Sustainability Versus Development

At the global level, emerging economies increasingly argue that just as developed nations once advanced, they too must progress—even if it comes at the expense of the environment. India has embraced this stance, often branding those who oppose unsustainable projects as "anti-national" or "anti-development." Yet, Nature continually reminds us through hard lessons that this view of progress is both short-sighted and perilous.

On August 5, a devastating cloudburst flattened a village in Uttarakhand. Soon after, The Indian Express exposed a startling reality. Journalists Nikhil Ghanekar and Aiswarya Raj reported on expert hypotheses regarding the flash flood and massive debris flow that destroyed Dharali village. Though Dharali lies some 200 metres from the Kheer Ganga river, rampant commercialisation in recent years has seen the construction of numerous establishments directly on the alluvial fan—a fragile geological formation created by past flood deposits. With a surge in tourism-related infrastructure and the Dharasu-Gangotri highway cutting through the village, the disaster was, in many ways, man-made.

Consider also the devastation in Wayanad, Kerala last year. The floods there were triggered not only by relentless rainfall and landslides, but also by human interference. Deforestation, unregulated construction, and reckless land-use practices destabilised the soil, and blocked natural drainage channels, intensifying the impact of heavy rains. What followed was widespread flooding that left scars both on the land and its people.

But we need not look so far. Here in Mumbai, we are ensnared in the same cycle. I often hear people celebrating the new Coastal Road: "I reached Bandra so quickly!" "I finally arrived on time." Indeed, for the city's wealthier motorists, this 29.2 km, eight-lane expressway promises convenience. But at what cost? Built by reclaiming land from the sea, the project threatens coastal ecosystems, destroying habitats such as mangroves, tidal flats, and intertidal zones. These areas shelter countless marine species, and their loss carries ecological consequences that may only surface years later—when it is too late to reverse them.

Take, too, the troubling rise in stray dog populations across the country. Current regulations forbid culling, allowing only sterilisation. This has sparked growing tensions between animal lovers and communities devastated by frequent attacks—attacks that often claim the lives of children and the elderly. India now reports the highest number of stray dog attacks and rabies-related deaths in the world. Stray dogs also decimate wildlife and livestock in protected areas, threatening endangered species nationwide. How did matters escalate to this point? The collapse of India's vulture population—by more than 97% due to the veterinary drug diclofenac—left an ecological vacuum that feral dogs rushed to fill. What was an ordinary drug administered to cattle in the 1990s revealed, years later, its catastrophic unintended consequence – fatal kidney failure in vultures feeding on treated carcasses. This grim lesson underscores how development interventions, however well-intentioned, can unleash unforeseen ecological disasters.

Time and again, those who contribute least to ecological destruction bear its harshest costs. This is true of the climate crisis as well; wealthy nations have consumed much of the planet's carbon budget, curtailing the developmental aspirations of the Global South. Acknowledging this grave injustice, the theme of Justice Sunday this year is A Call for Climate Justice and the Common Home: Ecological conversion, transformation and resistance to false solutions. In the Prayers of the Faithful, we ask for Equity—that rich nations repay their ecological debt through just climate finance without indebting the Global South further. We pray for Protection—for indigenous peoples, ecosystems, and marginalised communities, defending their right to survive. We also pray for our leaders, that they may abandon destructive models of growth that deplete irreplaceable natural resources. And we pray for our Church leaders, that they may remain steadfast in their mission to safeguard Creation, shaping policies that prioritise human well-being and sustain life on Earth.

I close with words from the March 2025 Pastoral Letter of the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences:

"These ecological tragedies affect Asia's poorest and most vulnerable communities—coastal families whose homes are washed away, farmers who can no longer grow crops, and children who suffer from polluted air and water. Political leaders, government policymakers, and decision-makers, especially the lay Catholics among them, must be reminded: the choices you make today will be judged by the generations to come. Will you leave behind a planet scarred by exploitation, or a home that reflects the beauty of God's Creation?"

(Guest Editorial) Bishop Allwyn D'Silva is Bishop In-Charge of the Social Apostolate of the Archdiocese of Bombay.

Rising Again on Wings of Prayer

Life is a journey filled with trials, failures, and moments of despair. Every individual, at some point, experiences setbacks that may cause them to stumble, lose hope, or fall morally, emotionally, or spiritually. Yet, history and faith both attest to a powerful truth: fallen humans are not destined to remain fallen. The image of rising on wings of prayer is particularly evocative, suggesting a sense of transcendence and liberation. It's a reminder that, no matter how fallen or lost we may feel, we have the capacity to rise again, renewed and revitalised, through the power of prayer. "Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith." (Mt 21:22). Prayer serves as that path. It is not merely a ritual of words, but a heartfelt communication with the Divine. In times of despair, prayer becomes a lifeline, a source of strength, and a medium of hope. It allows individuals to confess their weaknesses, seek forgiveness, and find guidance. Through prayer, a fallen soul acknowledges its need for grace, and opens itself up to transformation.

Importantly, rising again through prayer does not mean an instant erasure of past mistakes. Rather, it is a process—a journey of healing, restitution, and inner rebuilding. But it is a journey made possible by the first step of turning to God in trust and humility. In doing so, the fallen begin to rise—not by their own strength alone, but lifted by the grace and hope found in prayer.

In a profound gesture steeped in tradition and grace, when Pope Francis opened the Holy Door at St Peter's Basilica, he marked the beginning of the Jubilee Year and invited the faithful into a time of mercy, renewal and spiritual pilgrimage. Pope Francis' gesture of opening a Holy Door in a Roman prison (Rebibbia Prison) was a powerful symbol of hope and inclusion, extending the Jubilee year's message of mercy and forgiveness to those who languish behind bars. It was a first-time event in Jubilee tradition, and served as a potent reminder that God's mercy extends to all, even those in prison. The prison door, usually associated with confinement, was transformed into a gateway of hope, reminding the world that redemption knows no barriers. The Pope emphasised that hope should not be lost, even in difficult circumstances, and that the open door symbolises the openness of the human heart.

Our prayer can also be a means for them to cope with the challenges of incarceration, such as separation from loved ones, loss of freedom, and the struggle to maintain a sense of purpose and identity. St Maximilian Kolbe's gesture of prayer for the prisoners was a powerful and enduring symbol of faith, compassion, and self-sacrifice. He quietly led prayers, heard confessions, and gave hope in a place filled with despair. His gesture of prayer was both literal and symbolic; he knelt, blessed others, and prayed aloud or silently for those suffering around him. The most profound example of his gesture of prayer was during his final days, after volunteering to take the place of another prisoner. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." (Philippians 4:6)

In conclusion, to fall is not the end of the human story. Every fall carries within it the seed of a new beginning. Prayer is the sacred tool that enables this transformation, offering wings to those who have stumbled, so that they may rise again—not only restored, but renewed. Our Prayer can thus be a lifeline, providing a sense of hope and redemption that can help them to navigate the challenges of their situation. "After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before." (Job 42:10)

This Prison Ministry Sunday, let us intercede for our incarcerated brethren, and see prayer act as "wings of hope" lifting them above their circumstances, providing them with strength and guidance to overcome challenges, and ultimately leading them towards a more fulfilling and hopeful future.

(Guest Editorial) Fr Glasten Gonsalves, Director, Prison Ministry Mumbai 

The Price of Convenience: Reflections on a Cashless Society

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

Digital, online, or electronic payments have, over time, woven themselves into the very fabric of our daily existence. Their adoption accelerated rapidly during the COVID-19 pandemic, when physical currency—tainted by human touch—was shunned in favour of contactless alternatives. In the years since, the convenience of digital transactions has become a norm, from purchasing high-end consumer goods to paying for the most modest of grocery items. Yet, amid this sweeping transformation, we are compelled to pause and consider: What is the true cost of a cashless society—not merely in economic terms, but in its impact on our mental and emotional well-being?

A digitised economy offers obvious advantages to governments—facilitating taxation, curbing untraceable transactions, and increasing financial transparency. But what serves the State may not always serve the individual. Moreover, despite our technological strides, a wholly cashless economy remains more aspiration than reality. Take, for instance, Mumbai's iconic Crawford Market, where seasoned shoppers still arm themselves with cash, fully aware that many vendors remain averse to digital transactions.

The generational divide is also apparent. Young people, having come of age in the digital era, have seamlessly integrated online payments into their daily habits. Churches today report dwindling collections from younger congregants who seldom carry physical cash. In response, places of worship have begun to adapt—QR codes now adorn church stalls during feast days, offering a digital pathway for even the humblest of donations, such as ten rupees for a glass of soda.

But how, one might ask, does the shift to a digital economy alter our personal relationship with money? The phenomenon known as the Cashless Effect speaks to a subtle yet profound change in consumer behaviour: when transactions are stripped of physical currency, we tend to spend more. The mere tap of a card or swipe on an app renders the act of payment almost frictionless, removing the psychological discomfort typically associated with parting with tangible money. The old adage "out of sight, out of mind" rings truer than ever; money we do not see feels less real, and thus, easier to let go.

This dynamic, however, varies across age groups. Older generations, who lived through an era when cash was king, often perceive digital payments as less authentic, more abstract. For Generation Z, digital natives through and through, the inverse is often true. To them, cash feels oddly disconnected from financial reality—an ephemeral form of "free money" that, once spent, does not immediately register in their bank balance. Paradoxically, while older individuals may be more prone to overspending in a cashless world, the younger generation—constantly monitoring their digital expenditures—might actually display greater fiscal caution.

Yet the march toward digitisation carries social consequences as well. It risks alienating those on the margins of society—the rural poor, the elderly, the technologically illiterate—who lack access to reliable internet services or digital literacy. In November 2016, India undertook a sweeping demonetisation policy, invalidating ₹500 and ₹1,000 notes overnight. While intended to curb corruption and nudge the nation towards digital payments, the move disproportionately affected the most vulnerable. A study of 90 households in West Bengal revealed that their income fell by 15.5% in the two months following the policy shift. For those without access to banks or smartphones, cash remained their only viable means of exchange—one that was suddenly rendered worthless.

Furthermore, as digital transactions proliferate, so too does the power of governments to surveil and regulate our financial lives. While transparency may combat illicit activity, it also raises serious concerns about privacy and autonomy. There is, too, the ever-present threat of cyber theft—an invisible yet potent force capable of draining entire bank accounts in a matter of seconds.

Religious institutions, including churches, are not immune to these shifts. They must now re-imagine their approach to fundraising and community support. The younger faithful are more inclined to contribute electronically, often in larger sums, but less frequently. Consequently, churches must embrace tools like QR codes and secure online portals, while simultaneously maintaining traditional cash collection methods for those who prefer them. This transition must be handled with care—ensuring robust digital protections to safeguard both donations and donor data from malicious intent.

The Flock must also care for its Shepherds

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

When John F. Kennedy delivered his stirring inaugural address, he left us with a timeless challenge: "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." Those words, though spoken in a political context, hold a truth that transcends their moment in history. They can—and perhaps should—be applied to the life of the Church as well.

For most of the year, the parish priest lives beneath a magnifying glass. Every word, every action, every omission is weighed and scrutinised by the faithful. Is he attentive to his flock? Does he visit the sick and the homebound? Is he responsible with parish finances? Does he dedicate himself to preparing his homilies? Does he keep the church and its grounds in good order? These are valid questions; after all, we have every right to expect diligence and devotion from those entrusted with our spiritual care.

But Vianney Sunday, the day we honour the patron saint of parish priests, invites us to turn that lens upon ourselves. It is a day to ask not what our priests are doing for us, but what we are doing for them.

The modern priesthood is beset with challenges that few could have imagined a generation ago. The decline in vocations has stretched our clergy thin, forcing them to shoulder ever heavier pastoral burdens. The demands of ministry have grown more complex, too, as parishes expand into new and specialised apostolates. One parish in Mumbai, for instance, oversees more than forty different Cells and Associations—an administrative and pastoral feat by any standard.

Beyond the pulpit and the sacristy, priests wrestle with a host of pressures. Administrative duties, legal entanglements, property disputes, and financial stewardship consume vast amounts of their time and energy. Meanwhile, the emotional and social toll of priestly life is real, even if it is rarely acknowledged aloud. Loneliness and isolation often creep in, feeding anxiety and stress. Erratic schedules, long hours, poor diets, and the harshness of urban living can lead to illness, sometimes alarmingly early in life.

Here, the laity must recognise their role—not as passive observers, but as partners in the care of their spiritual fathers. Too often, our gestures of affection, though well-meaning, inadvertently harm more than they help. On feast days or birthdays, parishioners may shower their priests with food—snack boxes brimming with fried delicacies, spicy curries, patties, chips, and, on birthdays, no fewer than half a dozen cakes. One senior doctor, speaking humorously yet pointedly at a clergy health seminar, remarked, "Fathers, your parishioners are killing you with love!"

Would it not speak more truly of our care if we gifted our priests wholesome meals, nourishing food, and a genuine concern for their well-being?

We can—and should—do more. A simple phone call or visit to ask, "Father, are you resting enough? Are you eating well? When was your last check-up?" could go a long way. We might even take it upon ourselves to clear out the junk in the rectory refrigerator, and replace it with healthy options. Some will argue that priests should manage their own health, but that is easier said than done for men who live under relentless pressure, far from the natural support of family life.

A happy priest, after all, makes for a happy parish.

On this Vianney Sunday, as we lift up our prayers for our priests, we should remember how deeply their lives intertwine with our own. They are there from the cradle to the grave: at baptisms, First Communions, weddings, funerals. They are friends, counsellors, teachers, advisors, and, at times, the reluctant recipients of our frustrations. They serve with a smile, planting and uprooting themselves, as the Church sends them from mission to mission, often at a moment's notice. Like rare celestial visitors, they enter our lives, leave their mark upon our hearts, and then move on, carrying their quiet sacrifices with them.

May St. John Marie Vianney, the humble Curé of Ars, intercede for our priests. And may we, their spiritual family, remember not only to honour them with words, but to care for them with the same love and dedication they so tirelessly offer us.

What Great Parenting Can Learn  from Ignatian Spirituality

Since Parents/Grandparents Day and the commemoration of St Ignatius of Loyola are the two prominent themes that guide the content of this week's Examiner issue, a natural curiosity arises on what Ignatian spirituality can teach us about being great, loving and effective parents in our contemporary times. In today's fast-paced, digitally driven world, many parents strive to be good providers, caregivers, and role models. Yet, to move from simply being "good parents" to becoming "great parents," we need a deeper anchor—one that nurtures our children not only materially, but spiritually and morally. The timeless wisdom of St Ignatius of Loyola, as expressed in his Spiritual Exercises, offers eight guiding aspects that can transform parenting into a vocation rooted in faith, purpose, and love. By embracing these principles, parents can shape homes where children flourish as compassionate, grounded, and resilient individuals.

1. Living for the Greater Glory of God

At the heart of Ignatian spirituality lies the call to live Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam—for the greater glory of God. For parents, this begins by making God the centre of family life, not merely as a Sunday ritual, but as a daily compass. Meals can start with gratitude, decisions can be guided by prayer, and milestones—both joyous and challenging—can be occasions to point children towards God's faithful presence. When parents lead lives oriented to God's glory, they naturally model for their children that true success isn't measured by grades, wealth, or social approval, but by a life lived in harmony with God's will.

2. Cultivating Self-Awareness Through Reflection

St Ignatius advocated the examen—a daily reflection on one's actions, desires, and relationship with God. Parents who practise this discipline grow in self-awareness, better understanding how their moods, reactions, and choices impact their children. Reflecting on questions such as, "Where did I nurture love today? Where did I fall short?" helps parents become more patient, intentional, and forgiving. Inviting children, in age-appropriate ways, to reflect on their day fosters a family culture of mindfulness, gratitude, and spiritual growth.

3. Fostering Union with Jesus

Parenting can be exhausting and isolating, but drawing near to Jesus provides strength and direction. St Ignatius' method of imagining oneself in Gospel scenes—the "application of the senses"—can deepen parents' empathy for Christ and His love. By walking with Jesus in prayer, parents learn to see their children with His tenderness, even in moments of defiance or struggle. Leading family prayers, reading Scripture together, or simply taking time to rest in God's presence creates a spiritual bond that anchors the home.

4. Practising Effective Love—Love in Action

St Ignatius reminds us that love is shown more in deeds than in words. For parents, effective love means being present: listening attentively to a child's fears, setting aside work to attend a school play, or establishing firm yet loving boundaries. It's the selfless sacrifice of waking at 2 a.m. for a sick child or patiently teaching a teenager to drive, even when frayed nerves beg for retreat. Such love, expressed through consistent action, teaches children that they are valued not for performance, but simply because they are loved.

5. Embracing the Spirit of Detachment

Detachment, in Ignatian terms, doesn't mean emotional withdrawal, but a freedom from clinging to things that distract from God. Parents often equate success with giving their children the "best"—the newest gadgets, top schools, endless activities. Yet, true greatness in parenting arises when we prioritise what draws our family closer to God: simplicity, gratitude, and meaningful relationships. Detachment frees parents from comparison and anxiety, allowing them to focus on virtues over possessions.

6. Serving with Humility

Parenting is, at its core, a life of service. St Ignatius identified three types of humility, culminating in the willingness to be a "fool for Christ." Great parents serve their families quietly, without seeking praise, embodying humility, even when unacknowledged. They apologise when wrong, listen to their children's perspectives, and place the family's needs above personal comfort. This witness teaches children that strength is found not in pride or power, but in self-giving love.

7. Practising Discernment in Family Life

Every parent faces countless decisions—how to discipline, where to live, which opportunities to pursue. Ignatian discernment invites parents to prayerfully weigh choices, paying attention to interior movements of peace or anxiety. By discerning God's direction, parents avoid acting out of fear, pride, or societal pressure, instead guiding their families along paths that nurture faith, integrity, and true joy. Teaching children this discernment helps them make wise, faith-filled choices as they mature.

8. Rooting Family Life in the Eucharist and Devotion to Mary

St Ignatius had a deep devotion to the Eucharist and Our Lady. Families that regularly participate in the Eucharist draw life from Christ Himself, finding strength for trials and renewal in His love. Marian devotion, too, nurtures trust and surrender, as parents entrust their families to Mary's care. Such practices ground children in a spiritual heritage that will sustain them beyond their parents' guidance.

(This editorial is based on the eight highlights of Ignatian Spirituality outlined by Fr John Froz SJ in his article '8 Gifts of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises' in this issue.)

Young Faith, Unmuted : DYC Leadership Day 2025

On a vibrant Sunday in July, in the heart of Dadar, at Dr Antonio da Silva Hall, nearly 500 young hearts gathered under one roof for the DYC Leadership Day, which was nothing short of electric. From the moment we walked in, we were wrapped in an energy that felt part revival, part reunion, and fully a glimpse of what the Church can be when young people are given space to lead, love, and live out loud.

The day, led by youth comperes Nihal and Karen, kicked off with prayer, grounding us in what truly matters – our connection with Christ and our commitment to our communities. The air was soon filled with powerful praise and worship led by the band "Staffroom" whose music stirred something deep in all of us. Hands were lifted, voices were raised, hearts were opened. It was a moment of raw, unfiltered connection with God.

Then the ever-energetic DYC Team got the crowd on their feet (and maybe even the ceiling!) with their power-packed action songs. And suddenly, the room exploded with movement, laughter, and energy. There's nothing quite like 500 young voices shouting praises, jumping in sync, and laughing through choreography.

Our Assistant Director, Fr Omar Fernandes, delivered a session that left a mark. With honesty and humility, he reminded us what the Church is truly about: not control or status, but service, courage, and authenticity. His words felt personal, like he wasn't just speaking to us, but with us. He convinced us that HOPE can never be lost.

A moment of special honour was the visit by Archbishop John Rodrigues, who spent time with us, listened to us, and shared his wisdom. His presence felt like an embrace from the wider Church, a reminder that our role as young leaders matters deeply. He shared his vision for Youth Ministry with us, and gladly fielded questions from the audience.

I was deeply moved by the testimonies shared by fellow CLAYM participants, who spoke about how the simple leadership programme transforms our faith, friendships, and leadership journeys. Their stories reminded me that DYC isn't just a place we come to; it's something that stays with us, shaping who we become.

Through all the sessions, prayer, dancing, and coffee breaks, one thing was unmistakable: the DYC (Diocesan Youth Centre) continues to be a home away from home for young people. It's where we find rest amidst the noise, where we reconnect with God and with ourselves. Ironically, it doesn't take us away from our parish youth ministries; it sends us back to our parishes, fully recharged with new fire, new vision, and stronger hearts.

For some of us, it's also a place of support when we need it most, a space where we're reminded that we are not alone, even when things feel heavy or lonely. Here, there is always someone cheering us on, even if we haven't met them yet.

The event saw a lively set of about 500 young leaders, all buzzing with excitement, questions, ideas, and faith. Behind the scenes, a team of incredible DYC volunteers poured their hearts into making this day what it was. In the process, as is customary at DYC, we became more than a team; we became family.

So thank you, from the depths of my heart, to the dream team of DYC: Deacon Ivan Fernandes, our Director, Fr Omar Fernandes, our Assistant Director, Sr Althiya, Sr Nevita, and the wonderful team of animators who treat us like we are family. You don't just lead us; you believe in us. And that belief changes lives. It changed mine.

To anyone who hasn't yet stepped into DYC, come! You won't just find a list of programmes. You'll find your people. And most of all, you'll find God waiting for you in the noise, in the music, in the stillness, and in the chaos. And if you're as lucky as me, maybe you'll even find yourself.

(Guest Editorial) Evita Roche hails from the Cathedral of the Holy Name, Colaba.