Designs of the Heart

According to Charles Baudelaire, the French poet, ‘there exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet.’ Priesthood is a stage in life which is specially crafted and designed that defines matured elegance, refined tradition and subtle glamour.

Belonging to the tribe of Levi, descendants of Aaron, a priest is specially consecrated to the service of divinity. In every parish, priests serve for a few years and in that limited span they inspire and change the life of many who seek their help either directly or indirectly. Many years ago I was asked by a priest as to how they can interfere in the private matters of the families and couples. Well, my plea to all the priests is that we, the laypersons, are starved of reliable care and concern. All that we seek from our priests is a shoulder to cry on, your little finger to pull us out of the mire that destroys the divinity within us and of course we need you to push us on to the godly paths when we fear to tread upon it.

 A priest has his talents, his vast cultivated mind, his vivid imagination, his independence of soul and his high principles of honour. All this and more make him a man who is called Father by everyone.

On the feast of the Holy Family our parish priest’s sermon began with the duties of children making the older set quite comfortable to find their children being admonished and wanted their wards to listen to it and act responsibly. Slowly, the sermon graduated to the next level and the parents and elders found themselves being nailed by their set of do’s and don’ts. It wasn’t anything new, yet a need was felt by all present there to be constantly reminded of making our Christian living more credible.

The Rector of the seminary here expressed his concern about the dropout rates among the seminarians especially because the initial numbers of postulants too are dwindling with every passing year. I always thought that only the most fortunate ones are called to be priests.

When I was sitting in church one beautiful morning, after having relished an intensely satisfying experience of attending Mass, an elderly lady beside me gave an equally gratifying look and said, ‘The priest who celebrated Mass is my son’. For more than a moment I was smiling and kept saying to myself ‘wow, how wonderful’ and then, human that I was, I thought ‘what a showy and pompous mother’. Well …. that was then, but now I understand the gravity of that moment. She was bestowed upon by the most graceful of all blessings and so she had every right to feel mighty about her fortune.

It is indeed a gorgeous opportunity to be a priest, the one who has come to embody the virtues of holiness, making many more mothers pompous and showy in the true spirit.