A JESUIT'S BLOG
Tuesday, 6 October 2026
Wednesday, October 7, 2026 - Our Lady of the Rosary
To read the texts click on the texts: Acts 1:12-14; Lk 1:26-38
The
Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary was formerly known as the Feast of Our Lady of
Victory. Legend has it that Our Lady appeared to St. Dominic in 1208, and gave
him the Rosary to be used as a tool against all kinds of challenges.
Our
Lady of the Rosary, also known as Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary, is a title
of the Blessed Virgin Mary in relation to the Rosary. The Feast of Our Lady of
the Rosary is October 7. It was formerly known as the Feast of Our Lady of Victory.
The development of the Rosary as a form owes much to the followers of St.
Dominic. On October 13, 1917, Our Lady of Fatima told the children, “I am the
Lady of the Rosary”.
The
text chosen for the feast relates a scene immediately after the announcement of
the birth of John the Baptist and contains the announcement of the birth of
Jesus. There are many similarities in the annunciations to Mary and to
Zechariah. The angel Gabriel is the one who makes both announcements. Both
Zechariah and Mary are called by name and exhorted not to be afraid. Both ask a
question of the angel, and it is the angel who tells them what name each child
is to be given. It is the angel who
predicts what each child will turn out to be. However, even as there are
similarities, there are differences in the narratives. While the announcement
to Zechariah comes in the Temple and as a result of his fervent prayer, the
announcement to Mary comes (apparently) when she is in her home and it is
unanticipated. While Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth are advanced in age, Mary
has not yet stayed with her husband, and so is a virgin. The birth of John to
parents who are past the age of child bearing is a miracle, but even greater is
the miracle of the birth of Jesus, who would be born through the Holy Spirit,
and to a virgin. Even as John the Baptist goes with the spirit and power of
Elijah, Jesus will be called “Son of God”. Luke clearly wants to show John as
great, but only the forerunner of the Messiah, Jesus, who is greater.
Here,
too, like in the case of the announcement of the birth of John the Baptist, God
intervenes in human history. Mary though
betrothed or engaged to Joseph, who was of David’s family, had not yet lived
with him. This she would do only after marriage, which would be one year after
the betrothal. The angel greets Mary as the recipient of God’s grace. She has
opened herself to the promptings of God’s Spirit. While Zechariah was gripped
with fear at the very appearance of the angel, in the case of Mary, it is the
angel’s greeting that perplexed her. The angel reassures Mary and makes the
announcement, not only of Jesus’ birth, but of who he will be and all that he
will accomplish.
In
response to this announcement Mary, like Zechariah, asks a question. While both
questions seem similar, it is clear that Zechariah’s question expressed doubt
and asked for a sign, as is evident in the angel’s words before Zechariah is
struck dumb. Mary’s question, on the other hand, is a question asked in faith.
Mary did not question the truth of the revelation like Zechariah did. She asked
only for enlightenment on how God would accomplish this wonderful deed. This
will be accomplished in Mary through the work of God’s spirit. This is why the
child will be called holy. Luke probably also intends to convey here that it is
not merit on Mary’s part that obtained for her what she received, but God’s
generous gift in the Spirit.
The
evidence that what the angel has announced will indeed take place is the
pregnancy of Elizabeth, for nothing is impossible for God. Mary responds, not
merely with a Yes, but by asking that the Lord work in her to accomplish all
that he wants. The annunciation would not have been complete without Mary’s
trusting, obedient response.
Today,
many assume that those whom God favours will enjoy the things we equate with a
good life: social standing, wealth, and good health. Yet Mary, God’s favoured
one, was blessed with having a child out of wedlock who would later be executed
as a criminal. Acceptability, prosperity, and comfort have never been the
essence of God’s blessing. The story is so familiar that we let its familiarity
mask its scandal. Mary had been chosen, “favoured,” to have an important part
in God’s plan to bring salvation to God’s people, but it is unthinkable that
God would have forced Mary to have the child against her will. Mary is an
important example, therefore, of one who is obedient to God even at great risk
to self.
When
we think of or reflect on Mary, the one word that comes to mind to describe her
whole life is the word, AMEN, a word which may be translated, “so be it”, “your
will be done”, “do whatever you want to do in my life”. This was, indeed,
Mary’s constant response to every situation in her life, especially when she
could not understand why things were happening the way they were. The text of
today is, then, a call and challenge to each one of us, that we, too, like
Mary, might be able to say YES to all that God wants to do in our lives. It is
a challenge to be open and receptive to the Spirit of God, so that we, too,
might be able to give birth to the Saviour in our hearts.
Monday, 5 October 2026
Tuesday, October 6, 2026 - Will you like Martha, presume to tell Jesus what he ought to do, or will you like Mary listen to what he would like you to do?
To read the texts click on the texts: Gal 1:13-24; Lk 10:38-42
This
text, which speaks of the encounter of Martha and Mary with Jesus, takes the
form of a pronouncement story (a story in which a saying of Jesus stands out
and is the focus of the story). While the Gospel of Luke explicitly mentions
women disciples of Jesus, here Mary is even sitting at the feet of Jesus and
listening to his teaching, something unthinkable at the time of Jesus. By
sitting at his feet, Mary is acting like a male, and in doing so neglects her
duty of helping to prepare the meal. This action of Mary also results in
bringing shame upon her house. Though justified Martha’s protest is put
negatively by her. It is clear that her focus is not the Lord, but herself. She
is concerned not with her service of the Lord, but the trouble that it is causing
her because she is left alone to serve. The response of Jesus to Martha is the
main point of the story and the pronouncement. The repetition of her name is a
mild rebuke. Her “cares” have prevented her from unhindered devotion and
attention to the Lord. Mary has chosen the one thing necessary and that is the
Lord. Martha presumes to tell Jesus what he should do; Mary lets Jesus tell her
what to do.
There
are times when we do things not because we are convinced that they have to be
done but because we want the approval of others or we want others to know how
hard we are working. These are selfish acts and do not bring grace. The act
that does bring grace is when we do what has to be done simply because it has
to be done and expect nothing in return.
MEETING FRANCIS AGAIN, THROUGH CARLO CARRETTO
Around fifty years ago, during a period of searching for my own path forward, my sister Svetlana gave me a copy of Carlo Carretto’s Letters from the Desert. At that time, my reading list fluctuated between George Orwell, Somerset Maugham, and St. Thérèse of Lisieux, alongside books on law and finance. Yet, it was Carretto’s words that gripped me; I returned to that book more than twenty times, finding myself renewed and deeply moved with every reading.
This initial encounter sparked a lifelong devotion. I collected
every book Carretto ever wrote and closely followed his community's footprint
in India. Last year, that fifty-year journey came full circle. While visiting
Assisi with Svetlana and her family, we transitioned from a meditative time
with St. Francis to visit Carretto’s own final resting place in Spello, nestled
in the Umbrian landscape. It was a deeply moving pilgrimage to the grave of a
man who lived as a devoted follower of Francis, passing into eternity on the
saint's feast day: October 4, 1988.
Why bring you to this intersection of my personal journey
and these two spiritual giants?
As we celebrate the 800th anniversary of the enduring wonder
named Francis of Assisi, I want to invite readers in India to engage with him
in a contemporary mould. To do that, no one serves as a better bridge than the
mystic Carlo Carretto. In his fictionalized autobiography I, Francis,
Carretto boldly adopts the first-person voice of the saint, instantly
dismantling the romanticized caricature of a man who merely talks to birds. He
presents Francis not as a medieval curiosity, but as a disruptive, living
prophet whose radical embrace of the Gospel serves as a direct indictment of
modern greed, urban consumerism, and spiritual complacency.
I offer you these reflections and excerpts from this
profound work, hoping it will prompt you to read the book itself and better
relish the true spirit of Saint Francis.
The Interior Desert: Radical Poverty and Naked Faith
In the book, Carretto’s Francis insists that poverty was
never a mere lifestyle choice or an exercise in philanthropy. As the saint
reflects, "Poverty did not consist in helping the poor, it consisted in
being poor." It was a necessary stripping away of the human ego to
encounter God in absolute vulnerability. Carretto writes through the voice of
Francis: "Poverty is not just a lack of things; it is a lack of self. It
is the vacuum into which God can pour His love."
External lack is merely the beginning, for "true
poverty went to the bottom of things, and touched the spirit." This
perspective resonates deeply with the spiritual heritage of India, beautifully
mirroring the ancient concept of aparigraha (non-possession) and the
ascetic path of the sannyasi. Francis notes that "putting a little
money aside, keeping a larder, buying a house" would have meant a
devastating "lack of trust in my Lord." True spiritual wealth begins
when physical ownership ends, shifting the soul from the "eros of easy
things" to the profound "agape of heroes of the spirit."
Crucially, this path is not a platform for social activism
or systemic restructuring. Francis clarifies that his "choice to be poor,
then, was not a social or political choice, but a mystical one." He did
not set out to organize a political pressure group or engage in standard class
struggle. He recognized that while revolutions fight for the working classes,
"nothing changed, because these people did not change hearts." For
him, the Gospel was a call to look beyond temporal structures: "It is not
enough to change laws. You have to change hearts."
For a reader navigating the hyper-materialistic, upwardly
mobile realities of modern mega-cities like Mumbai or Bengaluru, Carretto’s
Francis offers a sharp wake-up call to look past "a life of easy
pleasure." He models a journey that transcends all human constructs,
civilizations, and conventions, reminding us that true liberation is found not
in what we accumulate, but in what we have the courage to discard.
The Armor of Peace: Non-Violence and Unarmed Love
Just as Francis’s radical poverty was a mystical surrender
rather than a political statement, his response to a violent world bypassed the
conventional logic of warfare and strategic defense. For a modern reader
grappling with global strife or systemic conflict, Carretto’s Francis offers a
timeless pattern of deep, active non-violence. He did not wage war for justice,
even when the suffering of the poor seemed to demand it. Instead, he introduced
a method of combating injustice that relied on entirely different weapons:
humility, presence, and unarmed love.
By stepping out onto the open road without a script or a
shield, Francis showed that the only way to break the cycle of human violence
is to absorb it rather than reflect it back. In a world defined by division,
his life remains a radical blueprint for peace built from the inside out.
Rebuilding from Within: A Quiet Meditation on a Broken,
Beloved Church
For Carretto, this deep interior stripping this radical
detachment from worldly constructs was never meant to drive the believer away
from the community. It was designed to anchor them deeply within it, even when
that community is terribly flawed. The absolute vulnerability born in the
desert of poverty becomes the precise tool needed to face the institutional
Church.
“Repair it.” When the Lord spoke these words to Francis from
the crucifix at San Damiano, Francis first looked at the crumbling stone walls
around him. It takes time for human hearts to understand the vastness of God’s
designs. Francis soon realized the call wasn't just to rebuild a small, quiet
refuge in the woods, but to steady a great Church stretching across the earth
"the one founded by Jesus himself who at Saint Damian had spoken to me,
telling me straight out, 'Repair it.'"
For more than two thousand years, the gates of hell have
targeted the Church, yet they have not prevailed. Yet, anyone who deeply loves
the Church today knows the heavy grief of looking at its wounds, power
dynamics, and the heavy burden of "shameless wealth" and
"involvement with power politics." And yet, like Francis, we are
called to stay, to love, and to labor with an enduring, quiet hope.
Writing with the hindsight of eight centuries, Carretto’s
Francis does not ignore the historical corruption or wealth of the
ecclesiastical hierarchy. He addresses the reality of having "seen no
poverty in the halls of the Vatican." Yet, instead of advocating for a
schism or walking away in bitter anger, Francis models an agonizing, fierce
loyalty. He recognizes a profound debt, asking us directly: "Who would
have handed down to us, across twenty centuries, the teachings of our dear Lord
Jesus? Who would have encouraged us in the truth, reassured us in the path we
had undertaken?"
This is the great mystery we live with: the Church is
simultaneously holy and broken, divine and deeply human "at once
indefectible by divine promise, and capable of scandalizing... by its riches
and its might." When confronted with the flaws of our spiritual home, it
is incredibly easy to become bitter, sour, and judgmental, quick to point the
accusing finger at the festering sores of others.
But Francis heard a softer voice whisper in his spirit:
"Judge not... I have come not to judge but to save." He realized that
if he wanted to have any right to speak, he must have compassion. If we wish to
heal the Church today, we must begin where Francis began: not with criticism,
but with compassion. We reform the body of Christ by allowing Him to reform us,
becoming simple instruments of grace from the very inside of the home He built
for us.
It is here, in this tension, that we find the most poignant
prayer of the modern pilgrim, reflecting Carretto's own deep theological
struggles as a monk addressing the Church directly:
"How much I must criticize you, my church, and yet how
much I love you! You have caused me more suffering than anyone else, and yet I
owe you more than anyone else. I should like to see you destroyed, and yet I
need your presence. You have given me much scandal and yet you alone have made
me understand holiness. ... In a word, I cannot live outside of you, because
outside of you I would no longer have my Christ."
Dr.
Fr. Conrad Pesso s.j.
Director Xavier Institute of Communications
Chairman
Xavier Institute of Management and Research
Sunday, 4 October 2026
Monday, October 5, 2026 - Is there a person/group that you have a prejudice against or whom you have stereotyped? Will you overcome that prejudice today?
To read the texts click on the texts: Gal 1:6-12; Lk 10:25-37
Our
text for today contains the Parable of The Good Samaritan. This is a parable
that is found only in the Gospel of Luke, and the context in Luke is the
question that is asked by a lawyer regarding eternal life. In Matthew and Luke,
the lawyer is hostile (not so in Mark), because the question is asked to “test”
Jesus. While in Matthew (22,34-40) and Mark (12,28-31) the question is about
the greatest commandment, and Jesus answers the question quoting from
Deuteronomy and Leviticus, in Luke, Jesus asks the lawyer a counter question
and gets him (the lawyer) to answer. Deuteronomy 6,4-9 (Love of God) was part
of the “Shema” (the prayer to “Hear”), repeated twice each day, but it had not
been linked to Leviticus 19,18 (Love of neighbour) as it is here. Since it is
the lawyer who answers, Jesus responds with a commendation (“You have answered
right; do this, and you will live.”) Since the lawyer was forced to answer and
cede the upper hand, he does not give up, but asks a question over which there
was some controversy – “Who is my neighbour?” In his response to this question,
Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. This parable has often been
interpreted as one in which Jesus is telling us that those in need are our
neighbours, or that it has an anticlerical edge, in which Jesus is showing up
the priestly class by mentioning priest and Levite as not reaching out to the
one in need. If these were the meanings, then there would be no need to make
the third person that passed by that way, a Samaritan. The third person could
have been a lay Jew. The reason why the third person is a Samaritan is because
Jesus wanted the lawyer who was a Jew, to go beyond the narrow definition of
neighbour, to go beyond his prejudice, his bias, and his stereotyping. When
Israel was split into kingdoms after the death of Solomon in around 922 BCE,
the North (named Israel which had its capital at Samaria) and the South (Judah
which had its capital as Jerusalem), it became the target for its neighbours,
because its strength was divide. In 722 BCE, the Assyrians captured Israel and
its capital Samaria and took as their wives and concubines’ Israeli women. The
children by that union were known as Samaritans and till the time of Jesus were
regarded as inferior and outcasts by their former Jewish brothers (and
sisters). Jesus is thus asking the Jew (the lawyer) if he can get rid of his
negative way of looking at the Samaritan, and regard him also as neighbour. It
is interesting that at the end of the parable, Jesus overturns the lawyer’s question.
Jesus asks, “Who was neighbour to the one who fell among robbers?” whereas the
lawyers question was “Who is my neighbour?” The Samaritan is indeed, neighbour.
We
often look at people with tainted glasses or a prejudiced vision. We tend to
categorise them and place them in neat compartments based on their backgrounds.
This attitude leads to stereotyping people and not being able to see them as
they are. Albert Einstein said this about a prejudice, “It is easier to
disintegrate an atom than a prejudice”.
Saturday, 3 October 2026
Sunday, October 4, 2026 - We are tenants, not owners
To read the texts click on the texts: Isa 5:1-7; Phil 4:6-9; Mt. 21:33-43
A
parishioner once narrated to me his experience. Because he was unmarried and
was working abroad and his brother was married and had five children, he had
rented his two-bedroom apartment to his brother on the condition that his
brother would leave the apartment when he was asked to do so. As his brother
agreed to this condition, he allowed him to stay in the apartment free of cost,
because he did not want to burden his brother by charging him rent. A time came
when he found the girl he wanted to marry and since he would need his
apartment, gently reminded his brother of their agreement and gave him a year’s
time to find alternate accommodation. He even offered to help his brother
financially. However, his brother refused to move, claiming that since he had
stayed in that apartment for more than five years it belonged to him. The case
is now in court.
The
history of the human race is a history that alternates between failure and
ingratitude on the part of human beings and fidelity and reaching out to them
on the part of God. The first reading of today from Isaiah reminds us once
again of the manner in which God continues to reach out in love. ‘The vineyard’
has often been used in the scriptures as symbol for the nation of Israel but
could also be a symbol for the world. This vineyard God planted and nurtured
hoping that it would produce the fruits that it should, instead produced wild
grapes. When God ought to have found righteousness, he encountered bloodshed,
and when he ought to have found justice, he heard the cries of the poor to whom
injustice had been done. This is the work of a selfish few and hence the
consequences of their selfish actions would be their own destruction.
These
few who are selfish and self-centered are also mentioned in the Gospel reading
in what is referred to as the parable of the rented vineyard, the murderous
tenants and also the wicked husbandmen or vinedressers.
The
parable is directed to the chief priests and elders of the people. The
introduction echoes Isaiah 5:2 and uses the same words as there. However, here
the vineyard is let out to tenant farmers by the landlord who goes away on a
journey. This renting out of the vineyard serves to bring out on the one hand
the idea that it is given in trust and not ownership, it is given on rent and
not for personal possession and on the other hand to indict those to whom it
had been rented out at the end of the parable. The repeated sending of the
servants by the owner to collect the produce of the vineyard brings out the
patience and perseverance of the owner of the vineyard. Despite his servants
being treated shamefully and even killed, the owner does not give up, trying to
get the tenants to come to their senses and realize their position with regard
to the vineyard and him. The fact that he is serious about reaching out to the
tenants is made abundantly clear in the sending of his son. However, greed on
the part of the tenants led to their killing even the son.
In
Isaiah, the consequences of unfaithfulness are the total destruction of the
vineyard. In Matthew the tenants are destroyed and the vineyard is taken away
to be given to others who will understand their role and do what they are
called to do.
It
is possible to understand the parable as addressed to the Jewish leaders of the
time of Matthew and be content with that interpretation, but it is also
possible to widen the vineyard to include the whole world and the tenants to
mean each of us. When seen in this manner the world becomes the responsibility
of each one of us and we realize that all that we have is given to us in trust.
We are not owners of all that we think we possess, but have it in order to use
it for the benefit of others and ourselves. Thus, selfishness and self-centeredness
and the desire to accumulate more and more are the totally opposite attitudes
of what which is expected of us as tenants.
This
also means that since the world is given to us in trust, each one of us is
responsible for looking after it. Hence environmental pollution of any kind,
waste, destruction of nature, the so-called ‘development at any cost’ are all
sins that we as tenants can be guilty of. The growing disparity between the
rich and the poor, the destruction of forests, rivers and seas, global warming
and the like, show that we, as tenants, have not given to the owner of the
vineyard the fruits that we were expected to give. Our desire to own the
vineyard as our inheritance has led to this state.
The
Lord continues to send messages and messengers to us in the hope that we will
come to our senses and behave as we ought to. One such message is found in the
second reading of today in which Paul reminds the Philippians and is that we
can only find peace and harmony when we acknowledge our dependence on God, and
consequently our role as tenants and caretakers of his vineyard, our world. If
we build up – and not destroy, if we reach out in love and concern for others –
not live for our selves, if we are generous – not miserly, then we will have
heeded the voice of the owner of the vineyard and will be able to give him his
due when it is demanded of us.