs Von Balthasar, remarked once that the Church has not canonized a dogmatic theologian saint for many centuries. A saintly man and a dogmatic theologian himself, he makes the self criticism, saying that those theologians sit down in a chair, read many books, make great reflections and write books; meanwhile they forget to kneel down and pray. It is true with priests and faithful alike: saints are born not out of study, but out of prayer.
I enjoyed my early morning half hour meditation. That was the first thing we did in the seminary. It began to change my understanding of prayer, also. I considered prayer as talking to God. When you talk to God it remains just like one-way traffic. In meditation we allow God to talk to us and we become listeners. In those intense moments of silence I communed with God and my prayer grew to the level of conversation. It is how every day I came to know what God’s will was for me - for that day and for the rest of my life. I try to continue to grow in that relationship even when I am faced with numerous challenges in my day to day life.
Part XIII
Theology helped me to mold my spiritual life when I tried to apply what I was learning in the class-rooms. We were allowed to go to an assigned mission parish on Sundays to help the priests. We spent the whole day visiting homes and teaching classes. This was also a welcomed relief from the routine life of the seminary, and I really enjoyed breathing some fresh air every week.
Besides studies we were involved with many other activities of social nature in the seminary. The Social Action Cell conducted regular programs to visit patients in the hospitals and nursing homes. My blood type is AB+, and when somebody with that blood group was in need of blood, I was excited to donate. I remember giving blood once, and few minutes later I fell unconscious to the floor and my friends had to take me to the Emergency room! I was there for a few hours and the doctors gave me an IV to help me regain my strength. It became sensational news in the seminary, and they fabricated many stories…such as they had to give me more blood than I gave, and that I was saying the Lord’s Prayer every ten minutes. I allowed them to enjoy and exploit the situation at my expense. I was in charge of a stationary store in the seminary run by the Social Action Cell. I had to go to the big store in the market and buy items like pens, pencils, and paper to be sold in our store. The profit from this sale added to the income of SAC.
A few of my friends helped me in another project which became an income generating project for SAC. We started an ironing unit, and the ‘lazy’ priests and seminarians gave all their clothes to us to iron. Sometimes we were overwhelmed with work when many in the seminary thought they were doing something good for SAC by giving their clothes to the ironing unit. It was very difficult to iron the cassocks of the priests. We also formed a prayer group with the ironing unit and prayed during the recreation time once a week. It may sound silly to you, but we enjoyed it when we gathered just to pray for the people whose clothes we were ironing. I am not sure how many blessings they received when they wore the clothes we ironed, but we were blessed because of the goodness it generated in us.
I loved playing basketball, and the courts got filled very quickly. Seminarians are not a nice group of people when it comes to playing games! I always wanted to go to the first court, as it was known, since going to the other ones may cost you your life. When the bells ring to end the last class in the afternoon we all rushed to change clothes to get to the court in time. Eventually, when it became harder to get a place in the first court, some of us went to the last class by wearing the clothes for the game under our regular clothes (which was not actually permitted). I am sure God forgave all those sins as we behaved better in the first court than those who played in the other ones.
Part XIV
It was in my second year of theology that I came across the Focolare Movement through one of our professors who came back from Rome after his studies. He encountered this movement there and thought of applying those spiritual principles in our saturations. He had been my spiritual father and was my philosophy teacher for a short time before going to Rome. The Focalare Movement was founded by Chiara Lubich in 1943 and is present today in 182 nations and reaches over five million people (http://www2.focolare.org/en). We used to gather in his room once a week to share the Word of Life for that month. A scriptural passage was selected for each month and we tried every moment to live that passage. When we gathered in the room we shared how we tried to live the Word. I experienced a real transformation happening in my life when I really tried to live the Word of Life. It made the studies easier. It made the games friendly because whenever there was a conflict I could resolve it thinking of the Word of Life. It made all my relationships healthier because of the Word of Life. I remember one of my friends sharing a simple act with profound joy. The hinges in the doors of our rooms made creaky noise and everyone complained about it, but nobody cared to do anything about it. That month, after reading the Word of Life, he went around and oiled those hinges without anybody noticing it. We always looked for opportunities to live the Gospel and a life in Christ seemed enjoyable.
The priest asked us to be part of a group starting a movement for Children in living this Word. Some of us were already going to the parish where he was working. He named the movement Children for Unity. We translated the Word of Life into our language and distributed it to the children every month. Small units were formed in each parish with two adult leaders who also received formation to lead the children in living the Word of Life. I will elaborate on this when I write about my priestly life since I spent my three years of priestly ministry in India in one of the centers who formed children in this spirituality. I want to share just one experience the children shared with us on how they lived the Word for that month. After one of the gatherings in the church when they were waiting for their local bus to arrive to go home, they saw a poor man looking for food. They did not have anything to give him. Our children remembered the Word of Life and wanted to do something to live it for that moment. As a result they collected their bus fare together and bought bread for that man from a nearby shop, and then walked three miles to their homes. This is a profound spiritual experience. Jesus comes to life in their action and even sharing this goodness affected many of the lives of other children. Parents came to us asking what instructions we were giving them because the children seemed entirely different after they started coming to our gatherings. Another important factor to notice here is that nobody who tried to live the Word of Life went around saying “I am doing this to live the Word of Life.” It is done almost silently, and once you start doing this on a regular basis it becomes part of your nature, and thus every moment become a holy moment for you.
Part XV
A memorable event in my life at the beginning of my theology study was the death of my former Archbishop Benedict Mar Gregorios. He had been the Archbishop of my diocese for forty one years. He had become a familiar face in India, especially in Kerala since he was heavily involved with many social activities. Many people were inspired by his social activities as he adopted many ways to uplift the poor. He also expanded the mission work of the Church, and was instrumental in starting many mission parishes and numerous educational institutions. He died of cancer on October 10, 1994. There were nearly fifty thousand people attending his funeral. When we had our first year of training in the Archbishop’s house I saw him going to the chapel to pray at night, even after long travels. He was an inspiration to many. The Catholic Bishop Conference of India decided to have their general body meeting in our seminary in 1996. The bishops of India have their general body gathering once every two years. India has one of the largest bishops’ conferences in the Catholic Church with 159 dioceses and nearly 170 active bishops. It is a monumental task to conduct such a meeting in a place like seminary. Most of the construction had not been completed. One day the rector called me to his room and asked me to be the coordinator of arranging the gathering. I had no idea that sleepless nights were to follow when I happily accepted this responsibility. Based on the talents and tastes of the seminarians, we divided the seminarians into different groups and entrusted them with various responsibilities. I had to go through a whole set of files from the secretary of the bishop’s conference with the detailed needs of each bishop. Some of them were so humorous to read. One bishop requested a single room saying that he has the habit of snoring loud. Another one wrote that he wouldn’t mind sharing the room with a bishop, but make sure that he didn’t snore while sleeping.
We worked so hard for weeks and the bishops commented at the end that ours was a well arranged conference. Fr. Pat always makes comments to his friends that I know almost all the bishops in India and half of the bishops in the United States. Actually, because of this conference, I knew most of the bishops in India even when they didn’t know me. This was one of the best experiences I’ve had in my theological studies.
Part XVI
The final step before being ordained to the priesthood in my life was my ordination to the diaconate. In the Acts of the Apostles the deacons were selected to serve the people, especially on the table, so the Apostles can fully concentrate on the preaching of the Gospel. Now there are two types of diaconate in the Church – transitional and permanent. Our Deacon Jim is a permanent deacon. I was a transitional deacon, for six months. We continued our studies even after becoming deacons, as we had to appear for the final exams and write a thesis paper before the priestly ordination.
We have the practice of sending our deacons to mission areas in different parts of India in order to instill in them a greater sense of the missionary activities of the Church, and also to acquire some practical knowledge for the future priestly ministry. This is also combined with touring different parts of India. I really enjoyed everything we did on this trip. Some of my friends went to the diocese of Ranchi in North India. Mission work in the Ranchi area was started by the Belgian missionaries in the early 1870’s and has grown so much to almost eleven dioceses from that initial mission work. The Archdiocese of Ranchi now has a Cardinal from their own tribal tradition. Eight of us went to the diocese of Chanda in the State of Maharashtra in Central India. It became a diocese of the Syro-Malabar Church in 1962, and the CMI fathers have done excellent work in bringing the Gospel to this area. It was just after Christmas in 1997 when we travelled to the Chanda diocese, and the two days of journey on the train was extremely enjoyable. We also had a few sisters who were working in Punjab in the other compartments of the train. We spent the time praying, playing, reading and planning our ordination. It was evening when we reached the bishop’s house in Chanda. The priests were extremely welcoming, and the Vicar General told us that he had arranged two places for us. But we had to decide for ourselves who was going where. He warned us that one place was an extremely difficult area, and the other one had the basic facilities. Four of us decided to go to the difficult area. We had to go that night since the sisters of that area were already there with a jeep to pick us up. It was not a happy journey to travel in the terrains of Maharashtra after two days on a train. But when we did things as a group, those difficulties became easy and enjoyable. I already began to feel the energy in the air and decided to fully utilize the rare opportunity given to us. By late night we reached Pattaguda, where we were to stay for few days. The priest in charge of the center was extremely good and helpful. There were four sisters from the Daughters of Mary congregation from our area. The priest and the sisters were from my state and there were no language barrier between us, even though the people spoke Marathi and few other local dialects. There was a small Church where the people of that village gathered for mass, and a home for the boys and a home for the girls. The sisters ran a dispensary for the people of the village and it seemed to us that they could cure any kind of disease there.
Part XVII
The villages we stayed in seemed primitive to us compared to the development in the other parts of the country. We humorously say that if we ask them who the prime minister of India is, they would probably say Indira Gandhi (who died in 1884). The missionaries who came there brought education and basic health care along with the Gospel. We stayed in that village for four days. Public transportation has not reached there at that time. A government run bus came to the village once in a while, and the jeep the missionaries owned was considered a luxury. There were nearly twenty-five students in each of the boys and girls homes who stayed there for their education. I don’t exactly remember all the details since I don’t have any written records of those visits. But my memory is still fresh with most of the events that took place during our stay. I love working with children and soon made friends with many of them. Language was a problem, but I had few tricks to get their attention. I could imitate the sounds of many animals and then showed them some simple magic tricks which I learned, to use in my catechism classes. They also taught us how to recite the Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary in their language. It is amazing to know that these sisters who only had the nursing training could cure people of all kinds of diseases. The main reason for the miraculous cures was the sisters’ dependence on God and the people’s trust in their ability to heal. But if any of the missionaries became sick, they had to take them to a good hospital which was far away from the village. We were told that the year before our visit, one of the young sisters died of jaundice on the way to the hospital because they couldn’t detect it earlier enough.
It makes one wonder what inspires these people to leave everything - their family, friends and all the comforts of life - to go to a remote area and dedicate themselves completely to the care of some unknown people. Love of Christ is their only inspiration, and those who really come to enjoy it may never look back or do anything else other than living for him. After seeing the work the priests and sisters were doing among those poor people, some other groups (from other religions) tried to imitate them. They couldn’t stay for long and abandoned the project, complaining the mosquitoes had no mercy on humans!
When I say these things, many might think that these missionaries are undergoing great suffering there. Actually it is just the opposite since they consider it a great privilege, and it seemed to me that they enjoyed every moment of it. This is the only thing they wanted to do, and the grace they radiate reminded me the words of St. Paul: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring the good news” (Rom. 10: 15). Even the people of the village who did not have the basic facilities of the modern society seemed happier than most people who have everything. What I had been seeing there began to influence me more than I thought. In the comforts of the classrooms I studied theology and philosophy. It remained as an intellectual exercise even when it helped me to grow. But in the poor villages of this area, I saw the Gospel being incarnated. We complained about the quality of the food in the seminary even when we didn’t labor for it. But in the village I saw that even after laboring for their food they did not have enough to eat. The Lord’s Prayer: “Give us this day our daily bread,” is something real when these people pray. It seemed to me that an agricultural society is closer to God than an industrialized one, since they need God’s help to make their labors fruitful.
Part XVIII
After four days in Pattaguda village, we moved to another village which was almost a day’s journey away. We stopped in a convent on our way and had lunch. Our journey reminded me of the instruction Jesus gave to his disciples when he sent them ahead of him: “He instructed them to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick--no food, no sack, no money in their belts” (Mark 6: 8). We didn’t even have a walking stick! I rejoiced in the fact that this was the way the Gospel reached many parts of the world. After walking through some hills and valleys, we reached our destination that evening. The villagers were excited to see us. It was one week after Christmas and they were having their Christmas mass that day. Because of the inability of the priests to reach all areas on Christmas day, some villages started celebrating Christmas before December 25th and some after it. They celebrated Easter and other holy days in the same manner.
I was very much affected by their simplicity and strong faith. These were first or second generation Christians. If we looked at the Acts of the Apostles, the characteristics of the first generation of Christians is well depicted there: “The community of believers was of one heart and mind, … they had everything in common. With great power the apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great favor was accorded them all” (Acts 4: 32-33). It became apparent to me from the way they sang, read the Scripture, and had the liturgy, just how much they enjoyed their Christian life.
The celebration of the Eucharist was entirely different than what we did in the seminary because of their special situation. It was rich with symbols from their daily life. The Mass was in one of the houses due to the lack of a local church. They used some of the traditional music instruments, and you could spend the whole day watching them play them. Eucharist becomes their life when the Eucharistic table is surrounded by everything they have - their kitchen, the crops of that year, their whole livelihood. Eucharist is their life, and their life becomes Eucharist in that altar. There is no difference between their life and the Eucharist: “If there is a dichotomy between our worship and our life, we have not worshipped well.”
After the celebration we had dinner together with the villagers. It was hard to find a place for all of us to sleep there. The sisters who came with us slept inside the house and we slept outside. I still remember it was a beautiful day with good weather.
We already knew that it would be a problem in the morning when we needed to answer nature’s call. Some of us woke up early to meet those needs. I was again reminded of a Scripture passage from Mark’s Gospel: “Rising very early before dawn, he left and went off to a deserted place…” (Mark 1: 35).
. Part XIX
After spending the night at that village we started our return journey to Pattaguda early in the morning. The villagers wanted us to stay there a few more days, but since we have had plans in other places we had no choice but to leave. The return journey was not as tedious as we thought, and by evening we reached our destination. I was not in a mood to do anything except find a place to sleep! The next morning we visited some other mission centers and schools run by the diocese. Even though we spent only few days in those villagers, it was hard for us to say good bye to them.
We rejoined our friends at the diocesan center who had gone to another location. We expressed our gratitude to the diocesan people who arranged to have such a wonderful mission experience for us.
Next on the agenda was to visit a few places in Delhi and Agra. We took the train to Delhi which was almost a day’s journey from Chanda. A few of our friends who went to Agra for their mission adventure joined us in Delhi. They also had lot of good things to share about their stay in the mission areas of that diocese.
Since there was no religious significance to the rest of the journey, I think it is irrelevant to give a detailed description here. But still it is worth mentioning the places we toured in Delhi and Agra. Delhi is a very crowded city like any other major cities in India. In 2006 there were nearly seventeen million people. In the local railway station you just have to be there when the train arrives in the station, you don’t have to walk - the crowd will carry you to the train! In the same way, when you want to exit the crowd will carry you out.
We visited some of the historic places such as Qutab Minar, India Gate and the Bhai Temple. Qutab Minar is the world’s tallest brick minaret (72.5 meters), built in A. D. 1193 under the orders of India's first Muslim ruler Qutb-ud-din Aibak. The India Gate is a national monument, one of the largest war memorials in India commemorating the 90,000 soldiers of the erstwhile British Indian Army. Following India's independence in 1947, India Gate became the site of the Indian Army's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, known as the Amar Jawan Jyoti (Immortal Soldier). The Bahai temple is shaped like a half opened Lotus flower and is a marvel of modern architecture. The temple represents the Bahai faith, and according to them, theirs is an independent world religion - divine in origin, all embracing in scope, broad in its outlook, scientific in its method, humanitarian in its principles, and dynamic in the influence. Two years ago I visited a Bahai temple in Chicago, also.
After seeing Delhi, we visited the city of Agra which is famous for the Tajmahal, but there is lot more to see than the Taj. The Taj Mahal was built by the Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan in memory of his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. The Taj Mahal is considered as the finest example of Mughal architecture, completed around 1653. When I was in Port Huron, the pastor put the sign “Tajmahal” above the garage to show my Indian identity. He was reluctant to heed my advice to remove it, even after me telling him that the Tajmahal is a tomb.
We returned to the seminary after fifteen days of an enjoyable experience, which remain with me even today as one of the best experiences of my life.
Part XX
The last few months in the seminary were exciting as well as hectic for us. We had to prepare for the final exam, arrange our ordination, and finish writing a thesis paper. I wrote a paper on the “Ecumenical Role of the Malankara Catholic Church.” In this paper I argued that my Church, as an Eastern Church in the Catholic communion, has a special role to play in ecumenical dialogues with all the Eastern Churches who are not in Catholic communion. These dialogues should be concentrated on what unites us all, rather than what divides us. Ultimately the uniting factor is Christ and we all are preaching the same gospel. Divisions in Christianity stand as a stumbling block to the preaching of the gospel and against the mind of Christ who prayed that we all may be one (John 17: 21). But at the same time we need to acknowledge the differences on various levels which should be respected in these dialogues.
I spent a few weeks before the final exams burning the midnight oil, preparing myself to unleash all my knowledge. We had to take a written exam in which three questions were drawn from a set of questions covering four years of theology study. Of the three questions we selected one, and wrote an essay for three hours. For the oral exam we had to appear before a panel of three professors and had to answer their questions for ten minutes each. Some of the professors were smart enough to ask questions they knew would make us give the wrong answers to. At this point of training, nobody wants you to fail since you are all ready to become a priest. At the same time it is the seminary’s responsibility to make sure that we all learned the important lessons to become a priest. I still remember one of the Scriptural questions I was asked from the gospel of Matthew. The professor asked me to connect the Emmanuel prophesy at the beginning of the gospel (1: 23), the promise of Christ that he would be with his disciples till the end of time at the end of the gospel (28:20), and the promised presence of Christ where two or three are gathered in his name at the middle of the gospel (18:20). All he wanted me to do was to explore the Christology of Matthew’s gospel and the need of Christians to lead a Christocentric life. I successfully survived all these ‘tests’ even though I prayed everyday: “Lord, do not put us to test.”
Before the graduation I went to each professor’s room and thanked them for their dedication to the Church in teaching us what we needed to know in order to be good priests. Then I asked them to give their blessing and each one of them put their hand on my head and blessed me. I considered it important to have the blessings of the teachers along with the knowledge they provided. Indian schools in ancient times were known as Gurukulams, meaning “houses of teachers.” A student left home, stayed with the teacher, and learned by serving him. The student observed everything the teacher did and then tried to put into practice those principles in his/her life. Thus I successfully completed my studies and graduated in March, 1997, from the seminary, and was getting ready to become a priest the following month in order to “transform the whole world” within few days!
Part XXI
My eleven years of seminary training was coming to an end. I was so excited about the endless opportunities the priestly life would be opening to me. At the same time it made me nervous to think about the prospect of starting everything anew. We attended a week long retreat in a nearby Pallotine house in preparation for our ordination. I had already begun to send cards to friends and families inviting them to attend the ordination and First Mass. When I was ordained we had the practice of conducting the ceremony in each one’s parish. Now it is conducted in the Cathedral of the Archdiocese. My ordination was in a nearby parish along with three other classmates of mine. I spent the three days before my ordination in prayer and silence in a friend priest’s rectory.
I was ordained a priest on April 4, 1997, by Archbishop Cyril Mar Baselios. It was a moving ceremony with so much symbolism and rituals coming from the ordination rite. It included the bishop cutting the hair of the candidate to show his renunciation of worldly fashion and esteem. His long instruction contained admonition to the duties and responsibilities expected of all those who aspire to do the work of the Lord. We were to take two solemn vows – the vow of chastity, and the vow of obedience. At the end we had to sign the document accepting everything by the sign of the cross.
The following day, April 5th, I offered my First Mass in my own parish. I had people attending from the neighbouring parishes and also from the parishes I used to visit to teach classes. I don’t want to exaggerate, but there were more than two thousand people attending the ceremony. It is normal to have so many people with this kind of celebration in our place when we have more than one billion people trying to do something every day.
There is nothing like an experience of offering the Mass for the first time. I was more emotional than I thought. The Archbishop gave an excellent homily on the role of priests in leading the people, and also the support (especially by prayer) the faithful need to give to their priests.
Immediately after the First Mass, there was a felicitation gathering in the Church. My former teachers from high school and seminary spoke, telling the crowd that ‘I was the best student they ever had and there will never be anybody like me again.’ (That was not what they said when I was a student!) People brought me all kinds of presents which made me think of getting ordained again. It was also an occasion for the whole family to come together.
This concludes the ‘unending saga’ of my seminary life. But I would like to end this summary with the concluding words of John’s Gospel: “It is this disciple who testifies to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true. There are also many other things that Jesus did, but if these were to be described individually, I do not think the whole world would contain the books that would be written” (Jn. 21: 25 – 25).
My Life as a Priest
Part 1
My ordination to priesthood on April 4, 1997, was the end of a long journey through the seminary training process, and the beginning of a more practical living process of a priest’s life. Christian understanding of history is linear in comparison to the Eastern Mystical religions’ understanding of cyclical. We have a beginning and an end and the ultimate end of all human beings is God. (In cyclical understanding your life goes through endless cycles until you attain liberation). St. Augustine speaks in his City of God of the dual citizenship of all Christians. Our earthly life is a preparation for our ultimate life with God. In the same way, I understood my seminary training just as a preparation for my life in the parish with the people.
We had a two months ‘honeymoon’ period before our appointment to a parish. I received many invitations from parishes I had worked before as a seminarian to offer my ‘first mass’ there. Mostly I received the same kind of praise and similar kind of presents. One of my professors from the seminary gave me a set of New Testament commentaries which I used extensively in preparing my homilies and classes in the three years of my priest life in India. I gave it to another young priest when I left for the United States. That priest passed away last year after his long years of teaching the seminarians. He was the one who spoke at my ordination representing the seminary.
Just like my friends, I was eager to know about my appointment to a parish. Unlike here we have small parishes and a priest might be in charge of several parishes. The priest is also in charge of the day-to-day affairs of the parish, like keeping the registry and issuing certificates. We also have traditional well-to-do parishes and mission centers. I was appointed assistant to a priest who had been a priest for more than twenty years. We were in charge of several mission centers. The priest was a very good and experienced person. Like any other young priest who wants to change the world within few weeks, I was ready to ‘rock and roll.’ I felt my ‘boss’ lacking in enthusiasm and energy. Later I found out that this was just a transitional period for him as he was expecting a ‘better’ appointment. Seeing my excitement he used to tell me: “Mathew, when I was your age I also showed much excitement, but eventually you will learn the lessons to quiet yourself down.” I still haven’t learned those lessons - and have become more ‘noisy’ than ‘quiet’!
A few months after the appointment, the auxiliary bishop and the secretary to the Archbishop stopped in by our rectory on their way to another parish. They suggested to this pastor that it would be better if we divided the responsibilities and give me the freedom to be in charge of three of the missions while he still could supervise me. He was happy to do that, and I was excited for some ‘adventures’ in my parish life with those mission stations.
Part 2
The work of the “Children for Unity” was something close to my heart, even when I was studying in the seminary. Since I have written several articles in the bulletin about this work in my previous articles, I will avoid a lengthy repetition.
As soon as I was appointed to this area my priest friends suggested the idea of starting a new house for the formation of the children from that area. We didn’t have money to buy a house or the land needed for this work. We also faced with the challenge of getting enough personnel for our work. But with God’s help we could overcome these obstacles.
We approached the superiors of the Daughters of Mary congregation with the intention of getting the help of two sisters to work with us. They were more than willing to be part of this mission work and promised to send two sisters soon. One of my parishioners was ready to rent out his house. We initially had ten middle school boys in the house. There were requests to take more, but because of the limitation of our facility, we couldn’t accommodate more. Soon this house became the center of activity for Children for Unity of that area.
I used to drive from another location to this house. As it became more difficult for me to manage the house from another place, I moved to a house in the area, too, which helped me to get involved with the day to day affairs of the house. We also had a seminarian helping us with the formation of the children. These children came from families of different parishes with the recommendation of the parish priest. Either they were financially poor or because of the family situations, were unable to pursue their education. Our intention in having them in the unity house was not only to give them an education, but also to make them grow in the spirituality of unity. According to Fr. Thomas Kulangara, the founder of this movement: “The goal of this movement is to impart an ongoing formation to children selected from the poorest families who have embraced the liberating gospel of Jesus Christ in recent years.”
Once we had the formation house our attention was diverted to start new units in the neighboring parishes. I contacted the parish priests of the area and conveyed the movement’s desire to open small unity groups in their parishes. If the parish priest showed interest in having a unit in his parish, then the members of the Children for Unity are selected from the age group of nine to fifteen. They are organized into a group of twelve children, each under the direction of two adult volunteers who serve as their animators. By the time I left in June 2000, we opened thirty three units in my region!
Part 3
Last week I was talking about how we started a house for the formation of the children. I will continue to speak about the work of the movement among children for few more weeks since it has greatly influenced my way of life, also.
‘Children for Unity’ envisages a conscientization program based on sharing the experiences of consciously living the Gospel of Christ. All its training programs are oriented to generating a new culture of sharing in the minds of children. Sharing with much love creates unity. Unity empowers the children to tread the path of integral progress.
The children included in the program came from families who were not only poor and socially backward, but also ridden with so many problems such as centuries-old-caste discrimination and consequent psychological complexes, drug addiction, and separation of the parents. This movement provided them with a new identity that they were all children of God, so much loved by the heavenly Father, and called to communicate this divine love to others. They were facilitated to grow in the consciousness that God had given them a mission to work whole heartedly for the unity and integral progress of so many brothers and sisters around them who were crushed under caste discrimination, and so many self-defeating and divisive tendencies.
Living the Word of Life was the basic methodology adopted for the formation of the ‘Children for Unity.’ Every month we took one sentence from the New Testament as the Word of Life for the month. A leaflet containing a brief meditation on the text with concrete suggestions regarding how to live it in our various life situations was given to every child. I was very attracted to this way of life ever since my gatherings with my friends in my seminary formation.
In the groups when the children gather in their parish, two hours every week, they shared how they tried to live the Word of Life in the previous week. The meeting started with a prayer/song which contained the theme of the movement, then they took attendance, collection of the money for Saving and Sharing Program (SSP - explained later), sharing of the Word of Life, the leaders taking class on a selected topic, and it concluded with some kind of service to their parish like cleaning or something else. The children were constantly reminded that the Word of Life is the presence of Jesus in us. By living the Word of Life in a collective way and sharing the experiences of living it with one another, there occurs a special presence of Jesus in each one of us. Thus Jesus became the element of Unity for the Children for Unity. It was the power of the Word that prompted us to go ahead in the path of Unity and Integral Progress.
Once a month the two animators/leaders of the Unity group came to the Unity House for training. We spent the whole day in prayer and teaching them new skills to train the children in their own parishes. They submitted a report of their unit and brought to our attention concerns they had in the formation of the children. Always the leaders left after the training class with renewed energy and enthusiasm.
Part 4
Concentrating our attention in the formation of our children is the greatest investment we could make. Jesus told his disciple: “Let the children come to me and do not prevent them” (Mt. 18: 16). We often prevent them from experiencing Jesus when we forget our responsibility in bringing them in the faith. I hear parents always saying that their children couldn’t go to Church because they have a soccer practice, swimming lesson, etc. It is a question of discerning which comes first. We all have a spiritual responsibility to them just like we try to give everything good material for their growth.
I have a heart for children and it was always fulfilling for me to spend time with them. Even when it seemed to me that they didn’t always get what I was trying to do for them, I believe that there will come a time when they reflect back to what I taught them and will start doing it again. Now I hear great stories from my friends about how grateful they are to us for what we have done to them when they were young.
Coming back to what I was doing with the children in ‘Children for Unity’ – I had ten children living with me in the house. This group we planned to develop as a model group for the groups in the parishes. Now there are nearly fifty children in the three Unity Houses. Their formation program includes daily practices of Yoga and meditation, prayer, study, gardening and special assistance to develop personal talents and skills. Above all they try to live the Word of Life and share their experience of living the Word on a daily basis. We woke up every morning 5:15 to practice yoga from 5:45 AM to 6:10 AM. It was followed by Morning Prayer and Holy Mass. Then the children went to the regular school.
In each center we had a Service Team dedicated to the formation of the children. I was coordinating the work of one of the three centers Faith Sharing, and there were a few more priests, sisters, a seminarian and lay ministers involved in the work of the service team. The members of the service team visit the unity groups and the families of these children regularly in view of motivating them and getting their feedback. We also organized programs such as classes and discussions for parents and guardians of the children. On a regular basis, after fixing a date, I visited the various units and met with the parents in their parishes. It was always gratifying to hear how much the children benefitted from these programs through the work of ‘Children for Unity.’ I was always met with demands to take more children in as parents got interested after watching the perceptible change in the life of the other children. But we tried to keep the groups in a multiple of twelve. If there are more children from the same parish joining the movement, the only possibility was to start a new unit with two leaders.
Part 5
We also conducted camps for the units at the center. These gatherings consisted of three units (thirty children) for two days. The children came to the center on a Saturday morning and stayed there until Sunday afternoon. We had this program going every weekend, except when we had the leaders meeting. This was a time for the children to get to know each other and share their experiences. I got more compliments from the parents after their children attended these gatherings than any other event of the movement. It has brought a great sense of satisfaction to us to know how much the Word of Life can transform the lives of these children when it is practiced on a day-to-day basis.
The children from these units were encouraged to write letters to the Unity Center. These letters contained how they lived the Word of Life that month, and what were the areas they had to concentrate on in order to improve. We always replied to these letters with words of encouragement. During the summer months we conducted intensive training programs. These programs could be through our regular unity camps or sometimes just to give special concentration to improve their educational skills.
Another significant event which needed time and talent from us was our Christmas gatherings. This was the time when all the units of one center came together. I could always sense the energy and enthusiasm in the air when these children got excited in being part of this movement. These yearly gatherings were always in a park or a similar kind of place where we had cultural programs of the units, meals together, and had Christmas presents for our children and leaders.
One of the specific goals of the entire program was to give some sort of vocational or professional training to every child included in the Children for Unity. Almost 90% of the parents of our children had received no professional training or formal education. As a result they remain unskilled and unemployable workers. This was the root cause of their poverty and economic backwardness. They needed to be motivated to do their best to ensure that their children obtained a professional education so that they could become economically self-reliant. At the same time they were economically poor and unable to do this vocational training of their children. Our goal was that every one of our children, after their normal schooling, should obtain professional training. With this view in mind we created the Saving and Sharing Program. For this we encouraged all our children and their parents to save small amounts of money regularly. We promised them we would provide help from our part for professional education of the children.
The apostolate of Children for Unity is primarily a conscientization program geared to the missionary formation of the children. It purports to empower the children and their parents towards self-help, and sharing their means with others. The missionaries involved in the apostolate rendered their services without any expectation of monetary remuneration.
My three years of priestly ministry in India was involved with this program, and at the same time I was in charge of some parishes. I will write a few more articles on my regular parish work in the coming weeks.
Part 6
In the last few weeks I have been writing about my ministry in the formation of young children. My three years with the “Children for Unity” was greatly rewarding. As I said in one of the first articles, it was my intention to “change the whole world” within a few years of my ministry! I had no idea what was waiting for me when I ignored my physical health in the process of “transforming the world.”
The normal transportation method for most of the young priests was a motor bike. It was less expensive, economic in its use, and more convenient for our roads than a car. My ministry had become a “motor bike ministry” soon after I bought the bike.
In the seminary we have a disciplined and orderly life. I played basketball every day besides getting involved with other activities at the seminary. Just after one year of my ministry I became severely sick with my bilirubin count going very high. I don’t want to elaborate on the exact nature of the sickness, since my medical knowledge is poorer than many of my readers. Later I found out that it was normal for me to have a high bilirubin count. I had become very tired and was losing my appetite, so I sought medical advice and was told to rest for few weeks. I reluctantly moved to a house for priests closer to the Medical College in case I needed further treatment. My condition worsened while I was there and I had to be admitted to the Medical College Hospital in Trivandrum. Word spread among friends that a young priest was dying. I also got the impression that I would die soon since there was no improvement in the situation.
My mother came to take care of me at that time, and she spent a few weeks with me. In my observation a priest’s mother thinks that her son is the best priest in the world, and he is destined to become a bishop, if not the Pope. A few years ago I read in the Michigan Catholic that Cardinal Maida’s mother, in her old age, was afraid that her son would become the Pope and she would lose him! My mother was happy to spend the time with me, and by the time I was well again she was convinced that I hadn’t changed a little bit from my childhood years, and was convinced that I would remain as ordinary as I was! Now she prays for the ‘poor people’ of the parish where I am doing my ministry!
I later heard that in one of the convents the sisters said a prayer which was actually for the prayer for a deceased priest! Most of my visitors sympathized in seeing a young priest dying before even starting his ministry. But as you all know now, I didn’t die! I am greatly indebted to the prayers of many people in recovering from this ‘near death’ experience, and also of the constant care of a few sisters who were in charge of the Clergy House at that time.
I am aware that this explanation about my sickness lacks clarity, but I would like to keep it that way. It took several more years for me to regain my normal health, and now I try to lead a disciplined life because of that experience. It was my mistaken belief that I didn’t have to ‘worry’ about my body as long as I am doing God’s work. From this experience I learned that we need to take care of the body to be effective in our ministry to the people of God. I have not been hospitalized since, except when I got the chicken pox four years ago, just before coming to St. Thomas a’Becket.
Part 7
One day, in my third year of priestly ministry, I went to see my Archbishop to request his help with the construction of the churches we were doing in our area. I had another young priest come along with me who was working with me at that time. The Archdiocese financially supported the construction in the mission areas. We were running into difficulties as our resources ran out quickly. I kept repeating in my conversation with the Archbishop that we needed more money, and he just kept smiling! Then he asked me whether I had a passport, and when I replied in the negative he asked me to get one soon. My curiosity increased and I asked him whether it is necessary to have a passport to continue the construction of the Church? He told me that I don’t have the vocation to complete that construction. Instead he had decided to send me to the United Sates to ‘build’ something else. There is a small Indian community who belongs to our Church (Malankara Catholic) who were asking for a priest to take care of their spiritual needs. Since this community is not in a position to support a priest financially, he wrote to Cardinal Maida who agreed to appoint the priest in a parish of the Archdiocese of Detroit. My full time ministry would be in the Archdiocesan parish, and offer mass and other spiritual services for the Indian community on Sundays.
I was not prepared for such ‘shocking’ news, even though I had expressed my desire to the bishop before that I was interested in continuing my studies. Normally priests who would be continuing the theological studies are sent to any of the Catholic Universities in India or Rome. I was expecting something along that line. He told me that he was going to Bangalore for a Bishop’s Conference and would talk to me later about the details. I told him I would give my reply when he came back. He said there was no question of giving my consent, as he had already sent my name in and I would be doing some studies, also. I was relieved to hear that his purpose in sending me to the United States included studies. This conversation happened towards the end of March 2000 and I had to do all the necessary paperwork to get a religious visa soon. He also told me that he would be travelling to the US at the end of July to attend the Malankara Catholic Convention in Philadelphia, and if I got the visa before the convention we could travel together. I was more worried about leaving the Boys Home and the construction of the Church to the next priest than getting a visa.
I did not want the people to know this news early, so I purposely published the news on April 1st. The news spread fast in my parish, but later they realized that it was just typical “April fool” news. What the people did not know that I was fooling them with real news on April Fool’s Day! But at the same time I moved quickly to get a passport and replied to all the letters I received from the Archdiocese of Detroit. Soon I began to dream about my future ministry to the people of the parish where I would be working, and the area of studies I might be venturing into…..
Part 8
In order to work in the Archdiocese of Detroit, I needed to get a religious visa from the American Consulate in Chennai (Madras). Today the applicant has to fill out the papers online and then pick an appointment date from the available dates. But in June 2000, when I was applying for the visa, we appeared before an interviewer to get a visa. If you are denied the visa for some reason, you could reappear only after six months, as there was no question of arguing with the emigration officer. If you missed any necessary documents, they may tell you to produce that document and then get the visa. I heard that at that time there were at least six hundred applicants everyday in the Chennai Consulate alone, waiting to be interviewed for a visa. It was the time of heavy exodus from India to the United States when all those who graduated with an engineering or nursing degree wished to come and work here. I mentioned earlier that the reason for my coming was the request from an Indian community to have a priest of their own to continue their liturgical traditions. The reason for selecting me was also to get a higher education from one of the universities here.
Chennai is nearly five hundred miles from my town, Trivandrum. I booked a train ticket and called my friend priests there for accommodation. These priests are used to taking care of the visitors to the consulate and did it as a service to the Church. They were good in giving directions to those who appeared for an interview there. If asked, I was told to tell the officer that this was for a short time, and I would be coming back to India as soon as the term of my visa expired. The Archdiocese of Detroit was sponsoring me, would be taking care of my needs, and was in “grave” need for a “wonderful” priest like me! I was not supposed to mention anything about studies because the primary purpose of my coming was religious and not educational. Tom Freedman, in his book The World is Flat, tells a story of a Chinese student who appeared for an interview in the American Embassy in China for a student visa, and was asked why he needed to study in the United States. He replied that he would be able to cure his mother’s ‘incurable illness’ once he became a doctor in the US. The officer felt sorry for him and granted his wish. When the news became public, every student who applied for a visa had the same problem: they all made their mothers gravely ill! I did not have any of these problems and would have been equally happy if I were denied a visa.
I had the letter from Cardinal Maida with me to show the officer that I was being appointed pastor at St. Robert Bellarmine parish in Redford, and as soon as I got a visa I would be in charge of the parish. (I really did not see this Church until I was invited to do a daily mass after coming to St. Thomas… that story will come later.) According to the letter, my “duties and responsibilities will include, but not limited to, delivering sermons, conducting baptismal, wedding and funeral services, visiting the sick, shut-ins and poor, and counseling those in spiritual need.”
I was in the consulate gate before dawn and there were at least three hundred people already in the line. I was not only surprised, but began to worry that I might have to come back if it didn’t move fast enough. Many more people joined the line, but I got inside before 9 AM. The interviewer did not ask me many questions, except what was the purpose of me coming to the US. I told him that I was coming here to do religious work. I think that he was very much impressed with me, knowing that I would be transforming the whole United States to Christ within few months!! He told me that my visa application had been approved and I would get the passport with the visa by mail within few days. That was just the beginning of a memorable journey in my life.
Part 9
My parishioners were not as excited about my journey to the United States as I was. I tried to philosophize my departure from them by telling them that we are not permanently anywhere, especially here on earth. Our stay here is for a short time and the more we get attached to people, places and things, the more difficult it becomes for us to leave. Once we realize the transitoriness of our life, it is easy for us to let things go. My homilies on this subject didn’t help them very much since they wanted me to stay there.
There was a convention of the Malankara Catholics (Catholics from our area who immigrated to the United States) going on in Philadelphia at the end of July 2000. My Archbishop was travelling from Trivandrum to attend this gathering. He told me to book my flight on the same flight as his, since I was flying to the United States for the first time. I booked a flight to New York on Kuwait Airlines. There was another senior priest who came along with us who was also going to the United States to see his friends and family.
We had a short flight from Trivandrum to Kuwait. I spent five hours listening to the priest who was sitting in the next seat. He talked non-stop about the adventures he had in his life as a priest, and he wanted me to try some of those adventures in my life, too. Since there was a generation gap between us, I wanted to tell him that he was testing my patience; and since he was not my mother, I didn’t want to listen to him that intently or patiently!
We arrived at the Kuwait Airport that evening and were transported to a nearby hotel where we were to stay that night. I was a little relieved when the priest turned his attention to the Archbishop. We had dinner together at the airport hotel and then went to sleep. I slept in the same room as my priest friend, and the Archbishop was in another room. My friend kept talking on the phone to all his friends in Kuwait as they were apparently insisting that he stay with them on his journey back. I believe he agreed to their request.
We had another stop in the Frankfurt Airport, but it was a short stay. Our flight ended in our final destination at JFK airport in the evening. I enjoyed my view of New York City from the plane, as it was completely lit up. There were a few priests, nuns, and lay faithful from our community at the Airport to receive the Archbishop. The immigration agent asked me several questions, as if I was there to steal something! I wanted to tell him “I am a more important person than you think!” but if I told him something like that the St. Thomas a‘Becket parishioners may not have had the opportunity to meet me. I didn’t want to deny you that opportunity!
In New York, I was just like a kid in the candy store - there was so much to do and see that I didn’t know what to do first or how to get there. I instantly felt handicapped trying to find my way around in New York. If I didn’t know how to get around in New York, how would it be possible for me to lead people to heaven!? Fortunately there were people there who took care of us. I was taken to an Indian house and stayed with another priest friend of mine. This was just the beginning of my adventurous life in the United States.
Part 10
At that time, the priest coordinator for our community was working in the diocese of Trenton. I had to spend a few days with him before the convention, which started at the end of July, 2000. He confessed to me that he told the Archbishop not to send me when he saw my picture and other documents, but after seeing me he changed his mind. This was just the first of many such ‘rejections’ I would be facing in the months ahead.
There were nearly six hundred people from all parts of the United States attending the convention at Villanova University in Philadelphia. Everything was new to me and everyone was a stranger to me. I had no idea what kind of English they were speaking. The children who are born here spoke one kind of English, and the parents spoke another one. Nobody understood mine either! When I was introduced to people as the new priest sent to Detroit, they were not that thrilled. Two of our young priests had left the priesthood a few months before the convention after working here for three years. This incident made the people request that the Archbishop not send young priests anymore. When they realized that I was only twenty nine years old, they thought that I was in the process of leaving, too. I still remember the Archbishop telling those who complained to him about selecting me that it was just because they didn’t know me. He also made the remark “if he wants to leave, let him leave.” His trust and confidence strengthened my resolve to be faithful to my vocation. There were many other young priests who came after me to study and work here, too, and they all remain in the priesthood.
There were a few families from Detroit who came for the convention and they were happy to drive me to Detroit. It didn’t seem to be a long drive for me since I had already enjoyed my first “road trip” experience. I also had my first “fast food” experience in America!
The dedication of the community was planned for August 6, 2000 at St. Kenneth in Plymouth. I was staying with an Indian family in Sterling Heights until my Archbishop came to Detroit. That Sunday afternoon we had a mass at St. Kenneth and then the Archbishop dedicated the new parish for the Indian community. We were to gather at St. Kenneth until the Archdiocese assigned a priest for worship here. Bishop Leonard Blair, the auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese at that time, paid a courtesy visit to my Archbishop since the Cardinal was away at that time.
The priest at St. Kenneth was not in need of an associate at that time. It was just a temporary arrangement since the pastor at St. Robert Bellarmine, who asked for another priest, was reassigned somewhere else by the time I came here, and the new priest didn’t want an associate. I didn’t know that I would be in ‘limbo’ for almost a month. The Indian community thought I was going to be all right there, and my Archbishop also left with the impression that I was in safe hands. After I bade farewell to the Archbishop as he left the Detroit airport, I went to the restroom and cried for a while, feeling that I was left alone in this land! I didn’t know at that time that what Jesus had promised to his disciples would literally come true in my life:
“And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters
or father or mother or children or lands for the
sake of my name, will receive a hundred times more”
(Matthew 19: 29)
Part 11
During my one month stay at St. Kenneth I offered mass with the priest there, and learned the basic liturgical practices. I had been given the faculty to do services in the Latin Rite, also. People who came to the daily mass were very nice to me, knowing that I came there straight from India.
It was challenging for me to figure out how to do so many things, especially getting used to American food. I watched others ordering and when I didn’t know how to say what I wanted, I would just say “I want the same thing,” but would end up getting the wrong meal. There were days when I would eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It tasted good when you were hungry! I began to explore the surrounding city and found out that there is was a McDonald’s nearby, and I went there whenever I was desperate for a good meal. I thought that was the best meal you could get in America! I liked their system because I didn’t have to know the names of the food items - I just say a number and within minutes ‘something’ is given to you!
Fr. Paul Burg was the weekend assistant at St. Kenneth at that time. He was the philosophy professor at Sacred Heart. He was an energetic and enthusiastic priest even though he was 80 years old. Since then we’ve developed a good relationship, and I used to write to him until he passed away last year. He took me out for dinner when he came to do the Saturday vigil masses. Knowing that I was close to the Focolare Movement, he subscribed the Living City magazine. He also paid my first few installments of my tuition at Oakland University until the Archdiocese helped me with that. He was a holy priest and I was fortunate to know him in my life.
One day the pastor of St. Kenneth took me to the Archdiocesan office to meet the Moderator of the Curia, Msgr. John Zenz. He was very kind and compassionate to me from our first introduction. I did not know at that time that I was meeting a person who would influence my life in such a positive way (after my parents and the former Archbishop Baselios.) He told me that he was contacting many priests who might need an associate. Priests normally are not willing to take a priest who is from another country unless they are sure about their language skills and theological formation. (Later, when I got to know Fr. Stan Wyczawski (who had graciously taken me in), he told me that Msgr. Zenz had called at least twenty priests before talking to him.) Msgr. Zenz had even paid me one month’s salary before I even had been assigned place to work! I had tears in my eyes when I left Msgr. Zen’s office, but was reluctant to give up and accept defeat.
I spent that whole month watching television, reading some books besides doing my daily mass and prayers. I start doing mass every Sunday in the afternoon for my small Indian community. I was reluctant to tell them that I was eating cereal every day, but eventually they came to know about that. Then I began to get Indian food, but by that time I was ready to move to the place where I had been assigned.
Msgr. Zenz called me at the end of August 2000 to tell me that he talked to Fr. Stan Wyczawski, the pastor at St. Mary, Port Huron, who was looking for an associate. That news gave me great joy and relief. Now I had a place to go and a parish to work. The pastor at St. Kenneth was gracious enough to take me to see the place before I officially started living there.
Part 12
It was on the day before Labor Day in 2000, a few members of the Indian community drove me to St. Mary, Port Huron. I had been to Port Huron once before when the priest from St. Kenneth drove me there to show me the place. Fr. Stan Wyczawski then gave me a tour around Lake Huron and the St. Clair River. I thought it was a beautiful place when we drove underneath the Blue Water Bridge, connecting United States and Canada. He talked nonstop, half of which I really didn’t understand. But I pretended as if I understood everything, and laughed at every joke since he started laughing before finishing the jokes.
On my first day in Port Huron, he took me to a house for dinner which I enjoyed very much. After bidding farewell to that family he took me to many houses around the lake, all of whom were very welcoming. I soon realized that those were his ‘favorite people’ and he was really trying to make me happy and feel at home.
The next day was the first day of school. St. Mary had an elementary school and there was another Catholic grade school close to our Church. Now the grade school had been relocated to St. Mary property. Since my three years of priestly ministry in India were with children, the sight of children and the presence of a school really delighted me. Fr. Stan took me through the classrooms and introduced me to the children. When they heard that I was from India, some of them thought that I was American Indian (Native American) and few others thought that I was from Indiana!
I lived briefly with Fr. Stan in his rectory, and then he told me that there was a house nearby that I would be moving to as soon as it was cleaned up. The house he lived in was actually for one person with a guest room and a bathroom outside of the room. The second day of my stay I woke up early in the morning and after washing, came back to my room and found it was locked! I realized that I had locked myself out since I was not used to the ‘lock system’ there. I really didn’t want Fr. Stan to see me half naked in my Indian pajamas (lungi). But there was no way I could get in without his help. He began to laugh seeing me that way - but I didn’t think it was that funny! He had no key for the room either. So he got a hammer to break the door. Then he asked me whether I knew the American expression: “pain in the a_ _…”. and I said “No.” He again asked me whether I knew what “pain” was. I said “Yes”, then he pointed to his bottom and told me another name for it in America, and said “Mathew, I think you are going to be a ‘pain in the a_ _.” I was horrified! I told him that priests never say such things in India. He told me that these were universal realities and he was teaching me some of the basic things I should know in order to survive here. I had no idea what else he had in store to teach me!
Fr. Stan also took me every evening to some of the finest restaurants in Port Huron, and we continued the ritual of visiting a few families in the parish. Even when our visits were unannounced, the people we visited were very welcoming. I also suggested to him that we pray together in the evening, and we continued that tradition until I moved into the new house.
Part 13
Deckerville is a small town, forty five miles north of Port Huron. Fr. Stan had a house there where he used to go on his day off. In my first week with him he took me to Deckerville to show me his house, and help him rearrange everything to get ready for the winter. Once we were there he showed me how to operate the lawn mower and asked me if I could help him cut the grass. He watched me doing it for some time and then he went into the house to work. He must have expected me to finish it quickly, and after not seeing me for three hours he came looking for me. I was still working, trying to impress him with all my grass-cutting skills. I wanted to prove that his new associate knew not only how to do mass, but all kinds of manual work. But I could read his mind from the expression on his face that he was not happy with what I was doing. By the time he came out I was half way through cutting his neighbor’s grass!! I still haven’t paid him back for the gas I used! Now it’s too late, since he passed away two years ago (that story later). It was the end of my ‘grass-cutting career’ - he was reluctant to take me back to Deckerville after that!
On our way back home I had an argument with Fr. Stan about the ethnicity of God. He told me, “Mathew, your pastor is Polish, your Cardinal is Polish (Maida), your Pope is Polish (John Paul II), and so is God.” I told him God is an Indian since he needed a lot of patience to put up with the Polish! Needless to say, our argument remained unresolved.
I hadn’t started driving yet at that point, so Fr. Stan arranged for a parishioner to teach me how to drive. He spent hours teaching me how to drive here and there, and after few weeks I was ready for the driving test. I was good in everything except parallel parking, but was embarrassed to tell everyone that I had my first test. After that I prayed The Lord’s Prayer even harder, giving special emphasis to the part about “Lord, do not put us to the test.” It was exciting for me to have my first car, a Ford Taurus, and I drove around Port Huron to show everyone that I had a new car; but I soon realized that nobody was looking at me or my car. I was not happy that the people were ignoring me!
Fr. Stan asked me to teach religion at McCormick Catholic Academy, the grade school of Port Huron’s churches. The first time I drove to the school I missed the exit from the highway, and after three attempts I came back to St. Mary frustrated. It was just the beginning of many ‘deviations’ I would be experiencing in my ‘driving career’ in America.
Fr. Stan also taught me all the possible bad words in the English language, and told me that I should know them since some of the kids might occasionally use these words. But in my three years in Port Huron I never heard a single student using any bad words against me or against their friends in my presence. I told the students that I knew all the bad words, and they wanted to know whether I had a course in the seminary on “bad words” before coming to the US. I told them we were taught only ‘holy stuff’ in the seminary, and the world taught me worldly things. The principal and the staff were very good to me as well as the students. Most often they had questions about India and the priest’s life more than any religious matters. It was also a challenge for them and for me since I hadn’t yet start speaking “American.”
Part 14
St. Mary Church had a house which was rented out to a family. Fr. Stan told me that I would be moving into that house as soon as the family moved out. One day he took me to the house to show me the inside. It had two rooms upstairs besides a large living room, kitchen, and a prayer room in the downstairs. The inside of the house looked as if the Kurushetra Battle had taken place there. (The Kurushtra Battle is a legendary battle between Kauravas and Pandavas from the Indian epic of Mahabharata).
When the family moved out, a group of men and women came marching to the house after receiving their orders from Fr. Stan to clean the house. They had all kinds of cleaning equipment and I also joined ‘the band’ to help them. After hours of work the house looked far better with a new look and a fresh smell. Fr. Stan asked one of the parishioners who made signs to make one for the house so that people could recognize my house. The next day the sign “Tajmahal” appeared. Fr. Stan was reluctant to heed my repeated requests to come up with a better sign even after my explanation of the story behind the construction of one of the wonders of the world. Tajmahal is a tomb that king Shajahan built for his beloved wife Mumtas Mahal. He told me in that case it is a sign of the love St. Mary parishioners had for me. I was happily confined in that “tomb” for three years.
When the house was ready for me to move in Fr. Stan told me, “Mathew, the honeymoon is over, you are moving out.” I didn’t like the choice of words, but I didn’t react since associates have no rights, according to the Canon Law (except for a Christian burial!) I pretended that I was not happy to move out of his house, even when the opposite was the truth. I was excited that I could do whatever I wanted in my new house, including walking around in my Indian pajamas! People were very generous in buying things for the new house. I called all my friends in India and shared my joy with them, and told them they could come and stay with me if they came to the United States.
One day, just before the lunch, the Bookkeeper of the parish, Sue McDonald, told me: “Fr. Mathew, I don’t want to ruin your lunch, so come talk to me after lunch.” I knew instantly that I had done something wrong, or maybe the Immigration Department had called her to deport me back to India! I found out later when she gave me the phone bill of my house for that month what the problem was - it was more than $800!! The office staff suspected that I had too many girl friends in India and was still trying to keep up all those relationships! It turned out that I didn’t sign up for an “international calling plan” when I asked for the new connection, and so the calls I made automatically went to a line which charged more than four dollars per minute. It was a big learning lesson for me, and I realized that not everyone in America was as nice as I thought! Poor Sue spent hours on the phone for me, talking to the phone company, and finally it was reduced to $300. I was very relieved that she saved me from taking up a second collection at church that weekend to pay my phone bill.
Part 15
My attempts to begin studies for the fall semester ended up initially in frustration. I met with people at the Admissions Department of St. Clair Community College in Port Huron. It was my intention to start my studies as soon as possible since my visa was only for three years, which could be extended for two more. According to the rules, I could stay in the United States with my religious visa for only five years. I need to go back to India and stay there at least a year and then apply for the visa, or I have to apply for a green card. In my situation I was sent here for four years.
I went to the community college in Port Huron to explore the possibility of joining the English Program there. When I told them that my intention was to go for a Masters in English, the person I spoke to told me that she was a good student and she didn’t even try to go for a Masters, especially in English, since it was very difficult. I wanted to tell her that her failure had nothing to do with my intention to study; but again, there was no point in arguing with a person who didn’t understand your feelings and needs. She instructed me to go to the Jefferson Adult Learning Center in Port Huron, which was not too far from the community college. I went to the Center to register for classes, but I soon realized that it was a place where they teach just the basics of English for the students who came from other countries to the United States with no background in English. So I went back to the Port Huron community college again and met with another admissions officer. This time I was asked to take a computer test which allowed me to register for English 075.
Prof. Suzanne Moore was the instructor for that course. She was an excellent teacher, and after my first assignment (which was to write an essay on Martin Luther King), she told me what I was waiting to hear from a teacher there: “Fr. Mathew, I don’t think that you belong here. You need to go to a university.” She also asked me to take a few courses at the community college to familiarize myself with the American system. I also needed recommendation letters when I applied for the graduate program in a university, and the teachers would be able to write one for me once I took a course with them. Eventually I took three more courses at the community college - on Communication, Introduction to Computer, and Introduction to German.
Prof. Suzanne Moore recommended Oakland University as a possible graduate school for me and told me that she knew about a good teacher there, Prof. Kathleen Pfeiffer. Prof. Pfeiffer would later become one of my favorite teachers. I will explain my attempts to get into Oakland University later.
When some of my friends found out that I played basketball in the seminary, they wanted to start a basketball team at the church. Dr. Dale Sweeny was the one who took the initiative. Since he was a dentist, most of the basketball players were his dentist friends. Because of Dale, I had to become ‘partly Irish’ and he still considers me his brother. In the beginning, the basketball group was a wild one, but eventually it became a good group of friends playing together and having fun on Wednesdays. We started the custom of going out for a drink after playing, and spent some time together. I really enjoyed this until one Wednesday, when my friend Dale was absent, they took me to “Hooters.” That was the first and last time I have ever been to a “Hooters.” You can just imagine what would happen if some parishioners saw me there! I would have made up a story that I was searching for the lost sheep of St. Mary’s Church! And then I would have driven to another priest for confession before doing anything in the church again.
Part 16
Just before I had been at St. Mary, Port Huron, for three months I received an invitation from one of my friends from my diocese to visit Rome and join the members of the Malankara Catholic Community who were celebrating the Jubilee Year in Rome with the Pope. All our bishops, many priests, sisters and nearly three hundred faithful from all over the world were to attend this gathering. I was reluctant to ask Fr. Stan since I had just come to the parish to work. My friends in Rome were insisting that I should not pass up this opportunity and they would do anything to make this happen. We planned an ingenious ‘plot’ to convince Fr. Stan that I should make this trip. My friend, Fr. Varghese Kaithon, who was doing his Licentiate in theology there, sent a fax to St. Mary saying that my bishop wished me to join our community in Rome to celebrate the jubilee, and my friends would share the expenses. As planned, I made Fr. Stan get the fax before I did and he came to me with the fax exclaiming: “Mathew, look at this - if you don’t go, I will.” I politely told him I was not planning to go but, since he insisted, I was happy to make this pilgrimage! (I will be paying for all this trickery when I meet him in Heaven!)
The Rector of the Damasceneo Collage in Rome was willing to give me a letter of recommendation to get a visa from the Italian Consulate in Detroit. Once I had the visa I booked a ticket to Rome through Northwest Airlines. Meanwhile the founding pastor of St. Mary Church, Fr. William Welsh passed away that same week. Cardinal Maida was coming to celebrate his funeral and Fr. Stan told everyone in the parish that I asked for an associate to help me, and he was travelling all over the world working very hard! His definition of ‘hard work’ is different than mine, too. Once he told me that he was so tired at the end of the mass because he had eight announcements! But since I was on the receiving end I didn’t try to be funny and ruin everything. Instead I kept saying that Fr. Stan was the best priest in the whole world and it was not possible to find another priest like him! This saved me a lot of trouble. I also promised to buy him his favorite coffee from ‘Café Greco.’
It was my first trip outside of the US after coming here. On November 19th I flew from Detroit to the Fumicino Airport in Italy. I wanted to study in Rome, but instead my bishop had decided to send me to the United States. As I was flying to Rome I was very happy that at least I could visit Rome. I had no idea I would get another chance ten years later to go and study theology there.
I always enjoy flying and driving, especially when I am alone, and try to follow the airline motto of “less luggage, more comfort.” When I fly I tried to read, pray, eat everything I get in the airplanes, and sleep for the rest of the time. When I drive, I listen to audio tapes - I have driven nearly 200,000 miles in the last ten years! I drive all the visitors I have from India to Toronto, Niagara Falls, Pittsburg and Chicago. The last time when I drove my friends to Niagara Falls the immigration agent at the border asked me whether I had been to Canada before - and it was my 21st visit to Niagara Falls! Sometimes I just stay in the car and tell them to call me once they’ve finished their sightseeing!
Part 17
My Rome journey was a great and memorable experience in my life. My friends had arranged for a room for me in one of the seminaries in Rome. On Nov. 19th, we gathered as a group at St. Peter's Square for evening prayer. Pope John Paul, II, attended the prayer service with thousands of pilgrims, and gave a blessing at the end of the service.
It was the first time I had met my Archbishop after he brought me to the United States. He asked me how I liked it here now. I told him that I was beginning to like everything here, but I had two problems. He then asked about them. The first problem, I said, was that we didn’t have a cook at the parish, and I was used to American or Indian cooking. He said that was not a problem at all because in America there is McDonalds and the food is very cheap! Then I told him that it was already very cold here and I am not used to the cold weather. He said that was an easy problem to solve - you just have to dress warmly and drive carefully in the snow, and asked what my next problem was? I soon realized there was no point in talking to the Archbishop about the problems because if I kept this up, he would soon say that I was his biggest problem. So I said there were no problems for me and that everything was excellent. He was happy, and I was happy, too.
November 20, 2000, was a memorable day in my life because of our special meeting with Pope John Pau,l II. I was only a high school student when the Pope came to India in 1986 and had no chance to see him at that time. Since there were nearly three hundred people in the group, the audience was given a special hall connected to St. Peter’s Church. We were there early to get seated and I was not happy to get a seat at the back of the hall. My friend who made the arrangements for my trip got a front row seat near the door and he was excited when the Pope came through that door. He could kiss the hand of the Pope and received a blessing!
My Archbishop welcomed the Holy Father and thanked him for giving us the opportunity to meet with him. In his speech Pope John Paul thanked the pilgrims for taking time to visit Rome to offer prayers at the tomb of the first century martyrs of Christianity. He also talked about continuing the missionary zeal of the Church throughout the world.
My friend priest, who was sitting in the front row, came to the back and asked me to go to his seat so that I could see the Pope closer when he left. Security was upset with us and told us that we could not move around until the Pope had left. But I was already in the seat and they didn’t want to make another commotion, so they allowed me to stay there. But when the Pope was about to leave, another security man came and asked me to move to the next room. I knew that I was in trouble for moving around and there was no way for me to see the Holy Father closer. But soon I realized what was going on. The seminarians of Damasceno College in Rome had an appointment with the Pope. They were also part of our group and the Swiss Guard thought I was a student of the college, too.
There was only one chair in that room and it was for the Pope. I went and stood next to that chair since the room was very small. There were nearly twenty priests in that group. It was an incredible experience to stand close to the Pope, since he radiated a special energy. It seemed to me that everyone around him seemed busy as he enjoyed our presence. He was not in a hurry to leave like the Cardinals around him. I had several pictures taken with the Pope, and I bought copies of every one of them from the picture store there. Later, I heard that Damasceno College had to delete my picture from the group since I was not part of that college. But who cares about them deleting you from the picture, or creating trouble for them, when you got a chance to be with the Pope?! I couldn’t sleep that night because of all my excitement of the day!
Part 18
The day after our audience with the Holy Father, we celebrated the Eucharist at Santa Maria Maggiore (Saint Mary Major), one of the ancient Basilica’s in Rome. Pope Liberius commissioned the construction of this Basilica in 360 A. D., and the present building dates back to the time of Pope Sixtus III (432-430). Ignace Moussa I Daoud, then Patriarch of the Syrian Catholic Church, and my Archbishop were the main celebrants of the Mass. The Italian television telecast the Mass which was offered in five languages (English, Syriac, Arabic, Italian and Malayalam). When I was celebrating the Mass I remembered the first Pentecost event where people who spoke different languages came to Jerusalem, and returned home filled with the Holy Spirit. It was also a true experience of the universality of the Catholic Church. That evening we had a public gathering to share our experiences, which was also attended by Cardinal Sylvestrini and Cardinal Echagerai.
It was more of a pilgrimage for me than a ‘sightseeing tour.’ My friends were gracious enough to take me to different churches and other holy places in Rome. I was reminded of the price many saints paid for their faith when I visited the catacombs, and the coliseum where Christians were martyred for their faith in the first three centuries of Christianity. It also gave me a moment to examine the way I witness the gospel in my own day-to-day life.
The Vatican Museum and the churches, where the statues and paintings revealed the works of master sculptures and painters, were beautiful. St. Peter’s was crowded all the time…and I climbed through the spiral stairs to the top of St. Peter’s. It was a beautiful sight and experience to look at the city of Rome standing at the top of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica.
Some of the members of our group lost their wallets because of all the pick-pocketing in Rome. One remarked happily to me that he only lost his wallet in Rome - but look at what St. Peter, St. Paul, and other Christians of the first century lost while they were in Rome! I thought it was a good way to look at things, but still they had lost their money, passports, and other important documents.
One other memory still sticking with me from the Rome pilgrimage was the visiting of the ‘Church of Bones’ located beneath the church of Santa Maria della Concenzione dei Cappuccini. This is the resting place of nearly 4,000 Capuchin friars and several poor Romans who died between 1528 and 1870. Large numbers of bones are nailed to the wall….. Those monks in the skeleton form looked very scary, and I was reminded once again of the temporariness of my earthly life. There was a beautiful inscription underneath those skulls: “What you are now we used to be; what we are now you will be.” It was thought provoking, but I don’t want you to come and see me when I am in that state!
After a week’s stay in Rome I flew back to Detroit; physically tired, but spiritually enriched because of the incredible experiences I had.
Part 19
My attempts to get into the English graduate program at Oakland University continued. Once I began taking classes at the community college in Port Huron, I became a little more confident. When I talked to the teachers there about my intention to enter into the Masters program, they were all encouraging. With Prof. Suzanne Moor’s advice I met with Prof. Kathy Pfeiffer, who was at that time in charge of the graduate admission’s program. She directed me to the university’s Admissions Department where I was met with a lot of problems. They told me that I didn’t have enough undergraduate credits to start the program and would have to take at least 34 more credits for them to consider my application. I knew that it was a problem of understanding the Indian educational system, so I sent my documents to the Credential Evaluation Agency in New York to change my undergraduate credentials to the US system. The Admissions Department was then surprised to see that I studied “too much” as an undergraduate student in India!
The second obstacle was my religious visa; according to them it didn’t allow me to register for regular courses at the university. I had to work hard to prove them wrong again. I already knew from the experience of my friends that I could work and study at the same time, and they misunderstood the regulations. The primary purpose of my visa was religious work, and I couldn’t be a full-time student with that visa. I contacted the INS and they told me that I could start studying as a part-time student and gave me the rule number. Then I emailed the Admission Departments of some of the major universities in the US, asking to be admitted on my visa and they all replied agreeing to my argument. I took all these documents to Oakland University and they finally approved my admission request.
But there was one more hurdle to jump: As an International student I had to take the TOEFL Test (Test of English as a Foreign Language) and had to score good marks. There was another test known as MELAB (The Michigan English Language Assessment Battery), conducted by the English Department of the University of Michigan, which was accepted by all the Universities. I took this test and got a good score, which allowed me finally to get into the graduate program at Oakland University.
I kept updating Prof. Pfeiffer of all the developments and she was a big help all through my admission ‘struggles.’ As soon as I was admitted to the undergraduate program I started taking classes which really helped me to move smoothly to the graduate studies. The first class I signed up for was a classical mythology course where there were a ‘hundred thousand’ students (it seemed) in the class so it was conducted in a mini auditorium. I was happy that I was ‘lost’ in that class which was actually a good thing for me at that time. This whole process took almost a year and I never lost hope that I could do these things, and God provided good people all along the way for me.
Meanwhile, something else was going on in the parish with my pastor. He already had gone through a program for his alcoholism, and after a while he started again. It is hard when all your father figures were alcoholics - it is a dilemma. You want to love them, but at the same time you don’t want to deal with them. They have unpredictable natures. Sometimes very loving, and the next moment they might explode like a volcano with anger. Sometimes they laugh and some other times they cry. I used to tell the children that God is like your father or mother, but not anymore. Now I say “God is like your loving father or loving mother.” Who knows how many kids struggle with that image!
Part 20
Before elaborating on my ‘adventures’ as the temporary administrator of St. Mary Parish, I have to explain how an intersection in Port Huron is named after me. That was an instant ‘fame’ many people are not privileged to achieve after coming from India to the United States.
During the month of February, Fr. Stan decided to go to Florida for few weeks to take advantage of having an associate. He didn’t want anyone to know about this vacation either. I had been invited to Vic Ulman’s house for dinner - he had helped me with my driving lessons. The Ulman family was active in the church with his wife singing in the choir, and the two children being altar servers. This all happened just three months after I got my driver’s license. In my attempt to follow the car in front of me while turning left on the corner of Gratiot and Kraft, I was hit by a van coming from the opposite direction. I knew that I made a mistake, since the other car had the right of way; but I also knew that you shouldn’t take blame or accuse anyone until the police have heard both sides and come to their own conclusion. It was an evening rush hour and my car was totaled, with both airbags being deployed. There were two children in the other car who had minor injuries. I still remember that awful moment - I wanted to hide inside my car so no one would notice me. The police were on the scene within minutes with an ambulance and a fire engine. Everyone was relieved to see that the passengers in both cars were not seriously harmed.
The more I tried to hide the accident, the more it became public. Many of the parishioners were on the scene comforting me. I was only one hundred meters away from the house where I was going for dinner. Soon, I was taken to Port Huron hospital and declared ‘normal,’ when I actually felt like I was still in shock. Everyone in the Archdiocese knew where Fr. Stan was after that! (That family never invited me back for dinner - I guess they didn’t have the strength to endure another ‘shock.’) I didn’t get a ticket since the police wrote in the report that there were ‘conflicting reports about the accident.’ But I saw my Guardian Angel protecting me and the passengers of the van from a possible tragedy from happening. Now I always start my journey with prayer, and then no matter what happens God is in charge.
Since my car was totaled and I was happy that I could buy a new car, but I had no intention of buying a new car every three months in this way! People named that corner “Fr. Mathew’s Corner” as if I owned that area, and nobody else was allowed to ‘purchase it’ with another accident. Until recently I had kept the newspaper report from the Port Huron Times Herald with the picture of my damaged car, just to remind myself of the need to drive carefully. It was instant fame that I didn’t really enjoy.
After the accident some people suggested that I warn the police and other passengers on the road whenever I was driving! The person who gave me driving lessons wanted me to do him a big favor - “Don’t tell anyone who taught you how to drive!” I am happy to report that I haven’t had another accident (that was my fault).
Part 21
It was just before the Easter Season when the pastor went for treatment to the Guest House in Minnesota. I didn't panic about doing the Easter Services, even though I was not used to the liturgical practices in the Latin Rite. What I needed to do was to seek help from someone who was familiar with the liturgical practices. I received help from different areas. Fr. Joe Esper was the pastor at St. Edward in Lake Port and he was willing to help. He prepared detailed notes about what I needed to do on the Easter Vigil Mass with regard to the baptism of the Catechumens and other special services. Another big help came from Pat Isaacson, Director or Religious Education. She also spent hours making everything happen right. What I really did was to pray long enough to entrust to God so that I get the strength to do everything the way God wanted me to. Pat Isaacson told me after the service that she had attended several Easter services, and that service was one of the best.
Six months went by with no sign of the pastor coming back, so one day I contacted Msgr. Zen's office to find out when the pastor would be returning. He was surprised to hear that Fr. Stan was still away. I told him that I had no problem administering to the needs of the people, but it was not good for the parish to go on like that for a long time. That day I received a call from Bishop Kevin Britt telling me that Fr. Stan would be back within a week.
I talked to my Archbishop in India and told him that I had started my studies at the university, and since I had a tremendous amount of work in the parish it was difficult for me to study. He told me clearly that my first priority was taking care of the needs of the people and study could be postponed. I did not discontinue the class, but I was content to take a low grade for that course. Nobody asked me what my grade for the course was, but people at St. Mary were happy that I filled in successfully when the pastor was away.
One thing I really enjoyed was to go through the classrooms after the mass and talk to the children for few minutes. I also enjoyed doing mass for them and I got some of the funniest and unexpected answers from the children. One time I was talking about Cardinal Virtues and Theological Virtues and asked them whether anybody knew what the Cardinal Virtues were. One child raised her hand and said: "I know - it is Cardinal Maida." Another time, while talking about the Eucharist, I asked them what they had eaten that morning. One of my friends' daughter raised her hand and said: "Just cereal, because my mom was too lazy to cook!" Since I wanted to stay there few more years, I stopped asking such personal questions.
Meanwhile I continued to serve the Indian community in the Detroit area. Eventually Fr. Gary Schulte allowed us to use St. Sylvester Church for our Mass. We had catechism and Mass for my community every Sunday after 4 PM. I made an agreement with them to bring Indian food for me. Each family brought a week's worth of food for me, and all I had to do was to wash the containers every week before returning it!
Part 22
For the first time after coming here I went to New York to visit my friends there, one month before the September 11th terrorists' attacks. Some of my friends took me to the top of the twin towers and we had lunch in a restaurant on the top floor. One might never imagine a building like that could be attacked or that someone would dare to do such a heinous crime. We also visited the Statue of Liberty on Liberty Island, and I climbed up to the top of the statue.
From there I flew to Chicago and joined four other priests - we drove together from Chicago to Port Huron, and then Port Huron to Toronto and Niagara Falls. I also arranged a boat ride for them in Lake Huron. That was my first trip to Toronto and Niagara Falls and it was a joyful one.
In the summer of 2002 one of my friends who was studying in Rome came to see me after staying with another priest friend of ours in Chicago. Since the airport is more than an hour’s drive from Port Huron, he did not want to disturb me and decided to come by train. I picked him up from the railway station which was just two miles from where I lived. My house (The Tajmahal) was underneath the Blue Water Bridge and he expressed his desire to see the Bridge. I had driven to the Bridge before and you could turn around before crossing the toll booth to Canada. But they closed that gate after 9-11, and this time the officer said there was no way I could get back to Port Huron without crossing the bridge to Canada. He told me to tell the Canadian immigration office that we made a mistake and they normally send you back to the US. I knew I was getting into big trouble, and there wasn’t time to waste arguing since my friend was about to leave to Chicago by train that afternoon.
He was safe since he had all the documents with him. I, however, was getting ready to be deported to India since I didn't have the passport and visa papers with me! It would be a trip without any expenses, but who knows what jail I would end up in! My friend was excited that he could cross the border without a visa and enjoy the beautiful view from the Blue Water Bridge. Sure enough, the Canadian Immigration officers were happy to send us back, saying many had made the same mistake we did. At the booth I told the officer what had happened, but he was not happy and gave us a yellow card, writing something on it and asked us to go and see the officers inside. It took almost two hours for us to do that turn around in the bridge! He said something while closing his door to the main office, which to us meant we would be getting a "warm welcome" from the parking area to the office with four officers escorting us! I felt like somebody important! We were asked to provide the necessary documents and I had only my driver's license on me. But I am sure that even then I didn't look like a terrorist. I told the officers that I was a priest at St. Mary and lived underneath the bridge and didn't know that they closed the gate after 9-11. None of my pleading seemed to work as they were not ready to release us. After a prolonged interrogation they made us to do some paper work and then allowed us to go. I had the feeling that I was being released from jail after serving "a life in prison without parole" sentence.
But by this time I was sure that the train had left since we were already ten minutes late. We decided to push our luck and I drove the "maximum speed possible." It was not a good day until I found out that the train was fifteen minutes late due to some technical reasons. I considered this more providence than luck, and once my friend got boarded the train, it left for Chicago - as if it was waiting for him!
"Fr. Mathew's mishap at the border" later became a sensational news among the immigration officers since two of the superintendents working there were from St. Mary parish. They all happened to come to a funeral at St. Mary later that month and were trying to avoid me, probably thinking that I would "retaliate" the same way by "excommunicating" them from the Church! Michelle Theisen was one of the superintendents, and she asked me to use her name if I needed any information or help. I learned you can acquire some good friends after a big mishap!
...will continue...
