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World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
While I was in India, I visited a school at the start of the academic year to bless their newly elected student leaders. As I arrived, a boy in a blazer two sizes too big marched up to me proudly wearing a badge that read: “Third Assistant Pupils’ Leader.” He gave me a firm handshake and said, “Father, I may not be the main guy, but if the main guy is absent and the assistant is late, then I’m in charge!” I smiled. It was funny, yes, but also profound. That boy had no delusions of grandeur. He knew his place in the order, but he stood tall, ready to serve.
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Blessed Virgin Mary | Learn more about our faith | Why pray?
Years ago, I was called to the hospital for a woman in critical condition. Her son, a grown man in his forties, stood beside her bed weeping silently. He had always been the strong one, the no-nonsense, keep-it-together type. But now, seeing his mother barely able to speak, all that strength melted into grief. When she realized he was crying, she didn’t say much. She simply reached for his hand and said, “Shh… I’m still here.” That moment of motherly presence, even in her weakness, reminds me of another scene, on a hill called Calvary.
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Learn more about our faith | Why pray?
I once watched a relay race where the runner, after sprinting an entire lap, tripped and fell just before passing the baton. He then suddenly picked himself up and collected the baton from the track, by then the next runner jumped the gun. He ran toward his fallen comrade, grabbed the baton, and ran like his life depended on it. They didn’t win, but the crowd gave a standing ovation. Because it wasn’t about winning anymore. It was about finishing together.
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Some years ago, I visited a family I knew well in the parish right after their third child was born. The older two, aged four and six, were buzzing with excitement. The four-year-old daughter tugged at my sleeve and asked, “Father, how did the baby get in Mommy’s tummy?” Now, as you can imagine, the mother froze mid-diaper change. The father blinked, looked at me as if to say, You are the priest. You answer this one! But then the older child chimed in with great authority: “It’s okay. I already told her. God puts the baby in, and when it’s grown, the hospital gets it out.” And that was the end of the conversation to my consolation.
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Learn more about our faith | Love thy Neighbor
Let me begin with something every Indian, whether in Mumbai, Delhi, Dallas, or Denmark, knows deeply in their bones: no matter the crisis, there’s always a song and dance for it. In Indian cinema, if you have watched, characters break into song at the strangest moments. A couple just met five minutes ago? Suddenly they’re on top of the Alps, dancing in sync. The hero is heartbroken? Cue the sad violin on a rain-drenched street. A wedding is coming up? Get ready for six different dance numbers with matching costumes. Even we Indians laugh about it, but deep down, we also love it. Because these songs aren’t just music, they’re the language of the soul.
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Holy lives of inspiration | Why pray?
After receiving my First Holy Communion, I was absolutely certain about one thing: I wanted to be an altar server. Not just any altar server, this was the Syro-Malabar rite, where serving at the altar isn’t just about lighting candles, ringing bells and wearing a cassock. No. It’s a full-on liturgical performance. We chant responses, recite prayers loudly, and lead the congregation through a liturgy that’s as beautiful as it is long. The altar server is also a lector, a cantor, a leader of the people in prayer. They lead chants, offer liturgical exhortations, lead penitential rites and sometimes feel like junior deacons-in-training!
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