A “Descending” Ascension

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

Every year, the Feast of the Ascension confronts Christians with an uncomfortable question: What exactly do we mean when we say that Jesus "ascended into heaven"? For many of us, childhood imagination shaped the answer long before theology ever did. Jesus rising upward into the clouds like a celestial rocket remains one of the most enduring images of Christian memory. The disciples stare upward. Angels appear. Heaven seems somewhere "up there," far removed from the dust and disorder of ordinary life.

Yet, the deeper meaning of the Ascension is not about escape from the world. It is about transformation within it. The danger for believers today is much the same as it was for the first disciples: we remain "standing there looking at the sky." We look for dramatic signs of God while neglecting the sacred responsibility hidden in the ordinary. We long for transcendence while resisting the hard work of love, patience, forgiveness, and humility. We speak of heaven while struggling to live graciously on earth.

The Gospel accounts reveal a striking tension in the disciples themselves. "They worshiped, but they doubted." How familiar that sounds. Modern Christians know this interior contradiction well. We profess faith in the risen Lord, yet we often live as though fear, frustration, and anxiety still have the final word. If we are honest, many of us are more easily disturbed by traffic, inconvenience, criticism, or disappointment than strengthened by the joy of the Resurrection. We say Christ is risen, but our impatience with others often reveals how little resurrection hope has penetrated our daily lives.

The Ascension calls us beyond this shallow spirituality.

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux once spoke of three comings of Christ – first, at Bethlehem; second, at the end of time; and third, in the human heart each day. Perhaps this third coming is the real secret of the Ascension. Christ continues to rise within humanity whenever love triumphs over selfishness, whenever truth overcomes illusion, whenever humility disarms pride. 

In this sense, true ascension is actually a descent. We ascend with Christ not by fleeing the realities of life, but by descending more deeply into them — into the truth of who we are, into the wounds of the world, into the demands of compassion and mercy. To ascend spiritually is to become more human, not less. It is to discover God dwelling not beyond life, but within it.

This challenges the dualism that has often shaped Christian imagination: heaven versus earth, spirit versus body, sacred versus secular. The Ascension does not reject the world; it reveals the world's destiny in God. In Christ, humanity itself is brought into divine life. Heaven is no longer merely a distant destination; it begins wherever God's love is allowed to flourish. That is why the disciples are told not to remain staring upward. They are sent back to Jerusalem — back into community, uncertainty, mission, and history. The Holy Spirit will meet them there, not in escapist fantasy, but in the concrete realities of human life.

The same is true for us.

The real measure of Christian faith is not how eloquently we speak about heaven, but how faithfully we embody Christ in daily life. The Ascension asks difficult questions. How do we treat those closest to us? How do we respond to those who irritate or oppose us? How attentive are we to the poor, the lonely, the forgotten? Do our lives radiate resurrection hope, or merely religious routine?

The Greek word used in Acts for the Spirit's "power" is dunamis — the root of words like "dynamic" and "dynamite." The Holy Spirit is not given to make believers passive spectators of heaven. The Spirit empowers us to become witnesses — people whose lives visibly testify that love is stronger than fear. The Ascension, then, is not about leaving earth behind. It is about discovering heaven within the very depths of earthly existence.

To ascend with Christ is to descend into humility. To descend into truth. To descend into love.

And there, precisely there, we discover the presence of God.

An Ode to the City’s Catholicism and Culture

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

It is something of an open secret that the Catholic community in Mumbai possesses a life distinctly its own, one that resists comparison with any other, whether within India or beyond its shores. So deeply ingrained are its customs among Mumbai Catholics that, even when they journey to distant lands, they instinctively gather in circles, seeking familiar faces from former parishes back home. One may take a Catholic out of Mumbai, but the converse appears nearly impossible. The uniqueness of the Mumbai Catholic as a cultural archetype is further reflected in the growing presence of Catholic humourists and comedians on Instagram, a striking number of whom trace their roots to this very city. Nathan Gomes, Ashville Simoens, Leon Silva, Analee Cerejo and Rozzlin Pereira are among the names that readily come to mind.

Yet, it must also be acknowledged that this vibrant cultural expression of Catholic life in the city rests firmly upon the bedrock of an equally vibrant and dynamic faith and spirituality, which lies at the heart of our many spirited and joy-filled parishes. A cursory glance at the cover of this issue may well have stirred a sense of intrigue regarding the context of the images that grace this week's front page. They represent a tapestry of diverse events that have unfolded across the Catholic multiverse in Mumbai, spanning both religious observance and cultural celebration. (A previous experiment with a similar collage last year proved somewhat contentious… I can only hope this one invites gentler reactions!)

A significant delegation of priests and lay ministry leaders made a notable impression at the recently concluded National Synodal Assembly in Bangalore this past week, guided with distinction by Archbishop John Rodrigues. Mumbai Catholics have, without doubt, played a meaningful role in shaping the Synodal journey within India. Concurrently, back home, a crucial seminar was convened at Dadar to illuminate the challenges emerging from the FCRA Amendment Bill, the SIR process and the Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Bill. Under the leadership of Bishop Allwyn D'Silva, the Social Apostolate Ministry continues to engage tirelessly in educating and empowering the faithful across civic, social, environmental and legal dimensions.

In Marol, a parish bore witness to a priestly ordination presided over by the archbishop, a moment always imbued with profound joy, while Bandra Gymkhana saw an impressive gathering for its Annual Thanksgiving Mass celebrated by Auxiliary Bishop Stephen Fernandes. The occasion was further distinguished by the conferment of honorary memberships upon four exemplary members of the Christian community: a retired High Court judge and an IAS officer, a Padma Shri recipient and a national-level cricketer—each testifying to how a small minority community continues to contribute disproportionately to nation building. The crowning touch came with our very own Editorial Board member, Trina Remedios, securing First Prize in the East Indian MasterChef 2026 category at the annual celebration hosted by the Mobai Gaothan Panchayat. Known for her passionate chronicling of Mumbai's cultural life for The Examiner, her culinary prowess emerges as an equally delightful and unexpected revelation.

This special cover, dedicated to Catholic culture and faith within this ever-thriving metropolis, stands as a testament to the enduring role of The Examiner as both voice and visual chronicler of Catholic life in the Archdiocese of Bombay. We remain steadfast in our commitment to evolve as a publication of and for the community, capturing and sharing the distinctive vitality of Christian life across the archdiocese. The breadth of content within these pages reflects the rich diversity of faith expressions and cultural traditions that call this city home.

At the same time, The Examiner continues to uphold its legacy as a national publication that mirrors the joys and sorrows, the triumphs and trials that shape the Christian experience across the country on an almost daily basis. We remain unwavering in our mission of 'Spreading the Light of Christ with Truth, Justice and Love,' while also shining a light on the patriotism and nation-building contributions of Christian institutions throughout India. 'Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikas' is not merely a slogan, but a lived reality within the Christian community since its earliest presence in this land. We affirm our support for the sincere efforts of our Prime Minister and his government in striving to build a nation marked by prosperity and peace for all people of goodwill.

From Francis to Leo: The Church's Mission continues

On April 21, the Church marked the first anniversary of the death of Pope Francis, whose passing in 2025 closed one of the most consequential pontificates of the modern age. Just weeks later, on May 8, Catholics around the world will commemorate the first anniversary of the election of Pope Leo XIV, chosen by the conclave to guide the Barque of Peter into a new chapter. These two anniversaries, so close together, invite the faithful not merely to remember one pope and celebrate another, but to discern the providential continuity between them.

When Jorge Mario Bergoglio emerged onto the loggia of St Peter's Basilica in 2013, asking the people first to bless him before he blessed them, the world sensed immediately that something had changed. Pope Francis did not abolish tradition; rather, he recovered its deepest evangelical core. He wanted a Church that smelled of the sheep, a Church that was less palace and more field hospital, less preoccupied with self-preservation and more intent on healing wounds.

His enduring legacy rests above all in this pastoral conversion. Pope Francis shifted the Catholic imagination towards mercy, accompaniment and encounter. In Amoris Laetitia, he called pastors to walk patiently with families in fragile situations. In his memorable words, "Who am I to judge?", he signalled that the Church must speak first in the language of human dignity before that of condemnation. He championed migrants, visited prisoners, embraced the disabled, and repeatedly reminded a comfortable world that Christ is found in the poor.

Pope Francis also gave the Church a prophetic voice on global questions. His encyclical Laudato Si' reframed ecological concern as a moral obligation rooted in care for Creation and solidarity with the vulnerable. His appeals for peace in Ukraine, Gaza and forgotten conflicts across the globe revealed a papacy unwilling to become captive to geopolitical camps. He insisted that fraternity is not sentimentality, but a demand of the Gospel.

Yet Pope Francis' greatest reform may have been internal. He challenged clericalism, widened the College of Cardinals to include the peripheries, and encouraged Synodality—a Church that listens, discerns and journeys together. In doing so, he ensured that his successor would inherit not merely institutions, but momentum.

That successor arrived on May 8, 2025, with the election of Pope Leo XIV. The choice of the name "Leo" itself was eloquent. It evoked both Pope Leo the Great, defender of orthodoxy, and Pope Leo XIII, architect of modern Catholic social teaching. The new pontiff signalled from the outset that fidelity and reform, doctrine and justice, need not be rivals.

In his first year, Pope Leo has shown himself neither an imitator of Pope Francis nor a repudiation of him. Rather, he has been a discerning continuer—receiving Pope Francis' agenda while bringing his own temperament, priorities and style. On the first anniversary of Pope Francis' death, Pope Leo praised his predecessor as "a devoted shepherd who touched so many hearts" and called his witness a "significant patrimony for the Church." Such words reveal not mere courtesy, but conviction.

Where Pope Francis often governed through symbolic gestures and spontaneous warmth, Pope Leo has brought a quieter, more juridical steadiness. If Pope Francis was the pope of prophetic disruption, Pope Leo has so far appeared to be the pope of patient consolidation. He has emphasised that Synodality must bear concrete structures, that reform requires institutional depth, and that missionary energy must be matched by doctrinal clarity.

Among the hallmarks of Pope Leo's first year has been his insistence on evangelization in a secular age. He has repeatedly urged Catholics not to retreat into nostalgia or culture-war defensiveness, but to witness joyfully in societies marked by loneliness, technological alienation and spiritual fatigue. He has also deepened the Church's global presence through his apostolic journeys, notably to Africa, where he has highlighted the dynamism of local churches and the urgent demands of justice and development.

Pope Leo has preserved Pope Francis' outward-looking priorities: concern for migrants, ecological responsibility, peace-building and the dignity of those on society's margins. In this sense, the agenda continues. The Church remains called to the peripheries, inwardly renewed so as to be outwardly missionary. One year after Pope Francis' death and one year into Pope Leo's pontificate, Catholics can recognise that providence often works through succession. 

Together, these two pontificates testify that the Church is most herself when she remembers the poor, proclaims mercy, seeks truth, and walks forward without fear.

(collated by Fr Joshan Rodrigues from various online sources)

St Joseph the Worker: Worship before Work 

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

Each year, the Church celebrates the Feast of St Joseph the Worker on May 1 – the very day the world observes International Labour Day or May Day. This providential confluence is no accident of the calendar. It is a profound reminder that labour is not merely an economic activity, but a sacred participation in God's creative work. In an age when work is increasingly measured only by productivity, profit and performance, the silent carpenter of Nazareth calls us back to the dignity of labour, the sanctity of family life, and the primacy of worship.

Today, India's labour sector faces serious challenges, especially for the young. There is growing pressure to normalise extreme work schedules. Public debates around 70-hour work weeks, and admiration for "996 culture" (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week) reveal how easily human beings can be reduced to machines. At the same time, millions of educated young Indians remain unemployed or underemployed. Recent reports note that nearly 30% of India's youth aged 15-29 are unemployed, exposing a painful disconnect between education and meaningful work opportunity. 

Alongside this, the rise of the gig economy has created convenience for consumers, but insecurity for workers. Many labourers have no health cover, no pension, no predictable income, and little legal protection. Work-from-home culture, while beneficial in some respects, has also blurred the line between labour and leisure, office and home, productivity and prayer. Many young people now delay or abandon marriage, because careers demand total allegiance. Salaries often fail to match the hours and emotional energy invested. The result is exhaustion, anxiety, loneliness, and a growing sense that work no longer serves life.

Into this confusion steps St Joseph. Joseph was a labourer, but he was never enslaved by labour. He worked with his hands, yet his heart belonged to God. Scripture gives us no recorded words of Joseph, but his life speaks eloquently: obedience, steadiness, humility, craftsmanship, responsibility, and trust. He provided for Jesus Christ and Mary through honest work, yet he also knew when to stop working and listen to God's voice in dreams. He accepted interruptions, relocations, uncertainty, and sacrifice, because God's will mattered more than personal convenience.

What can India learn from Joseph today?

First, labour must recover its human face. A worker is not a statistic, an "asset," or a disposable unit of output. Every labourer bears the image of God. Therefore, wages must be just, hours humane, and workplaces respectful. If profit grows while families collapse, society has not advanced; it has regressed!

Second, work must serve family life, not destroy it. Joseph worked to protect his household, not to escape it. Any culture that glorifies endless work while neglecting spouses, children, elders, and community is spiritually bankrupt. The family is not an obstacle to success; it is the first school of love and responsibility.

Third, young people need formation, not only employment. Joseph was a craftsman. He represents skill, discipline, apprenticeship, and excellence. India must invest in vocational dignity as much as academic prestige. Not every success story comes through a corporate tower; many come through workshops, farms, laboratories, classrooms, and small enterprises. Honest craftsmanship is holy.

Fourth, labour must remain subordinate to worship. Joseph's workshop in Nazareth was meaningful because it was ordered to God. Sundays, prayer, Sacraments, rest, and silence are not wasted time. They remind us that our identity comes not from our designation, package, or title, but from being children of God. When work becomes an idol, it eventually becomes a tyrant. 

This May Day, the Church offers not a slogan, but a saint. St Joseph the Worker reminds employers to be just, governments to protect labour, and workers to seek holiness in their toil. He reminds the young that ambition without vocation is empty, and labour without prayer is burdensome. If India is to build a humane future, it will not be through longer hours alone, but through just structures, strong families, meaningful work, and hearts ordered to God. In the carpenter of Nazareth, labour finds again its dignity—and the worker, his soul.

No Country for Minorities

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

India has long been cherished not merely as a geographical nation, but as a civilisational idea — a land where many faiths, languages, cultures, and peoples learned to live together. The Constitution enshrined that noble promise by guaranteeing equality, dignity, liberty of conscience, and the right of every citizen to profess and practise religion freely. It is this pluralistic vision that has held our diverse nation together. Yet today, many are compelled to ask with pain and urgency: is India slowly becoming No Country for Minorities?

Recent developments have deepened anxiety among Christians and other vulnerable communities. The tightening of regulations under laws such as the FCRA has severely affected numerous charitable and educational institutions, many of which have served the poor for decades without discrimination. Hospitals, orphanages, hostels, rehabilitation centres, and rural development projects run by Christian organisations have faced immense strain. When service institutions are weakened, it is not Christians alone who suffer, but countless ordinary Indians who depend on them.

Likewise, so-called "Freedom of Religion" laws enacted in several states have, in practice, created suspicion around legitimate expressions of faith and charity. While every genuine conversion must be free of coercion or inducement, these laws are too often used selectively, enabling harassment, intimidation, and false accusations. Prayer meetings are disrupted, pastors arrested, nuns questioned, and ordinary believers made to feel like criminals for professing their faith.

Equally troubling is the continuing rise in attacks against Christians in different parts of the country – vandalism of churches, disruption of worship, social boycotts, threats, and mob violence. Such incidents do not occur in a vacuum. They are symptoms of a deeper problem, where minorities are increasingly portrayed as outsiders, suspect citizens, or obstacles to national unity.

But Christians are not alone in this experience. Parsis, Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs (in some contexts), Dalits, Adivasis, tribal communities, and indigenous peoples have all faced varying forms of exclusion, prejudice, or erasure. A nation cannot call itself developed merely by building highways, airports, and a digital economy, while sections of its people live in fear. True development is measured not only in GDP, but in justice, inclusion, compassion, and the security felt by the weakest citizen.

India's minorities have contributed immeasurably to nation-building. Christians pioneered schools, colleges, hospitals, leprosy centres, homes for the destitute, and institutions of excellence in education. Parsis helped build industry, philanthropy, science, and public life. Muslims enriched art, architecture, music, literature, administration, and scholarship. Buddhists gave the world a timeless message of compassion and peace. Tribal communities preserved ecological wisdom and cultural richness. To erase these contributions from public memory is to amputate parts of India's own soul.

What then should be the response of the Catholic community?

Certainly not fear. Certainly not bitterness. Certainly not retreat into silence. The Catholic response must be rooted in truth, courage, solidarity, and Gospel love.

First, Catholics must remain steadfast in faith. Our Lord warned us: "If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you" (John 15:18). Persecution, while painful, is not new to the Christian journey. The Church was born under opposition, and has often grown stronger through witness.

Second, we must reject hatred and revenge. Jesus commands: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Matthew 5:44). This is not weakness; it is the highest form of strength. Hatred only multiplies darkness. Love disarms the conscience of the oppressor and keeps the soul of the victim free.

Third, Catholics must continue affirmative action through service. Let every parish become a centre of healing, education, legal aid, environmental care, and solidarity with the poor. Let Catholic institutions rededicate themselves to excellence and openness. Let us answer suspicion with transparency, hostility with compassion, and propaganda with visible acts of mercy. As St Paul reminds us: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:21).

Fourth, we must build bridges with all communities. This is not the time for sectarian isolation. Catholics should stand beside Muslims facing prejudice, tribals losing land, Dalits denied dignity, women facing violence, and any group denied their Constitutional rights. Our struggle is not for Christian privilege, but for the soul of democracy itself.

Fifth, Catholics must participate responsibly in public life. We need informed voters, principled lawyers, courageous journalists, honest civil servants, compassionate teachers, and youth who can articulate Constitutional values. Silence in the face of injustice is never neutrality; it becomes complicity.

India need not become a country without space for minorities. It can still renew its founding promise. But that renewal will require courage from the majority, resilience from minorities, and moral leadership from all people of goodwill.

For Catholics, the path is clear: remain faithful, remain fearless, remain charitable, remain united. If we respond to persecution with prayer, wisdom, service and love, then even those who oppose us will one day see in us not enemies, but fellow citizens — and perhaps the face of Christ Himself.

The Logic of the Divine Mercy 

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

I tend to look at the Feast of Easter and the Feast of the Divine Mercy as twin Feasts that communicate to us the infinite and the unmerited Love and Mercy of the Father. If the Death-Resurrection of Jesus proved God's unconditional Love for humankind, then the following Sunday reminds us of God's deep Mercy for each one of us. This Divine Love-Mercy dynamic is at the heart of Christian Hope. 

Seen through the context of today's war-ravaged world, Divine Mercy Sunday—instituted by Pope John Paul II and inspired by the visions of Saint Faustina Kowalska—centres on one core message: God's mercy is greater than human sin, violence, and brokenness. This brings forth a striking contrast between the logic of war and the logic of the Divine Mercy. War is driven by pride, selfish interests, retaliation, power, control, an ideology of dominance. The wars of recent years have also seen a dehumanisation of the "enemy," where some lives are perceived to have more value than others, and that the killing of civilian non-combatant populations and infrastructure is justified. We have seen this happen in Gaza and Ukraine, and now in the Middle East. Violence causes a thirst for revenge which in turn sets off more mindless violence. 

How urgently then does the world need the logic of the Divine Mercy to bear upon it! For the Divine Mercy proposes something radically different, something exactly the opposite. Mercy breaks the chain of violence and retaliation through forgiveness and compassion. It recognises the shared human dignity of every human being as a child of God. More importantly, it emphasises hope for transformation, bringing even the wrongdoers, who have perpetuated hatred, within the ambit of mercy and forgiveness. Jesus' message to St Faustina emphasised: "The greater the sinner, the greater the right to My mercy."

This directly challenges the mindset that enemies must simply be destroyed. In fact, populations that are different from us go from being perceived as "enemies" to simply being "our brothers and sisters" belonging to the one family of God on Planet Earth, who can live together side by side in peace, harmony and a future that aspires to shared prosperity. 

The example of post-apartheid South Africa under Nelson Mandela offers a powerful real-world illustration of mercy overcoming cycles of violence. After decades of systemic oppression, the country stood on the brink of potential civil war, with many expecting revenge from the previously oppressed majority. Instead, Mandela chose a radically different path—one rooted in reconciliation rather than retaliation. He recognised that a nation built on vengeance would only perpetuate division and suffering. Through the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, led by Desmond Tutu, South Africa embraced a model of justice centred on truth-telling, accountability, and healing. Victims were given a voice, and perpetrators were offered conditional amnesty in exchange for full disclosure of their crimes. This approach did not ignore injustice, but it refused to let punishment be the sole response. Instead, it sought to restore relationships and rebuild a fractured society. 

The Apostle Thomas (whose story we hear on Divine Mercy Sunday) offers a powerful example of the logic of the Divine Mercy. He is unfortunately labelled as the "Doubter" and wrongly so; because, if you look closely, Thomas displays a faith that seeks understanding; there is a refusal to simply accept the stated narrative; instead, he sought a personal encounter with the Risen Christ. He had the courage to stand apart, and for that, he was rewarded with an appearance of the Risen Lord once again the following week. 

If there is anyone in doubt, it is, in fact, the other disciples who continue to confine themselves in fear behind closed doors, in spite of the fact that the tomb is now open, and the Risen Lord has appeared to them not once, but twice already. 

The logic of war that has gripped our world today can only be destroyed by the much more powerful logic of the Divine Mercy. Irrespective of which side of the war one finds himself on, each and everyone of us – peoples and nations – must have the courage of Thomas to question the prevailing logic and narratives, and burst forth from our self-imposed chains of existing foreign policy, selfish national interests… and instead fight for the preservation of the Family of Humankind that embraces the entire planet. Love and Mercy is the only solution.