Calculating the Date of Easter 

Last year 2025, Christians from all traditions celebrated Easter on the same day, April 20. But in many years, major Christian traditions celebrate Easter on different dates, thus giving the impression of a divided witness to this fundamental aspect of the Christian faith. In recent years, the desire to find a common date for the celebration of Easter, the Holy Pascha, the feast of Christ's resurrection, has become more and urgent. Initiatives by the Faith and Order Commission of the World Council of Churches have urged churches to address this issue. 

Q. Why isn't Easter on the same date every year – like Christmas, for instance?

A. The short answer is that in the 4th century, it was decided that Easter would fall after the first full moon following the vernal or spring equinox. (The equinox is a day in the year on which daytime and night-time are of equal length. This happens twice a year, once in Spring and once in Autumn.)

A more detailed answer would be this:

We know from the New Testament that Jesus' death and resurrection happened around the time of the Jewish feast of the Passover. According to Matthew, Mark and Luke's Gospels, the last meal Jesus shared with His disciples was a Passover meal, while John's Gospel says that Jesus died on the feast of Passover itself. In those days, the Jews celebrated Passover on the "14th day of the first month" in accordance with the Bible's commands (see Lev 23:5, Num 28:16, Joshua 5:11). The months of the Jewish calendar began at the new moon, so the 14th day would be the day of the full moon. The first month, Nisan, was the month that began from the Spring new moon. In other words, the Passover was celebrated on the first full moon following the vernal equinox, and was therefore a movable feast.

Early sources tell us that this very soon led to Christians in different parts of the world celebrating Easter on different dates. As early as the end of the 2nd century, some churches were celebrating Easter on the day of the Passover itself, whether it was a Sunday or not, while others would celebrate it on the Sunday that followed it. By the end of the 4th century, there were four different methods of calculating the date of Easter. In the year 325, the Council of Nicaea attempted to bring in a unified solution that would retain the link with the date of the Passover as celebrated in Jesus' time. Eventually, therefore, Easter's date was established as movable.

Q. So how is the date of Easter calculated?

A. The Council of Nicaea established that the date of Easter would be the first Sunday after the full moon following the  vernal equinox.

Q. Why, then, despite the universal rule laid down at Nicaea, do different parts of the Church still celebrate Christ's resurrection on different dates?

A. The first thing to remember is that, even after the Council of Nicaea, differences in the date of Easter remained, since the Council had said nothing about the methods to be used to calculate the timing of the full moon or the vernal equinox.

But the real problem behind the situation we have today arose in the 16th century, when the Julian calendar, which had been established in 46 BC, was superseded by the Gregorian calendar. It took some time for the new calendar to be adopted by all countries. (It did not happen in Greece until the start of the 20th century!) However, the Orthodox churches still use the Julian calendar to this day to calculate the vernal equinox and the full moon that follows it. This is why they calculate a different date.

Q. Why did the Gregorian calendar reform happen at all? Was it necessary?

A. The calendar reform established by Pope Gregory XIII was necessary because the Julian calendar used in those days had begun to lag behind astronomical reality - which is to say that by the time March 21 came around on the calendar, the actual, astronomical vernal equinox had already happened.

The fundamental problem behind this is that the astronomical year - that is, the time the Earth takes to make its journey round the sun - is not exactly 365 days; it's actually 365 days, five hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds. However, as the year has to be divided into equal portions for practical purposes, leap years had to be introduced to resolve the problem.

Source: oikoumene.org

Maharashtra Government Must Ensure Anti-Conversion Bill Upholds Justice and Equality

In any democracy, legislation must ultimately pass the test of the Constitution. Laws are most durable and legitimate when they protect the fundamental rights of citizens while addressing clearly identifiable public concerns. Clarity in legislative drafting, balance in regulatory approach, and fidelity to constitutional guarantees are therefore essential to sound law-making.

As per the website of Akashvani (https://www.newsonair.gov.in/maharashtra-government-approves-anti-conversion-bill-in-bid-to-prevent-religious-conversions/) and other news reports https://share.google/BQZV0aC1qPCkM3Mqv), the Maharashtra Cabinet has cleared a proposed Freedom of Religion Bill. The legislation is apparently meant to prevent religious conversions through force, fraud, or inducement. These are legitimate concerns in any society. However, laws of this nature must be grounded in clear evidence of widespread misuse rather than isolated incidents that could be addressed under existing criminal laws. Whenever statutory language is overly broad or imprecise, it risks extending beyond its seeming intended purpose. Careful drafting therefore becomes essential to ensure that the law addresses genuine wrongdoing without creating uncertainty or unintended consequences.

Experiences from other Indian states provide useful insights. States such as Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, and Uttarakhand have enacted laws intended to prevent conversions obtained through force, fraud, or inducement. Supporters view these laws as protective measures designed to safeguard vulnerable individuals and preserve social harmony.  Critics, however, contend that such laws restrict personal freedom of belief and create administrative hurdles for individuals who voluntarily choose to change their religion.   

There have been reported cases in which complaints filed by third parties, rather than by the alleged victim, turned out to be baseless and, at times, malicious. In a significant judgment involving the Uttar Pradesh Prohibition of Unlawful Conversion of Religion Act, 2021 in Fatehpur, a Supreme Court Bench comprising Justices J.B. Pardiwala and Manoj Misra quashed five First Information Reports.  The Court cautioned that “the criminal law cannot be allowed to be made a tool of harassment of innocent persons,” warning against prosecutions initiated on the basis of wholly unreliable material.

Civil society organisations, eminent jurists, and commentators across faiths have raised concerns regarding the potential misuse of broadly worded statutory provisions. At the same time, authorities in states where such laws operate maintain that enforcement actions are undertaken strictly in accordance with statutory mandates and remain subject to judicial oversight.

These competing perspectives underline the importance of precision and balance in legislative design. Clear definitions of what constitutes coercion or unlawful inducement, the requirement of credible evidence, and transparent procedures can reduce the possibility of misuse. Moreover, introducing provisions that impose proportionate penalties when complaints are made in bad faith, will further reinforce public confidence in the fairness and integrity of the law.

India’s constitutional framework offers clear guidance. The Preamble affirms the nation’s commitment to secularism, equality, and liberty of thought, expression, belief, faith, and worship. Article 25 guarantees the freedom of conscience and the right to profess, practice, and propagate religion. Article 19 protects freedom of expression, while Article 21 safeguards personal liberty, including the freedom to choose one’s faith.  The Supreme Court has interpreted Article 21 affirming that matters of belief, identity, and conscience fall within a protected sphere of individual liberty in Justice K. S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India.

Judicial precedent has also recognised the autonomy of adults in matters of faith and belief. In Shafin Jahan v. Asokan K.M., the Supreme Court emphasised that the Constitution guarantees individuals the freedom to choose their faith and life partner without undue interference from the State or society.

Any legislation concerning religious conversion must therefore operate within these constitutional parameters. The law must apply uniformly across communities and ensure that no faith tradition is either advantaged or disadvantaged. While the State has a legitimate role in preventing coercion or fraud, it must exercise that responsibility in a manner that does not intrude on an individual’s autonomy of belief or impose undue burdens on voluntary religious conversion. 

The addition of a provision in the Maharashtra Freedom of Religion Bill stating that if a “blood relative” of a person seeking to convert files a complaint alleging that the conversion is unlawful (through force, fraud, or inducement) the police must register a First Information Report and initiate an investigation, risks opening the door to third-party interventions in deeply personal decisions concerning one’s faith.

As Maharashtra’s proposed legislation moves through further stages of review and consultation, lawmakers have an opportunity to draw from the experiences of other states where such laws have sometimes produced unintended consequences, including communal tensions. Judicial pronouncements on questions of religious freedom, personal liberty, and state regulation offer valuable guidance. 

A carefully drafted law - supported by clear evidence, guided by constitutional principles, and accompanied by appropriate safeguards - can address concerns about coercion while preserving the freedoms that lie at the heart of India’s democratic framework.

Ultimately, legislation that balances public order with individual liberty is more likely to inspire public trust and strengthen social harmony. Transparent debate, careful drafting, and adherence to constitutional values will be essential to ensuring that any such law serves the broader goals of justice, liberty, and equality.  

Bishop Savio Fernandes

Auxiliary Bishop, Archdiocese of Bombay

Why do we accept fail­ure and call it demo­cratic fate?

 Dr Srinath Srid­haran

The Indore water tragedy exposes how cit­izen apathy and lowered expect­a­tions quietly sus­tain sub­stand­ard gov­ernance in India.

The deaths caused by contaminated drinking water in Indore should not surprise us, even as they horrify us. They fit too neatly into a familiar pattern in our midst, where preventable failures routinely claim or hurt lives, and are then absorbed into public consciousness as misfortune, rather than misconduct. Unsafe water, polluted air, collapsing bridges, overcrowded hospitals, and faulty infrastructure. These are no longer treated as governance breakdowns, but as hazards of living in India, to be endured with resignation. That resignation, more than corruption or incompetence alone, has become the most reliable ally of administrative failure.

Yet, the more disturbing question is why such events still fail to provoke sustained public demand for accountability. Tragedy briefly shocks us, but it rarely mobilises us. Outrage flickers, social media fills with indignation, television studios erupt in noise, and then attention moves on. Transfers are ordered, enquiries announced, and procedural closure declared. The deeper conditions that allowed the failure remain untouched.

India's relationship with public services is defined by lowered expectations. We complain constantly, yet we demand little. We curse the system, yet we rarely confront it in ways that impose cost. Unreliable infrastructure and public services are treated as inevitable fea­tures of national life, not as viola­tions of basic rights.

It is worth ask­ing why this tol­er­ance per­sists. Part of the answer lies in his­tory. Dec­ades of scarcity taught cit­izens to be grate­ful for access, rather than be insist­ent on qual­ity. Over time, grat­it­ude hardened into com­pli­ance. Another part lies in frag­ment­a­tion. This learned help­less­ness is rein­forced by a quiet but con­sequen­tial shift in civic beha­viour. Large sections of the middle class and the rich have exited pub­lic sys­tems, rather than reform­ing them. Bottled water replaces safe tap water; air pur­i­fi­ers replace clean air; private hos­pit­als replace pub­lic health­care; and gated com­munit­ies replace func­tion­ing muni­cip­al­it­ies. The exit offers imme­di­ate relief, but it car­ries a demo­cratic cost. It removes pre­cisely the voices that could have forced insti­tu­tional improve­ment, leav­ing fail­ure con­cen­trated among those with the least capa­city to demand redress.

This dynamic cre­ates a simple but cor­ros­ive equa­tion of demand and sup­ply. When demand for account­ab­il­ity is weak, the sup­ply of account­ab­il­ity shrinks. When cit­izens do not insist on stand­ards, insti­tu­tions optim­ise for sur­vival, rather than per­form­ance. Gov­ernance then becomes trans­ac­tional, man­aging optics and out­rage, rather than out­comes.

We speak of fate, des­tiny, and bad luck – lan­guage that absolves both the State and ourselves. Vic­tim­hood soothes grief, but dulls respons­ib­il­ity. It allows us to mourn without organ­ising, to sym­path­ise without insist­ing, and to move on without chan­ging beha­viour. Over time, this pos­ture becomes cul­tural. We learn to live with loss, rather than con­front its causes.

This is not to deny the State’s primary respons­ib­il­ity. Gov­ern­ments exist to provide safe water, clean air, and basic infra­struc­ture. Their fail­ure to do so is inex­cus­able.

The uncom­fort­able truth is that politi­cians and bur­eau­cra­cies respond ration­ally to this envir­on­ment. If out­rage dis­sip­ates in days, reform can be post­poned indef­in­itely. If pub­lic anger is loud but brief, sym­bolic ges­tures suf­fice. If cit­izens chan­nel their frus­tra­tion into gos­sip, memes, and per­form­at­ive out­rage rather than sus­tained civic action, the cost of failure remains low.

Urban decay across India illus­trates this dynamic with uncom­fort­able clar­ity. Noise pollution, cratered roads, fail­ing drain­age, unsafe foot­paths, chaotic traffic, and crum­bling pub­lic infra­struc­ture have become ambi­ent irrit­a­tions rather than civic emer­gen­cies. Citizens com­plain, adapt, and move on. Mean­while, polit­ical dis­course remains sat­ur­ated with claims of future-ready cit­ies and global ambi­tion. The con­tra­dic­tion per­sists because the demand for func­tional basics remains weak. In prac­tice, this leaves cit­izens little bet­ter than sub­jects under colo­nial rule, wait­ing for the powers that be to bestow even basic civic ser­vices as favours, rather than recognising them as rights.

It is also worth ask­ing how many of us even know the muni­cipal Ward office respons­ible for the loc­al­ity we live in, or the name of our corpor­ator bey­ond elec­tion sea­son. Power is sus­tained not only through neg­lect, but also through delib­er­ate fric­tion. Cit­izens are made to wait, shuffled between coun­ters, and exhausted by pro­ced­ure, fully aware that most do not have the lux­ury of tak­ing time off from their live­li­hoods merely to register a com­plaint. For all the rhet­oric around digital and e-gov­ernance, griev­ance redressal remains frag­men­ted, opaque, and often per­form­at­ive, more myth than mech­an­ism, designed to sig­nal responsive­ness.

The State, for its part, has per­fec­ted the theatre of account­ab­il­ity. Trans­fers, sus­pen­sions, com­mit­tees and enquir­ies provide the appear­ance of action, while pre­serving insti­tu­tional con­tinu­ity. These rituals are not fail­ures of gov­ernance. They are instru­ments of it, designed to absorb anger without alter­ing incent­ives.

There is also a reveal­ing asym­metry that deserves atten­tion. Indian cit­izens demand high stand­ards abroad and from private pro­viders. Air­lines, hotels, for­eign gov­ern­ments, and global insti­tu­tions are scru­tin­ised relent­lessly. The capa­city to demand exists.

What is miss­ing is the expect­a­tion that the Indian State must meet com­par­able stand­ards. This select­ive assert­ive­ness exposes the prob­lem not as cul­tural passiv­ity, but as con­tex­tual resig­na­tion.

It would, however, be dis­hon­est to place the entire bur­den on cit­izens without acknowledging the asym­metry they con­front. The State is not an easy sys­tem to chal­lenge. It is also layered with rent-seek­ing inter­me­di­ar­ies, informal gate­keep­ers, and pro­ced­ural obstacles that turn even basic enti­tle­ments into nego­ti­ations. Com­plaints invite delay, harass­ment, or quiet retali­ation, while res­ol­u­tion often requires time, con­nec­tions, or money that most cit­izens can­not spare. This breeds a raja-praja cul­ture where the author­ity expects defer­ence, and the cit­izens learn com­pli­ance as self-pre­ser­va­tion. In such an ecosystem, dis­en­gage­ment is often the rational response of those nav­ig­at­ing a sys­tem designed to exhaust, rather than empower them.

It is a con­veni­ent fic­tion to argue that demo­cracy empowers cit­izens, simply because elections are held. When the menu of qual­ity choices is almost bar­ren and every­day governance remains immune to con­sequence, vot­ing offers con­sent without cit­izenry control, and par­ti­cip­a­tion becomes sym­bol­ism rather than people power.

(Free Press Journal, January 7, 2026)

 Dr Srinath Srid­haran is a policy researcher and cor­por­ate adviser.

How to Choose the Right Godparent

 Simcha Fisher

The presider at Baptism asks the godparents, "Are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duty as Christian parents?" And the godparents respond, "We are."

But are they?

Baptism rites all over the country use the same words, but what it means to be "ready to help" varies by region, culture, generation, and even by individual Catholic. The work of choosing and being a godparent can lead to hurt feelings, dashed expectations—and the occasional influx of unexpected grace.

One common misunderstanding: Parents sometimes assume that "godparent" is the same as "legal guardian," while the godparents themselves expect to provide nothing more than a greeting card and an occasional prayer. While some faith communities may expect godparents to raise their godchildren if the parents die, neither civil nor Church law recognises such an obligation.

Leticia Ochoa Adams, a writer who lives in Texas, said that in Hispanic culture, choosing godparents is almost like adding to the family. At a recent family funeral, she found herself awash in "cousins" with whom she had no actual blood or marital ties; they were simply bound together through godparenting relationships.

"Asking someone to be a godparent is a big deal, kind of like asking someone to walk you down the aisle at your wedding," said Ms Adams.

Ms Adams was raised culturally Catholic—"statues all over the place," she said—but her mother did not go to Mass, and Ms Adams drifted toward the Baptist Church. When as a teenager, she gave birth to her first child, Anthony, she chose her uncle as the godfather. He was the one who had rescued her from an abusive household and raised her.

"It was 100 per cent a choice of respect," said Ms Adams. She said her tio was a "good Catholic," but she never expected him to teach her son any theology. It was understood that he would help raise the boy if the parents died, though. Anthony reciprocated by respectfully calling his padrino on his birthday and on Father's Day.

"My tio was super serious, but he was like a dad to me and Anthony, so the godparent thing just took it a step further. He was traditional like that," said Ms Adams.

Non-Hispanic Catholics are sometimes taken aback by the warmth and enthusiasm Hispanic godparents or Confirmation sponsors (often the same person) bring to the relationship. Barbara Dawson said that she barely knew Ruby, her daughter Bailey's Confirmation sponsor. But as soon as Bailey asked Ruby to sponsor her, she excitedly launched plans to buy Bailey a dress, shoes and jewellery.

"Her family was already buying candles and rosaries in Mexico, and she was planning to get Bailey stuff on her trip to Israel. I was absolutely floored. Basically, Ruby and her family adopted all of us," said Ms Dawson.

Choosing a friend or relative as godparent may enlarge the family, but it can also add to family drama and discord. Once a godparent is named, that person remains a godparent for life, no matter what else changes or falls apart.

When Ms Adams' husband, Stacey, was married to his now ex-wife, they chose his best friend and her sister as godparents to their three sons. After a series of divorces, remarriages and other upheavals, Ms Adams' husband's sister is now her ex-boyfriend's children's godmother, and the man for whom Stacey's ex-wife left him is his children's godfather—for life.

 Choosing the Right Godparent

Despite the life-long implications of choosing godparents, the parents themselves are often not the only party with a say in the decision. Some describe feeling pressure from friends and family to choose someone they consider to be unsuitable for the task. This was the case with Ms Adams' own godmother, who no longer acknowledges their relationship. Ms Adams herself chose some of her children's godparents under duress, simply to avoid offending family members.

"Now that I understand the role of a godparent, which is to be a support in teaching the faith and helping with the formation of the child, I feel like I was cheated, and like some of my kids were, too," she said.

But she calls her granddaughter's godmother "the ultimate godparent," who brings Christmas and birthday presents, lets her goddaughter walk the Stations of the Cross with her during Lent, and prays the Rosary for her every day.

So what does the Church actually require of godparents? How are they supposed to be chosen, and what are their duties?

Canon Law says godparents must be practising Catholics, be at least 16 years old (with some exceptions) and have received the three Sacraments of initiation (Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist). A non-Catholic Christian may serve as a Christian witness, but there must be at least one Catholic godparent. It is possible to have only one godparent, but if there are two, there must be one male and one female.

If the person to be baptised is a baby or young child, the godparent or godparents speak on his or her behalf at the baptism, responding to the question, "What do you ask of God's Church?" with the answer "Faith!"

But on the godparents' role after the baptism, the Church is less specific. The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that "faith needs the community of believers," and it names godparents as the most immediate members of that community for the newly baptised as their faith "unfolds."

Godparents, according to the Catechism, "must be firm believers, able and ready to help the newly baptised." They are an important part of the "ecclesial community [that] bears some responsibility for the development and safeguarding of the grace given at Baptism."

Joan Nelson, the Director of Evangelization for young families at St Edward the Confessor Church in Richmond, Va., is intimately familiar with that need for community. She has spent many years preparing parents for their infants' baptism and preparing children over the age of 7 who come into the Church through the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults.

Ms Nelson said that many older children who seek Baptism are not being raised Catholic, but attend Catholic school. They see their peers receiving the Sacraments and want that for themselves. Their parents, if they are Catholic at all, are usually agreeable to the idea, but are not always invested or catechised. Even if they are practising Catholics, she said, many do not know a single person who fulfils the criteria to be a godparent.

Ms Nelson often has the unpleasant task of telling them they cannot honour friends with the godparent role because they are not Catholic or because they are in an invalid marriage.

"No one gets involved in Church ministry because they want to make people unhappy," said Ms Nelson. "It's very difficult. If this person is taking tentative steps [toward the Church], and is hit with obstacles, he's going to say, 'Why did I bother?' and give up. And then I'll think it's my fault he's turned away from Jesus."

She tries to present the Church's teaching on godparents as a positive opportunity rather than a list of rules. "But sometimes the rules bring people back," she said.

She said it is common for people who were not confirmed, or even refused Confirmation earlier in their lives, to ask to be confirmed as adults, just so they can become godparents. Not long ago in her parish, a Catholic mother married to a non-Catholic man chose her younger brother as godfather. Her brother asked to be confirmed so he could be "a proper and good godfather" for his nephew.

"It brought him back to the parish, back to Mass, back to being engaged in the life of the Church in a way he hadn't been before," she said. And she holds out hope that the child's father will also draw closer to the Church. Ms Nelson said, "I say he's not Catholic—yet!"

 Baptism Basics

In the early days of Christianity, when persecution was rampant, the situation was reversed. Rather than using Baptism as an opportunity to draw in sponsors, the Church needed to be wary of infiltrators posing as catechumens. It was the baptismal sponsor's job not only to assist the new Christian in the development of his faith, but to vouch for his sincerity.

Today, it is far less likely that some impostor would seek Baptism under false pretences. Instead, the more pressing issue today is that parents desire Baptism for their children, without any real understanding of what the Sacrament means. There are also a few who are not practising Catholics, but the grandparents pressurise them to go through with it; sometimes they are simply looking for a beautiful backdrop for what they see as a purely cultural rite of passage for their baby.

 Ms Crino, the Director of Religious Education and a pastoral associate at St Emily Church in Mount Prospect, Illinois, has been working for the Church in Chicago for 34 years. Years ago, she co-authored a book on Baptism preparation, but she said it would not be useful now, considering how poorly catechised so many parents are. She said the book "assumed a level of conversation with the faith that a lot of parents just don't have."

Early in her career, Ms Crino would try to engage new parents in "long conversations about St Augustine and original sin," until she realised that the new moms were "ready to kill [her] because it was time to nurse." "I got out of that mode pretty fast," she said. Now she speaks more simply about what parents are asking for when they seek Baptism for their children.

 "I talk to them about picking out a Cross and putting it in their child's room, about getting a children's Bible and reading it to them. Super simple stuff," she said. "You're trying to take people where they're at."

When parents choose godparents, they often do not look to people who know more about the faith than they do, and who might fill in the gaps in their child's religious education. Instead, Ms Crino said, "They pick nice people who sometimes have less of a clue than the parents do." Sometimes, parents want to honour (or appease) so many people that they choose six, seven or eight godparents, even though Canon Law allows for no more than two. "Only two go on the register, but we put them all on the certificate," Ms Crino said. "It's not worth it to fight it."

Ms Crino said that her Religious Education class now includes very few Hispanics, a group that had previously attended in larger numbers. Today, her class is about half Filipinos, Poles and Indians. When Catholics come to the United States, they transmit their faith for about a generation and a half, she said. "If they don't [know their faith], their mother certainly does, and she makes sure things happen," said Ms Crino.

But Maria Hayes, who immigrated from Warsaw two years ago, said that at least in Poland, strong religious identity does not always translate into strong personal faith. She estimated that 90 per cent of Poles consider themselves Catholic, and religion is routinely taught in the schools. But this ubiquitous Catholicism, she said, is mainly a cultural identity, and lacks a spiritual component.

"Many Americans would be surprised at how liberal Poles are," Ms Hayes said. "The majority probably aren't practising [Catholics]. You still get the Sacraments, though. I never went to church as a child, but I went to first Communion and got a party." Her own godparents were friends of her non-believing parents, and she has no relationship with them.

 Children of the Light

When Ms Hayes chose godparents for her own children, her faith had already deepened and matured; but Amy Ekblad, a home-schooling mother of 13 children, did not come back to the faith until around the time of her fifth child's birth. "I was a nominal Catholic, at best, until about 15 years ago. I just picked people I liked [for godparents]."

After her reversion, Ms Ekblad said, she realised godparents should be more than "just buddies." But she did not know any practising Catholics other than her parents; so she chose them as godparents for her fifth child.

Some of her children, who range in age from 1 to 26, are now old enough to be godparents for their own siblings. Ms Ekblad does not know if the relationships between these pairs would be as strong as they are without that spiritual tie, but she is certain it is good for the older kids to have the responsibility of praying for their siblings, and being active in forming their faith.

 Godparents are often chosen before babies are born.

When Joan Nelson's life-long friend Cathy asked her to be the godmother for her unborn daughter, she readily agreed. Then they discovered that the child had a severe heart defect and encephalitis. The doctors said that if she survived birth, she would be blind, unable to walk or talk, and would only suffer. They pressurised the parents to abort, but as staunch Catholics, Cathy and her husband resisted.

"While Cathy was still pregnant, my role was to pray for them," said Ms Nelson. "They didn't need anything material at that point. There was nothing that could be done. My job was to pray with them and to pray for them, and to be present as much as they needed me." The baby, named Betsy, was born almost full term. She had heart surgery and lived to be nine years old, before her shunt finally failed.

"She walked, she talked, she was the school Spelling Bee champ, she played soccer, she was in plays. She had a beautiful life," said Ms Nelson. When Betsy died, over 1,000 people attended her funeral, where the priest reminded the congregation of the candle that Ms Nelson and her husband had held on Betsy's behalf at her baptism nine years before. He said, "She was a child of the light. She brought a lot of light into the world for a long time."

Afterward, more than one person told Ms Nelson that they had been away from the church, but that the funeral sermon made them rethink things, and they wanted to start going to Mass again.

"We think of water when we think about Baptism, but what about the light, the way that light gets spread, and who's responsible for maintaining and sharing that light?" asked Ms Nelson.

As with all things infused with grace, the godparenting relationship can work in more than one way, drawing both child and godparent closer to Christ. It enlarges the family by adding names to the roles, but it also strengthens the family ties within the Communion of Saints—even before birth, even after death.      

      (Source: America) 

Simcha Fisher is a speaker, freelance writer and author of The Sinner's Guide to Natural Family Planning. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and 10 kids