Justice Sunday: When Labour has a Human Face

Justice Sunday invites us to look at justice not merely as a question of laws, courts and human rights, but through something much closer to our everyday lives: the dignity of work and the dignity of the person who works. Every morning, millions of Indians leave their homes to build our cities, clean our houses, drive our vehicles, deliver our food, care for our children and elderly, work in factories, offices, construction sites, farms and shops. Others work from home, often invisibly, caring for families without a salary, designation or formal recognition. Behind every service we receive stands a human being whose labour has value because the person has value.

The International Labour Organization's Declaration of Philadelphia states a principle that remains remarkably relevant: "Labour is not a commodity." Work cannot be treated simply as something to be purchased at the lowest possible price. The ILO connects work with human dignity, economic security and equal opportunity. It also recognises freedom of association and collective bargaining among fundamental rights at work.

This principle is deeply compatible with Catholic social teaching. The Church has consistently taught that the human person must always take precedence over capital, profit and economic efficiency. Pope Leo XIV, in Magnifica Humanitas, recalls the Church's long tradition of defending the dignity of workers, fair wages and workers' associations. He reminds us that work is not merely a means of earning income; it is a fundamental good through which people express their freedom, creativity and contribution to society.

So what does justice require of us? It requires that a worker be seen as a person, not a cost centre.

A just society must ask whether a person's wages are sufficient to live with dignity; whether workers have safe working conditions; whether they can organise and collectively bargain; whether they have access to healthcare when illness strikes; and whether years of labour will leave them with some measure of security in old age. A pension should not be regarded as a luxury reserved for those fortunate enough to have formal employment. Healthcare should not disappear when a worker loses a job. And retirement should not mean choosing between medicines and food.

We must also remember the homemaker. Millions of women—and men—perform countless hours of unpaid work within the family. Cooking, cleaning, caring for children, supporting elderly parents and maintaining a household are essential contributions to the economy and to society, even though they often carry no payslip. Justice requires us to recognise that contribution with respect and dignity, rather than dismissing it as "not working."

The Gospel challenges our attitudes towards all these forms of labour. Jesus Himself spent most of His earthly life in the ordinary world of work as the carpenter's son. Christianity does not glorify wealth while diminishing labour. It sees work as part of human vocation and participation in God's continuing work of Creation.

The question for us on Justice Sunday is therefore deeply personal: How do I treat the people whose labour makes my life more comfortable? Do I pay fairly and on time? Do I provide humane working conditions? Do I speak respectfully to those who serve me? Do I allow workers to raise legitimate concerns without fear? Do I recognise the contribution of the person who works quietly in my home? Do I remember that the person sweeping the street or delivering my parcel has the same God-given dignity as I do?

The ILO's fundamental principles include freedom of association, collective bargaining, freedom from forced labour, non-discrimination, and a safe and healthy working environment. These are not merely economic demands; they are expressions of human dignity. Governments have a responsibility to create effective laws and social security systems. Employers have a responsibility to treat workers fairly. Trade unions and worker organisations have a responsibility to protect workers' legitimate interests responsibly. But each of us also has a responsibility in the small world entrusted to us.

On this Justice Sunday, let us therefore see Christ in the worker, respect Christ in the homemaker, defend Christ in the vulnerable, and serve Christ in those whose labour often goes unnoticed.

(Guest Editorial) Oriston Vaz, a retired corporate professional, is a regular contributor to The Examiner. 

Invitation, Not Imposition

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

The twin celebrations of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary and India's 80th Independence Day present a striking contrast between the ways of God and the ways of the world—a contrast that is perhaps more relevant today than ever before. The Assumption is not merely a singular privilege accorded to Mary; it is a profound revelation of how God lovingly invites humanity into the gentle embrace of His will, and beckons us to become citizens of the heavenly Kingdom. It is a Kingdom that embodies, in perfect measure, the fullness of life, liberty and joy—an ideal that earthly kingdoms strive for, but too often fail to attain.

Nearly eight decades after attaining independence, India remains, in many respects, a project still in the making—a nation forever described as "developing." Our visionary founding fathers laid the indispensable foundations of this great republic, most notably through the Constitution, whose ideals continue to inspire generations. Successive Governments have built upon that legacy, ushering in remarkable progress on all fronts. Yet, beneath these undeniable achievements lies a troubling reality. The national project appears to be losing moral momentum—an aspirational Ferrari now running on fumes. Enlightened and progressive ideals are increasingly being eclipsed by narrow, self-serving political calculations, where the overriding objective is not the common good, but the acquisition and retention of power at any cost.

It is worth reflecting that while God gently invites us each day to become more fully the persons He created us to be, the world relentlessly imposes its material ambitions, ideological agendas and manufactured narratives upon us. The fruits of these opposing approaches could not be more different. God's invitation leads to freedom, communion and the joy of heaven. The world's impositions leave behind fractured societies, broken trust, war and violence, deepening inequalities, multifaceted poverty, crushed dreams, and a pervasive loss of hope.

The Assumption of Mary stands as the Gospel's enduring antidote to the failed political instincts of every age. It proclaims that God's plan for humanity is never imposed, but lovingly offered. In assuming Mary, body and soul, into heavenly glory, God reveals His ultimate desire for every human person: to share in the Resurrection of His Son, and attain the flourishing of our humanity in Him.

Mary spends her entire life saying "Yes" to God. At the close of her earthly pilgrimage, God, as it were, says "Yes" to Mary. The Assumption is God's loving affirmation of a lifetime of faithful discipleship. It echoes the words of Christ: "Well done, good and faithful servant... Come and share your master's happiness" (Mt 25:23). In Mary, we discover a God who never coerces, but always fulfils every promise made to those who trust in Him.

Mary's own hymn of praise, the Magnificat, reveals God's style of leadership with breathtaking clarity: "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly." Human politics often pursues greatness by climbing over others. God's Kingdom, however, exalts those who stoop to serve. Mary is never portrayed as seeking recognition or influence. She simply visits Elizabeth in loving service, nurtures Jesus with quiet fidelity, and remains steadfast beneath the Cross when others flee. Her humility becomes the path to her exaltation. In the Assumption, the Gospel proclaims the ultimate reversal of worldly politics: those who seek power are brought low, while those who surrender themselves to God are lifted high.

If India is truly to realise its promise of justice, development and happiness for all, it must recover this divine style of leadership. Invitation, not imposition, must become the hallmark of authentic governance. Yet today, far too much is being imposed upon ordinary citizens, particularly upon the vulnerable and marginalised: restrictive legislation such as the FCRA regulations and anti-conversion laws, hastily executed SIR drives, crushing inflation and an ever-growing tax burden, a compromised media landscape, politics bereft of ethics and public trust, the reckless destruction of the environment, unequal patterns of development, diminishing employment opportunities, and the relentless pressures of an increasingly stressful way of life. The list continues to grow.

Can India truly ascend to the pinnacle of greatness if her own people are not invited to become active participants and valued collaborators in her story? A nation flourishes not when its citizens are controlled, but when they are trusted; not when they are silenced, but when they are heard; not when they are manipulated, but when they are inspired to contribute to the common good.

The kingdoms of this world rise by imposing themselves upon others. The Kingdom of God grows through invitations freely embraced. As we celebrate both the Queen assumed into heaven and the freedom of our beloved nation, may we choose the path of invitation over imposition, of service over domination, and of love over fear.

Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth, pray for India.

More Ars, Less Activity

Every year, on August 4, the Church celebrates the feast of St John Marie Vianney, the humble Curé of Ars and patron saint of all priests. In an age captivated by influence, visibility and measurable success, the life of this unassuming French priest offers a strikingly different vision of pastoral ministry. He did not build institutions, launch ambitious programmes or fill calendars with events. Instead, he transformed a village—and eventually inspired the world—through prayer, the confessional, the Eucharist, and the quiet, faithful accompaniment of God's people.

His life poses a timely question to the Church today: What does it mean to be an effective priest in the twenty-first century?

The question is all the more urgent because today's priest ministers in what leadership thinkers describe as a VUCA world—a world that is volatile, uncertain, complex and ambiguous. Society changes at dizzying speed. Artificial Intelligence, social media, migration, fractured families, economic uncertainty, mental health crises, political polarisation and increasing secularisation have altered the landscape of pastoral ministry. Priests are expected to be administrators, counsellors, communicators, financial managers, event organisers, social media influencers and community leaders, often all at once. Expectations continue to multiply, while vocations, in many places, continue to decline.

In such a climate, there is a real temptation to measure priestly effectiveness by activity. The busier the parish calendar, the greater the perceived success. Meetings, seminars, festivals, fund-raisers, youth programmes, committees and social initiatives have their place, and can bear much fruit. Yet, activity alone cannot be the measure of authentic pastoral ministry.

St John Vianney reminds us that the Church has always been renewed not by frenetic busyness, but by holy priests.

The Curé of Ars was no extraordinary organiser. He possessed neither remarkable academic brilliance nor charismatic eloquence. Yet, thousands travelled to the tiny village of Ars, because they encountered something increasingly rare: a priest completely given to God. He spent long hours before the Blessed Sacrament, preached simple but heartfelt sermons, celebrated the Eucharist with profound reverence, and dedicated himself tirelessly to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. His ministry flowed not from efficiency,, but from intimacy with Christ. That remains the enduring lesson for every priest today.

The answer to a VUCA world is not merely better management strategies or more sophisticated pastoral planning, important though these may be. The answer is priests whose interior life is deep enough to withstand the pressures of an increasingly distracted culture. A priest who does not first belong to God will eventually struggle to belong meaningfully to his people.

People today are not merely searching for information; they are searching for meaning. They do not simply need efficient administrators, but spiritual fathers. Amid the noise of endless opinions, they long to hear the Gospel proclaimed with conviction. Amid loneliness and anxiety, they seek someone who will listen without rushing, accompany without judging and remind them that God has not abandoned them. This is where St John Vianney speaks with remarkable relevance. His greatest pastoral strategy was presence—presence before God and presence with His people. From that double fidelity flowed everything else.

Pope Francis frequently reminded priests that shepherds must be close to God, close to their bishops, close to one another, and close to the people entrusted to them. Pope Leo XIV has likewise emphasised that authentic Christian leadership begins not with performance, but with communion—with Christ and with the faithful. Such closeness cannot be manufactured through programmes alone. It grows through prayer, availability and the patient ministry of accompaniment.

This does not diminish the importance of innovation or pastoral creativity. The Church must continue to engage new realities with imagination and courage. Digital evangelisation, youth outreach, ecological responsibility and social justice – all demand serious attention. But these initiatives bear lasting fruit only when rooted in the essentials of priestly identity.

Perhaps the Curé of Ars offers today's Church not a nostalgic return to the past, but a prophetic correction for the future. In an age obsessed with doing more, he reminds us first to become more. In a culture that rewards visibility, he points us towards holiness. The Church needs priests who are competent, creative and courageous. But above all, she needs priests who are contemplatives in action—men whose ministry is sustained by prayer, whose preaching springs from personal encounter with Christ, and whose lives testify that God remains the answer to humanity's deepest questions.

(collated from online sources) 

Gen Z stands up Tall and Proud

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

There was something different in the air this time. Many adults tend to look down on Gen Z with a certain disdain—a generation supposedly immersed in their phones, endlessly doom-scrolling, making reels, or texting people sitting in the very same room. Yet, recent events have shown us that these young people are capable of harnessing those same devices to shake deeply entrenched political structures, and compel a thrice-elected Government to bow to their demands. Our political parties may be delulu, but Gen Z certainly is not. Their goals are clear, and their expectations are high. They want social systems that are fair and just, governance that is free of corruption, a society where hard work and merit are genuinely rewarded, and above all, they want to be trusted.

I have been with young people for a long time now, and I must honestly admit that I have never seen them so invested in rallying for political or social causes. Peace marches, candlelight vigils, and silent demonstrations have traditionally been considered the domain of adults. Couple this with the fact that a large section of the adult Christian community rarely looks beyond church worship and community celebrations, and we are left with a community that is largely ignored by the political establishment. Recent legislations, widely perceived to be targeted at minority communities, only reinforce this reality. Today, our community has little voice in politics or public life. A few brave souls are striving to change that.

However, this may well be changing. Gen Z has come into its own. The powers that be have now witnessed their courage, their quirkiness, their irreverent humour, and their distinctly techno-cultural language—a language that threatens to dismantle outdated structures that have held sway for far too long. For the first time, I saw our Catholic youth turning out in large numbers to join protest groups across the city. Their social media stories and reels were filled with videos from protest sites, accompanied by memes that creatively and humorously conveyed a simple message: they no longer respected authority that refused to listen to their voices, acknowledge their aspirations, or care about their future. The old "Chalta hai" attitude has disappeared, and the resigned "Nothing's going to change, yaar" mentality has been discarded. In fact, many young people were disappointed when the Education Minister's resignation was announced; they had already geared themselves up to protest again the following day.

Today's young people are tired, frustrated, and increasingly disillusioned. Many quietly bury their dreams of pursuing higher or specialised education, because of financial constraints and the ever-rising cost of education. Others eventually realise that years of study fail to secure meaningful employment. Quite a few find themselves working in professions entirely unrelated to what they studied, simply because opportunities in their chosen fields are too few and fiercely competitive. Even those fortunate enough to secure employment often discover that career progression is hindered by corporate and institutional cultures where influence, networking, and belonging to the "right" circles matter more than talent. Hard work and merit are celebrated in speeches, but are seldom rewarded in practice. Is it any surprise, then, that so many from our community aspire to settle abroad?

The situation in our parishes sometimes mirrors what is happening in society. Years in Youth Ministry have made me privy to the anxieties, disappointments, and quiet resentment that many young people carry. They are often spoken down to, denied responsibility, and yet conveniently blamed when things go wrong. Different standards are applied to adults and to the young. Their commitment is questioned, their faith dismissed as immature. Is Confirmation the sacrament that makes one an adult, or is it Marriage? Some clarity would certainly be welcome. A 25-year-old Eucharistic Minister in her parish was recently asked who had "allowed" her to become one. Mind you, this young woman has served faithfully in parish ministry since her school days, has a commendable faith, and a personal life beyond reproach, and has remained deeply loyal to every priest she has served with. Yet, for some, her age alone is reason enough to cast doubt on her suitability.

What recent events have revealed is that trust, accountability, justice, fairness, and good governance are no longer lofty ideals or fictional folklore. They have become the rightful expectations of today's young people. Look around the world—needless wars, environmental devastation, corporate and political corruption, a deeply compromised media, unemployment, rising inflation coupled with stagnant wages, unaffordable housing, an economy trapped in perpetual EMIs, crumbling infrastructure, hazardous AQI levels, and bloated bureaucracies that make everyday life an exhausting struggle. The rulers of today's world have failed.

The youth have had enough. Gen Z has finally awakened from its slumber. And perhaps, just perhaps, that awakening is the beginning of something far greater than a protest; it may well be the beginning of a generation determined to reclaim its future.

The Gift and Grace of Christian Parenthood

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

As we celebrate Parents' Day on the Feast of Saints Joachim and Anne, the beloved parents of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Church invites us to rediscover both the profound joy and the sacred responsibility of parenthood through the lens of the Gospel.

In the opening pages of Scripture, God entrusted our first parents with the Garden of Eden—a lush sanctuary overflowing with fruit-bearing trees, vibrant flora, and every living creature. They were called not to possess Creation, but to cultivate, protect, and lovingly steward it. So too are children among God's most precious gifts. They are entrusted to parents not as possessions to be owned, but as lives to be cherished, nurtured, and gently formed into faithful disciples close to the heart of Christ.

This truth is beautifully captured in the question posed to every couple on their wedding day: "Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the Law of Christ and His Church?" These words are far more than a ceremonial promise. They are a lifelong covenant—a solemn commitment to raise children not merely for worldly success, but for eternal life.

Yet, Christian parenthood has never been without its challenges, and perhaps never more so than today. The noble desire to provide a secure and comfortable future often compels parents to spend long, exhausting hours away from their children. Financial anxieties persuade many couples to limit the size of the family they had once dreamed of building. Material concerns increasingly shape decisions that were once guided by faith and trust in Divine Providence.

In 2015, Pope Francis candidly lamented a growing tendency among couples to choose comfort over children. He observed that many preferred "a good lifestyle"—travel, leisure, personal freedom, and even pets—to the demanding, yet immeasurably rewarding, vocation of raising a family. He traced declining birth rates to what he called a "culture of well-being," where comfort often eclipses sacrifice.

But is money truly the heart of the problem? Maybe not. Children rarely measure love by the price of gifts or the size of a house. They delight in the ordinary—in the playtime with their parents, siblings and friends, shared laughter around the dining table, and the boundless adventures of an imaginative mind. A cardboard box often becomes a castle; a handful of pebbles, hidden treasure. Childhood flourishes not in abundance, but in affection.

Perhaps an even deeper crisis confronts many Christian families today—one that touches the very promise made at the altar.

The second part of the marriage covenant asks parents whether they will raise their children "according to the Law of Christ and His Church." Sadly, this commitment is increasingly treated as optional. Sunday Mass is often sacrificed at the altar of convenience, and faith formation is reduced to something reserved for the years of First Holy Communion and Confirmation. Once the Sacraments are received, many children quietly disappear from parish life. It is not uncommon today for a young person preparing for Confirmation to approach the Sacrament of Reconciliation for only the second time in life—the first having been before First Holy Communion. Such moments invite us to pause and ask ourselves whether we have unintentionally allowed our children's spiritual lives to become secondary to every other priority.

Our children are increasingly educated outside Catholic schools, and grow up in homes where family prayer is infrequent or absent. If they encounter neither the faith-filled atmosphere of the Christian home nor the worshipping life of the Church, where will they learn to recognise the voice of the Good Shepherd?

Academic excellence, sporting achievement, music lessons, and extracurricular activities all contribute richly to a child's growth and future. They deserve encouragement and support. Yet, if these pursuits consistently eclipse faith, prayer, and worship, are we truly honouring the God of Life, who first entrusted these children to our care? Without noticing, we risk filling our children's calendars, while leaving their souls undernourished.

Christian parenthood is, above all, a vocation of trust. Rooted solely in worldly calculations, it can appear burdensome and overwhelming. Rooted in God's grace, however, it becomes a joyful cooperation with His loving plan.

This celebration also coincides with the World Day of Grandparents and the Elderly, a fitting reminder that the wisdom of generations is one of the Church's greatest treasures. Grandparents are not merely cherished relatives; they are living repositories of faith, memory, resilience, and unconditional love.

Modern society, however, has increasingly normalised the separation of generations. Nuclear families often live at a distance from grandparents, and newly married couples are frequently encouraged to establish homes independent of their parents. While circumstances differ for every family, such separation can unintentionally deprive children of one of God's greatest gifts: the quiet, patient presence of grandparents.

In this year's message for the World Day of Grandparents and the Elderly, Pope Leo encourages young people to visit their grandparents frequently, to spend time with elderly family members, and even to seek out those elderly persons who have no one to visit them. Such encounters enrich both generations, reminding us that love grows stronger when it is shared across the years.

The lives of Saints Joachim and Anne offer us a beautiful model. As the grandparents of Jesus and the parents of Mary, they helped create the spiritual environment in which the Blessed Virgin learned to pray, to listen attentively to the voice of God, and to embrace His will with unwavering trust.

That is precisely the calling of every Christian parent. Our task is not to script every chapter of our children's lives, nor to engineer every detail of their future. Rather, it is to create homes where faith is lived naturally—homes marked by love, encouragement, forgiveness, joy, and prayer. Within such an environment, children gradually discover God's voice for themselves, and mature into the disciples Christ desires them to become.

Growth itself is one of God's quiet miracles. Just as a seed germinates unseen beneath the soil before it springs to life, so too does the Lord patiently shape the hearts of our children in ways hidden from our eyes. Our responsibility is to sow faithfully; God alone gives the increase.

As we celebrate the priceless gifts of parenthood and grandparenthood, we offer heartfelt gratitude for those whose love has shaped our lives. Parents are often our first teachers, our steadfast companions, our strongest advocates, and the anchors who steady us through life's storms. Grandparents enrich our lives with wisdom, tenderness, and memories that become part of our own story.

May the Lord abundantly bless every parent and grandparent. May He reward every hidden sacrifice, strengthen weary hearts, renew fading hope, and gently lift them whenever the burdens of life become heavy. And may every Christian home become, like Nazareth itself, a place where faith is nurtured, love is freely given, and Christ is joyfully encountered.

The Gaze of the Witness 

In the quiet, pre-dawn shadows of the world's most famous garden, a woman stood weeping. Her eyes, blurred by grief, scanned the hollow emptiness of a tomb. When a figure approached and asked, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" she did not recognise Him through her tears, mistaking Him for the gardener. It was only when He uttered her name, "Mary," that the scales fell away. In that singular, breathless moment, the entire framework of human perception shifted. Mary Magdalene became the Apostola Apostolorum - the Apostle to the Apostles. She was trusted with the foundational kerygma of the Christian faith, commanded to go and tell the others what she had seen. 

She became, in essence, the very first catechist. She was not handed a textbook, a syllabus, or a set of rigid doctrinal propositions; she was given an encounter with a Person and a direct mandate to echo that encounter to the world. Yet, when she ran back to the locked rooms where the men hid in fear, her explosive theological revelation was met with a chilling wall of scepticism. The Gospel of Luke records that her words seemed to them an "idle tale," a fable born of hysteria. They did not see a chosen witness; they saw an unreliable woman. This profound tension between the radical truth of God's chosen witnesses and the rigid, insecure gatekeepers of religious institutions is not a relic of the first century. It is a living, breathing tragedy playing out in church halls, parish offices, and catechism classrooms today. 

To understand the friction that can settle into modern sacred spaces, we must contrast two distinct ways of looking at faith: the gaze of the Catechism and the gaze of the Catechist. The Catechism offers the beautiful, structured, and objective deposit of faith, teaching us what to believe. The Catechist, however, brings the living, breathing, and subjective encounter with the Risen Lord, showing us Whom we love. Tragedy occurs when the institutional structure prioritises the administrative safety of the textbook over the vulnerability of the person sharing it. When we teach children the faith, we point to the saints and teach them that the Holy Spirit blows where He wills, often choosing the young, the marginalised, and the unexpected to confound the wise. 

But a dangerous inversion happens when we turn the lens to the educators themselves. Too often, when an entrenched institutional gatekeeper looks at a young person or a woman who possesses a profound, vibrant theological understanding, they do not see a gift to be nurtured. Instead, through the distorted lens of human insecurity, they see a threat. Where the passionate theologian brings fire, fresh insight, and an uncorrupted passion for the truth, the insecure leader sees an intrusive disruption to their comfortable, administrative status quo. They see a mirror challenging their own complacency. 

This dynamic reveals a biting historical irony. In the narrative of the Gospels, women were never secondary characters or passive observers. They financially supported Jesus' ministry, walked the brutal road to Calvary when the male disciples fled, stood vigil at the Cross, and were the exclusive witnesses to the Resurrection. Jesus consistently shattered the patriarchal structures of His era, famously commending Martha's sister, Mary, and validating her right to learn theology, a radical, scandalous act in first-century Judea. When modern institutional gatekeepers push back against women or young, insightful voices holding theological authority, they repeat the exact sin of the Apostles in the Upper Room, dismissing the modern Mary Magdalenes who come bearing deep insight, branding their voices as out of order or unnecessary. 

It is a profound truth that the transmission of the faith relies entirely on human vulnerability. The text of the Catechism is safe; it sits quietly on a shelf. But a living catechist is completely exposed. When a parish environment becomes driven by bureaucratic compliance rather than true communion, leadership breaks down into an anatomy of quiet abuse. The envious gatekeeper deploys gossip, structural power, and political machinations to protect his ego. The vulnerable, passionate voice is systematically silenced and isolated for the crime of knowing their faith too well. Even the Parish Priest can find his mind poisoned by the whispers of jealous subordinates, transforming his pastoral gaze from one of Christ-like protection to one of institutional suspicion. 

When we reduce ministry to mere information management, we commit a quiet injustice against the Holy Spirit. We teach the children about the Fire, but we extinguish the people who actually carry it. The Church cannot afford to continue burning out its young and passionate thinkers, nor can it afford to let the heavy, dusty armour of institutional fatigue drown out the voices of those who have actually looked into the empty tomb. Just as Mary Magdalene had to endure the agonising transition from the grief of the tomb to the joy of the Resurrection, and then the painful dismissal by her peers, the modern catechist often undergoes a harrowing crucifixion of their idealism. 

We must return to the garden. We must look past the defensive walls of institutional power, and learn, once again, to see with the eyes of Christ. We need a Church where leaders are not threatened by the zeal of their teachers, and where catechists, like Mary, are trusted to run back to the community and shout the kerygma: "I have seen the Lord!" When our parishes finally prioritise the vulnerability of the encounter over the preservation of human egos, we will cease to be a bureaucracy of administrators, and become what we were always meant to be: a communion of witnesses running together into the daylight. 

(Guest Editorial) Andrea Alfred Pereira lives in Naigaon (W) and is a regular contributor to The Examiner.

Liberty, Conscience and the Soul of America 

On the 250th Anniversary of American Independence, the first American Pope calls the Nation back to its Founding Promise.

The celebration of a nation's founding is often an occasion for patriotic pageantry. Yet, at moments of profound political and moral division, anniversaries can also become occasions for national introspection. As the United States marked the 250th anniversary of its independence, Pope Leo XIV—history's first American pontiff—used one of the country's most prestigious civic honours not to celebrate power, but to remind Americans of the principles that gave their republic its moral legitimacy.

Accepting the Liberty Medal from the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia through a live address from the Vatican, Pope Leo XIV delivered what was, in effect, a meditation on the meaning of liberty, democracy, immigration and human dignity. The award, bestowed in recognition of his lifelong advocacy of religious liberty and freedom of conscience, placed him among distinguished past recipients such as John Lewis, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Malala Yousafzai.

Yet it was not the honour itself that captured attention. It was the message.

Liberty Before Power

At the heart of the Pope's address lay a principle that predates Constitutions, governments and political majorities: the inherent dignity of every human being.

His assertion that human dignity exists prior to the establishment of any state was not merely a theological proposition. It echoed the philosophical foundations upon which the American Declaration of Independence itself rests—that human beings possess certain inalienable rights, not because governments grant them, but because they are intrinsic to human existence.

This distinction matters profoundly in an era when political debates increasingly revolve around state power, executive authority and national security. By placing human dignity above political expediency, Pope Leo reminded his country that governments derive their legitimacy from protecting fundamental rights, rather than defining or limiting them.

In doing so, he subtly re-centred the American conversation on Constitutional morality rather than partisan politics.

America as a Nation of Immigrants

One of the most resonant themes of the Pope's address was immigration.

He celebrated successive generations of immigrants who transformed the United States into what he described as a beacon of freedom. Rather than treating migration as a contemporary political controversy, he situated it within America's historical identity.

That perspective carries particular significance at a time when immigration remains among the most polarising issues in American politics. The country's debates over border security, deportation, asylum and refugee policy have often reduced human stories to electoral slogans.

The Pope instead recalled a longer historical memory.

From the Irish fleeing famine and Italians escaping poverty to Jews seeking refuge from persecution, Asians building railroads, Latin Americans pursuing opportunity and countless others escaping conflict and repression, successive waves of migrants have continually renewed the American experiment.

The nation's strength, his remarks suggested, has never rested upon ethnic uniformity, but upon its remarkable capacity to integrate diversity within a shared Constitutional framework.

E Pluribus Unum (Out of Many, One)

Perhaps the most powerful historical reference in the address was the revival of the national motto, E Pluribus Unum (Out of Many, One). The phrase has long symbolised the American ideal that unity need not require uniformity. It reflects the belief that people of different races, faiths, languages and cultures can nevertheless belong to one political community.

For a nation experiencing increasing ideological polarisation, cultural anxiety and social fragmentation, the Pope's invocation of the motto carried obvious contemporary relevance. Rather than calling for conformity, he called for solidarity. The distinction is crucial. Democracies flourish not because citizens become identical, but because they recognise one another's equal dignity despite their differences.

A Voice Above Partisanship

Although Pope Leo avoided mentioning any political leader by name, his address inevitably entered America's highly charged political landscape. Its themes—human dignity, migration, religious liberty, peace and national unity—have all become central points of political contestation in recent years.

Yet, the Pope's speech resisted becoming a partisan intervention.

Instead of endorsing one political programme over another, he appealed to principles older than contemporary electoral divisions. His reference points were the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, the Gospel and the universal language of human rights rather than party platforms. That approach gave the address unusual moral authority. It reminded listeners that democratic societies require more than electoral victories. They require ethical foundations capable of sustaining disagreement without destroying national cohesion.

Peace Beyond National Borders

The Pope also broadened the conversation beyond America's domestic politics. Calling for peace in an increasingly unstable international order, he reiterated the Church's long-standing conviction that war represents a failure of politics and humanity alike. His appeal came at a time when conflicts across the globe continue to reshape international relations, produce humanitarian crises, and challenge the effectiveness of multilateral institutions.

Rather than celebrating military strength, the Pope urged Americans to recognise that their nation's global leadership ultimately depends upon moral credibility as much as strategic power. Throughout American history, the country's greatest influence has often flowed not simply from its economic or military capacity, but from its ability to inspire others through democratic ideals, Constitutional government, and respect for human freedom. The preservation of that moral influence, his remarks implied, remains an ongoing responsibility.

The Symbolism of Lampedusa

The symbolism surrounding the Pope's Independence Day observances proved almost as significant as the speech itself. While official America celebrated the nation's founding with patriotic ceremonies, Pope Leo chose to mark the occasion by travelling to Lampedusa, the Mediterranean island that has become one of the world's most poignant symbols of migration and humanitarian tragedy. There he honoured migrants who lost their lives attempting the perilous journey across the sea in search of safety and dignity.

The gesture reflected a consistent theme of his papacy: that national greatness is measured not solely by prosperity or military strength, but also by compassion for the vulnerable. It also underscored his conviction that the language of liberty carries meaning only when accompanied by a willingness to protect those whose freedom remains most precarious.

An Anniversary Worth Remembering

The 250th anniversary of American independence invited understandable celebration of one of history's most influential democratic experiments. But anniversaries acquire lasting significance only when they prompt nations to examine not merely what they have achieved, but also what they aspire to become. Pope Leo XIV's Liberty Medal address served precisely that purpose.

Rather than offering uncritical praise, he issued a respectful yet profound reminder that America's founding ideals remain unfinished responsibilities. Liberty requires justice. Democracy requires dignity. Patriotism requires inclusion. National strength requires peace.

These are neither exclusively religious teachings nor narrowly political arguments. They are enduring civic principles embedded in the best traditions of both American constitutionalism and the broader democratic ideal.

In recalling them, the first American Pope did more than accept an award. He invited his fellow citizens to remember that the true measure of a nation's greatness lies not in the celebration of its past, but in its continuing fidelity to the values upon which it was founded.

(Guest Editorial) Hasnain Naqvi is a former member of the History faculty at St Xavier's College, Mumbai.

Forging Forward into the Future 

Fr Joshan Rodrigues

The essence of life is growth and progress. As human beings, we are on a constant trajectory from birth to death, and our goal is to become the best version of ourselves, to live to the fullest and to fulfil the plans that God has for us…as we move along the journey of life. This is also true for the Earth that is constantly moving and shaping in collaboration with its inhabitants. 

Growing, innovating, re-inventing… are also buzzwords that The Examiner has been living by this last year. A publication even as storied as The Examiner with a legacy spanning almost two centuries cannot afford to rest on its laurels, but must be watchfully alert to the rapid advances happening around it. In what could rightly be described as the 'Techno-Intelligence Era' of the Earth, lightning-fast developments in the field of technology powered by 'smart' software and driven by machine intelligence, are changing the way human beings think, behave and act. 

Unfortunately, one of the negative downturns has been the rapidly declining influence of the printed word. Books, magazines, newspapers, journals, etc. are seeing less and less contact with human beings, which can only be described as a loss for the proliferation of human creativity and genius. Marking 100 years of the Vatican Publishing House on May 7 this year, the Holy Father Pope Leo offered a warm and timely defence of the written word in an age shaped by speed, screens, and ideological division. Books are a safeguard against intellectual laziness and extremism, he said. He urged people to read "as an antidote to closed-mindedness, which is reflected in rigid attitudes and reductive views of reality."

He reflected on three simple ideas: the book as an opportunity to think, to encounter others, and to proclaim Christ. "In the digital age," he said, "the physicality of the book reminds us of the role of thought, reflection and study." Reading, he added, "nourishes the mind" and helps form "a conscious and well-formed critical sense." He also had a word for Reading's twin sister Writing - "Writing is an act of humanity, observing that literature encompasses the full spectrum of human experience, gaining a breadth of perspective that broadens our humanity." "We develop an imaginative empathy that enables us to identify with how others see, experience, and respond to reality," he said. "Without such empathy, there can be no solidarity, sharing, compassion, or mercy."

This is why The Examiner is committed to the survival of the printed word, which I believe will far outlast any technology of our times. However, Print must acknowledge Digital Technology in a brotherly embrace, otherwise we will be writing our own obituary sooner than we think. We have thus launched into a 'digital mindfulness' policy that has resulted in a number of offerings this year: a renewed and reader-oriented website, people-friendly services such as a webpage listing the Mass timings of all 120+ parishes in our archdiocese (more such services are in the pipeline), diocesan news and programme announcements and a 'Sunday Family Page' aimed at Family Faith Formation. 

The Examiner also has a robust social media presence on Facebook and Instagram, providing up-to-date information, as well as a recently launched dedicated WhatsApp channel. We have also been conducting extensive surveys over the last two months to understand consumer behaviour and to understand better what our readers (and potential readers) would want and expect from a diocesan and national bulletin. These surveys have targeted different age groups, as well as active subscribers and laity active in Church ministry. The Examiner has also been conducting weekend outreaches across different parishes for promotion and interaction with its readers and supporters. 300 new subscribers have joined The Examiner family in the last three months alone. 

Glance through the pages of the magazine, and you will also notice a number of changes. New columns such as Science and Technology, Movie Reviews, Catholic Profile, and colourful centrespreads with photographs of parish, institutional and diocesan events, provide an entertaining diversity. Our vision is to become a more community-centred magazine that reflects and supports the beautiful faith life, spirituality and ecclesial dynamism of the people of the Archdiocese of Bombay. Our weekly mix of feature articles are also carefully selected to give our readers a weekly dose of spirituality, faith formation, doctrine, culture, social awareness, justice issues, technology, and of course, family life! Within this, we make sure that every age group is attended to. And we have a special love for our young people! 

Finally, The Examiner will conduct regular workshops to provide our readers, writers and lovers of the printed word to come together and share their passion. A workshop titled 'Ink and Inspiration' held in May this year was a huge success. More will follow. 

These musings on The Examiner and the path traversed in the year gone by are because the magazine celebrates its Foundation Day on July 10. And each year, this date reminds us of the immense privilege and responsibility that has been handed down to us by trailblazers of The Examiner's iconic history. The Examiner has kept pace with human history since 1850, and promises to keep innovating tirelessly in the future. We are sure that with the support of our loyal readers, friends and advertisers, The Examiner will continue to faithfully reflect Catholic Life in Mumbai and India for a long time to come. 

PS: A new offering in our anniversary issue! Commemorating the Franciscan Jubilee Year – 800 years since the death of St Francis of Assisi – we will publish a Children's Corner at regular intervals that will introduce them to the life and faith of this wonderful Saint. 

Beyond the Final Whistle Lessons of Faith from Football

Every four years, the world gathers around a football pitch. Nations pause. Streets fall silent. Families crowd around television screens. Strangers become companions for ninety minutes, united by hope, anxiety, celebration, and heartbreak. The FIFA World Cup is more than a sporting spectacle; it is a reminder of humanity's deep longing to belong, to strive together, and to be part of something larger than ourselves. In that sense, football offers a striking metaphor for the Christian life.

Pope Leo XIV recently reflected that life is not a race to be run in solitude, but "something played as a team." It is a lesson the Church would do well to remember. Modern culture prizes individual achievement. We celebrate stars, influencers, and self-made success stories. Yet, football exposes the illusion of solitary greatness. A gifted striker without teammates who pass the ball will achieve little. A brilliant goalkeeper cannot win a tournament alone. Every goal is the culmination of countless unseen acts of cooperation.

The same is true of faith. Saint Paul reminds us that "though many, we form one body in Christ, and each member belongs to all the others." Christianity is not a private spiritual project. The Church is not a gathering of isolated believers, but a living body in which every member contributes to the flourishing of the whole. Like a football team, we are called to trust one another, support one another, and play for a common purpose greater than personal glory.

The World Cup also teaches the value of discipline. Spectators see dazzling goals and moments of brilliance. What they do not see are the years of sacrifice behind them: the early mornings, the aching muscles, the relentless training, the quiet battles against fatigue and self-doubt. Excellence is forged in hidden places.

So too with holiness. Spiritual maturity does not happen by accident. Prayer, charity, forgiveness, self-control, and perseverance are not spontaneous achievements; they are habits cultivated through grace and effort. As Saint Paul observed, every athlete exercises self-control in all things. The Christian life is not an aimless stroll, but a purposeful journey towards God. We train not for a trophy that tarnishes, but for a crown that endures.

Yet, perhaps the most beautiful lesson football offers is the power of unity. In a fractured world marked by war, inequality, polarisation, and distrust, the World Cup creates moments of remarkable communion. Families gather. Neighbours celebrate together. Old differences are temporarily forgotten in the shared joy of a goal.

Bishop Ramón Castro Castro from Mexico describes the Church as participating in "the greatest match in history," with Jesus Christ as our captain. The image is compelling. Christ leads the team, not from the sidelines, but from the field itself. He sees the hidden pain of every player: the loneliness of the elderly, the uncertainty of the young, the suffering of the poor, the despair of those who have lost hope. He knows our weaknesses, yet He does not abandon us. Instead, He calls ordinary and imperfect people to become instruments of grace.

Indeed, God's team has never been composed of superstars. The apostles themselves were flawed, impulsive, and often fearful. Yet, Christ transformed them into witnesses who changed the world. The Church still depends not on flawless performers, but on faithful disciples—parents who teach the faith, young people who answer God's call, catechists who serve generously, and ordinary believers who love their communities.

As the tournament unfolds, it is worth remembering that every World Cup eventually ends. But the things that truly matter remain. Families still need our attention. Friends still need our presence. The lonely still need companionship. The wounded still need mercy. Peace, justice, and human dignity still require our commitment.

Football is a beautiful game. It teaches teamwork, discipline, sacrifice, perseverance, and unity. These are not merely sporting virtues; they are Christian ones. And when the final whistle sounds on both the World Cup and our earthly lives, the question will not be how many goals we scored for ourselves, but whether we played our part faithfully on Christ's team.

That is the victory that lasts beyond the final whistle.

(composed from various online sources)