George Menezes

The other day, a woman who lives down the road and who appreciates my civic activism but is very critical when I write articles that are not very appreciative of the church, fundamentally speaking, said she had a question for me. The question was “Do I really loved Jesus?” I told I would write a piece confirming that I do, and listing the reasons for it.

But I have another question for her and for me. Is it easier to write an article about “Why I love Jesus” than to actually give witness to my love for Jesus in my daily life? Obviously it is much easier to write an article. I will try to be as truthful as I can.

Many years ago I had, as President of the Society for the Protection of Fundamental Rights, together with other Christian denominational groups, successfully organized a massive Morcha against the now forgotten Tyagi Bill, attempting to ban conversions to Christianity.

At that time a member of my community who was well-known in advertising circles made a statement to the press saying “It is not difficult for George to come to the defense of his faith because he was born into a Christian family”

I had responded rather angrily that I do not owe my Christianity to my family but to the fact that every morning, when I get up, I choose and decide to be a Christian.

The most important reason that I love Jesus is that he is part of my everyday life. He is sitting right here helping me with the keys of my computer. He was around an hour ago understanding and forgiving me for shouting at my wife over a trivial matter.

I discover him in the most unlikely places. In the house of Joseph who lives in the fishermen’s colony in Chimbai. Many months ago Joseph was returning home from work when he saw an old man sleeping not far from the gates of St Andrew’s Church. He bent down to listen to his groaning and discovered open wounds on his hands and feet, filled with maggots.

Joseph was a strong man. He picked up the old man, put him over his shoulder and took him home to his one room tenement where he lived in quiet bachelor-hood.

For three months Joseph looked after the old man, feeding him, washing him, and having him treated by a doctor till the man was better and able look after himself.

When he was leaving he hugged Joseph, and with tears in his eyes he said to him “Who is this Jesus who you talk about all the time? “ Joseph paused and asked “would you like to follow him? “ And the old man replied “if he is someone like you I would certainly like to follow him”

Jesus was there in the form of Joseph right around the corner of my building.

I love him because every day, in hundreds of ways, he empowers ordinary people to be loving, caring and compassionate like he was.

He has been around right from the days of my childhood and of my growing up. I met him in the piety and unwavering faith of my mother, who on our way from Dharwad to Goa by train, every year for a summer holidays, used to get off at a station call Londa to partake in the Eucharist and to catch another connecting train 12 hours later.

I met him in my agnostic father who taught me the meaning of integrity. I was then 16 years old and my younger brother Francis had appeared for his Matriculation examination. My father had been appointed in charge of the examinations of Bombay University. I don’t remember what he was called but all the centres came under him.

One morning a very seedy looking and nervous man came to see my father. My father and I were listening to some classical music which my father dearly loved.

The nervous man entered our sitting room and said to my father. “I managed to get your son’s examination number and found out that he has failed in his Mathematics paper. He handed a crumbled piece of paper to my father and he said “This is the name and address of the teacher who corrected his paper”. A word from you and your son will get the required marks.”

My father got up from the sofa. He was a tall man but at that moment he looked taller than he actually was, and his face had turned red with rage. He picked up the visitor by his collar and threw him out of the house. “If my son deserves to fail we will fail” he said

And fail he did. But he later went on to become the Director of the Tata Management Training Centre and one of India’s few and famous “dream therapists”.

Jesus showed me through the behaviour of my father the real meaning of “integrity”. He was telling me that financial integrity, an absence of corruption, is a very easy thing to practice.

But the word “integrity” has its root in the mathematical word “integer” which is a number that is indivisible. Like Jesus my father was indivisible. He did not believe in one thing and practice another. He had the courage of his convictions he stood for the truth no matter what the consequences were.

My agnostic father went back to the Church after a 40 year absence. A year or two later he was knighted by Pope Paul II. My father thought it was a clerical error. That the knighthood was meant for my mother. But then Jesus was present when the Pope made the decision and must have told him that rituals were not as important to him as a courageous witness of Jesus’ own life.
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I bump into Jesus several times every day of my life. I have seen his presence in the dedicated energy that Isabel our frail and ageing cook woman brings to her work, on her twice a week presence in our kitchen.

I witness Jesus constantly in the presence of my driver Hermon, a dalit Christian. who has never been absent and never been late in the ten years he has come to work for us.

High levels of energy and passionate understanding of the value of time are some of the hall marks of Jesus’ very short ministry.

I love Jesus for the understanding of the preciousness of time. That being late and keeping people waiting is not just a technical thing in time management but a spiritual requirement to respect people to an extent that you never keep them waiting, no matter what social level they may belong.

He tells me constantly that he has gifted me with a Mercedes-Benz engine and that I have no business to be functioning at scooter level horsepower.

He tells me that no matter what my age I have to be fully alive and fully human every morning of my life.

It is not easy to love Jesus. He is very demanding. He requires me to be constantly at the service of the least of my brothers and sisters. Never mind the amount of harm they have done to me.

He demands that I am not just compassionate but also forgiving.

He urges me to have total faith in his Father fortified by the daily Eucharist where he shares his body and blood with me.

Years of practice has made it easy for me to love people. But that is not enough for Jesus. He wants me to love unconditionally. And he tells me a little parable as he did with his apostles.

It is the parable of a pig and a hen that were walking down the road when they saw a huge hoarding at the entrance of a restaurant. It said “We serve farm fresh eggs and bacon for breakfast”

The hen turned round to the pig and said “Do you see that? Farm fresh eggs for breakfast. That is my contribution to society”. The pig laughed and said “You have not read the hoarding completely. It also says bacon for breakfast. Yours, my dear hen, is a contribution to society, mine is a total commitment. I have to die for bacon to be served for breakfast”

Do I understand the difference between contribution to my faith and commitment to my faith? Do I love Jesus so unconditionally that I am willing to die for him?

I am afraid to answer the question right now. If, and when, such a time comes, I pray to my Father that I will not be found wanting.