The Year of Priests (2)

A priest who loved poverty

( This year, being the year of priests, i plan to pen a few articles on priests or priesthood and here i present my second article. I am extremely happy to write something about someone who has played a significant role in my life. For me he is still alive and continue to inspire me...
My first encounter with Fr John De Silver sj (commonly known as Fr JB) was not so pleasant, which i could term as something memorable. It was during dinner I came into contact with him from a close distance for the first time. As par the rule of Novitiate, one of us was reading a passage from a book, while we were eating and listening attentively. Fr J B was giving correction whenever the reader was making any mistake. He would keep on saying, ‘repeat brother’. He would not leave the reader until he pronounced the word correctly. At some point he would say very harshly with excitement, keeping his both eyes wide open. I felt pity for my companion and was frightened because I would have to undergone the same fate in the days to come. From then I would avoid meeting him and if I happened to meet him, I would just greet him in a most polite form.

It was on a fine morning I found my name on the notice board for table reading. The beadle approached and handed over a book to me and asked me to go for reading practice. I had no other choice than to surrender myself at the doorstep of Fr J B. As I knocked at the door, he came out and warmly welcomed me to his room. He made me sat on a chair. I looked around his room. There were piles of old books, magazines, papers, plastic bags, bottles and so on. I did not find any modern gadget in his room. He began with a very friendly conversation related to my life. Then before reading he said, “Brother by making mistakes we learn.” Then he asked me to read. During the practise he was very kind to me. He asked me to repeat the particular words which I pronounced wrongly.

In the evening when I read I did make mistake and he asked me to pronounce correctly. But I did not feel bad at all. My certain prejudices about him vanished and I began to respect him.

It did not take much rain and winter for me to become friendly with him. I would go to him often for any help. He was always very welcoming. One day I asked him why he kept so many old things in his room. He said that someday these things would be handy. And it so happened whenever we were in need of anything we would go to his room

During chill winter when we novices were loaded with warm cloths we would find him hardly with any cloths. One day, one of us asked him, why he wore very little cloths. With his smile he said that he was comfortable with what he had. Then he continued that there were many poor people, who had hardly anything to wear. For them having a warm cloth was luxury. He would always wear very old and almost torn cloth. Perhaps that was the way he showed solidarity with the poor.

During the last stage when his health was bewailing he was stopped from taking any formal classes or practices. But often we would go to his room for any clarification. He would try his level best to help us. One day I approached him for a word meaning. He tried to recall but he could not get immediately. He said, “I am sorry I don’t get the meaning. I am losing my memory.” He literally asked sorry. I left him and went for my work. After sometimes when he got back the word meaning he searched for me in all the possible places. Finally he traced me in the Library and told me the particular word.

He has left us years ago...but his memories still linger in my heart. As I continue to walk in my life journey, I draw inspiration from him...