People's Edit
Be the Stainless White Cassock
Opinion | People's Edit | Joseph M Thohrii | 16-Sep-2020
It was one of those hot and humid middle of June, 2014 that I reached at the entrance gate of St. Mary’s Church, Rippon street, Kolkata where I spend one year of my weekends ministry during my Theology days at Morning Star Regional Seminary, Barrackpore. Every Saturday evening as we reach the parish, at the entrance of the gate I use to see some old grannies sitting at the entrance selling copies of “The Herald” which sometimes I myself use to fetch one. I am sure selling them won’t fetch them much money but probably as mention in the Bible to get some few widows’ mite out of the sell. Every Saturday evening I use to come across one old granny whom we only exchange cordial wishes as she use to wish me “Good evening brother” with a broad smile, and to which I also reply back “Good evening Aunty” with a smile. I see her every time selling “The Herald” paper at the entrance of the gate and nothing else like religious articles. This was our usual exchange of pleasantries for nearly a year without any further conversation of ‘How are you doing?’ and not even asking her name or she neither asking my name.
Life went on and my one year ministry in the parish was set to be over on the Easter Sunday of April 2015. The parish priest has announced in the Church and thanked me and my colleague for the one year of our service and ministry in the parish. After lunch, as we were leaving the parish with lots of happy memories of our stay and at the same time with a grateful heart to God for the many people whom we met as strangers but now are parting as friends. As I came out of the gate, I happen to meet this old granny who was sitting with a broad smile and asked me’ “I heard brother you are completing your ministry her in the parish and hereafter not coming anymore”. To which I replied “Yes” and further requested her to continue to pray for me. She replied “surely, yes brother and pray for me too”. She slipped her hand into her small shabby bag and took out an old envelop and she told me “Here are some few money from my savings, I don’t know how much but buy white clothes and stitch a cassock for yourself”. I hesitated but she said to me something which I will never forget for the rest of my life, “Stitch a cassock, wear it and may your life as priest also be like the white cloth where there should be no stain of sin but pure as the white cloth”. This word of her dumbfounded me. Probably she use to see us going for distribution of communion for the sick Saturday evenings. What more! I only thanked her and left. When I reach back the seminary, I opened the envelope and inside it were many crumbled ten rupees, five rupees and some few coins. All together it was Rs.568/-. Much more than the amount it was her intention and the generosity she shared from the little hard earned money she had. After two months, I bought white clothes and stitch a cassock to mark her words and her intention.
Today its five years passed, the cassock is small as I have grown in size however I still keep as a replica of her words and cherish the cassock. I hang it in my room and each day I looked at the cassock and draw inspiration for holiness in my priesthood. Before I retire to sleep every night I look at the cassock and introspect to myself asking ‘Was my life today as white as that cassock without stain of sin?’ ‘Was my thought and intentions as pure as the white cassock without diluting with dirt of sin?’ And every morning as I rise, I look at the white cassock and pray to God to make my life pure and my words and deeds angelic. This give me daily inspiration in my priestly life and also an occasion to remember and pray for that old granny whose parting words have become a pearl for me each day to become a better human person. Human as we are, we priest fail, fall and commit blunders too. However it is by the prayers, support and encouragement of the faithful that we rise in hope to carry on the mission entrusted to us with zeal and enthusiasm. Pray for priest, they are human too!
(The Author is a Priest in the Archdiocese of Imphal and can be reached on mtjo89@gmail.com. Views expressed are personal)
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