http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/30/us/30priest.html 
India, an Exporter of Priests, May Keep Them
 Atleast 800 Indian priests are working in the United States alone. India, 
Vietnamand the Philippines are among the leading exporters of priests, 
according todata compiled by researchers at Catholic University of America in 
Washington.Butthese days the Indian prelates have reason to reconsider their 
generosity. WithIndia modernizing at breakneck speed, more young men are 
choosing financialgain over spiritual sacrifice.“Thereis a great danger just 
now because the spirit of materialism is on theincrease,” said Bishop Mar James 
Pazhayattil, the founding bishop of theDiocese of Irinjalakuda, as he sat 
barefoot at his desk, surrounded by mementosof a lifetime of church service. 
“Faith and the life of sacrifice are becomingless.”Some ofthe forces 
contributing to a lack of priests in Europe and the United Stateshave begun to 
take shape here.Parentsare having fewer children, with even observant Catholics 
freely admitting theyuse birth control. The Indian economy, which has boomed 
for years, offers morecareer options.Many priests once came from 
largeagricultural families. But now land is scarce, the soil tapped out. 
Familiesare moving to cities, far from the tight-knit parishes that for 
generationskept Indian Catholics connected to their faith. And educated young 
Catholicsare increasingly attracted to fields like engineering and 
technology.In past generations, having a sonbecome a priest increased the 
family’s stature, said the Rev. Jose Kuriedath, asociologist in Aluva who has 
written a book about vocations in India. Mr.Kuriedath recounted an adage in 
Malayalam, the local language: “It is equal indignity to have either an 
elephant or a priest in the family.”But this is changing.Answering a CallAt St. 
Paul’s Minor Seminary in theDiocese of Irinjalakuda, sleepy teenage boys 
clamber from their dormitory everymorning down to chapel, past a statue of Mary 
and portraits of Pope BenedictXVI and Gandhi.Among them is Chacko 
Kuttuparambil, astocky 17-year-old who wears high-top basketball shoes and 
slim, stylish glasses.His prosperous family was not particularly supportive of 
his joining thepriesthood, he said.His father, an apartment buildingmanager, 
wanted him to be a computer engineer. His brother, a businessexecutive, also 
tried to dissuade him. Chacko is the younger of two sons, andtraditionally it 
is the responsibility of the youngest son to care for theparents in their old 
age.But Chacko felt called to thepriesthood because, he said, as a child he was 
miraculously cured of a viralinfection that paralyzed the right side of his 
body for two years.“He gave me life,” Chacko said, “so Iam to give my life to 
Him.”On a hot day before the rainy seasonarrived, Chacko and his fellow 
students boarded a bus for a field trip intendedto expose them to ministry 
work. Along the way, the teenagers clapped andbelted out Christian hymns and 
pop tunes. They craned to look out at billboardsof motorcycles, mobile phones 
and models with bare midriffs advertising sarishops.The students arrived at a 
home formentally ill adults run by an order of nuns in pink saris. Some 
studentsinitially recoiled at the patients’ odd tics. But as they had been 
taught, theyseparated into small groups to talk with the patients, many of whom 
brightenedunder the boys’ attention. Most of the students were selected for the 
seminaryafter attending a “life guidance camp” that each year draws hundreds of 
localteenagers for a three-day session at St. Paul’s.Those who seem promising 
are invitedback for a vocation retreat, and the best of those are invited to 
join theseminary.In a first-year class, the studentsstudied a pamphlet called 
“Growing up Gracefully.” The school’s rector, theRev. Sebastian Panjikaran, 
demonstrated proper priestly etiquette. FatherPanjikaran acted out the wrong 
way for a priest to walk through town, chargingdown the aisle between the 
students’ desks, his eyes fixed on the ground.PhotoFOCUSED ON FAITH In Kerala, 
a state in the southwest part of thecountry where 20 percent of the population 
is Roman Catholic, families like theAlengadans pray together at home and Mass 
attendance is high.CreditJamesEstrin/The New York Times“A priest should not 
walk so fast,” hesaid, turning to face the students. “He should walk 
how?”“Slowly,” the students said.“He should walk slowly,” FatherPanjikaran 
repeated, strolling casually up the aisle and making eye contactwith the 
students. “And he should ... ?”“Help,” the students say in unison.If you walk 
slowly, Father Panjikaranexplained, the people will see you are friendly and 
accessible and will ask youfor help. He concluded, “You can have that sense of 
usefulness if you do goodfor others.”Changing LandscapeCatholics represent a 
tiny proportionof the population in India — about 2 percent. But they have 
played an outsizerole in weaving the country’s social safety net, establishing 
schools,hospitals, old-age homes and other organizations that serve many 
non-Catholics.The church here is ancient, with threeseparate rites, each with 
its own liturgies and bishops. Here in Kerala, astate in southwest India, 
Catholics of the Syro-Malabar rite trace their rootsto the Apostle Thomas, who 
according to lore arrived by boat in A.D. 52, made disciplesamong the ruling 
Brahmin class and planted seven churches.About 20 percent of Kerala’s 
populationis Catholic, and being faithful is more than a once-a-week event. 
Families praytogether at home in the evenings, kneeling at shrines in their 
sitting rooms.Mass attendance in many dioceses is over 80 percent. And the 
entire communityturns out for local festivals on saints days.After evening Mass 
one Sunday at SacredHeart Keezhmad, the parish just up the hill from Don Bosco 
College, the youngaltar boys and some friends were helping the priest close the 
sacristy. Ofeight young men, including the president of the local Catholic 
youthorganization, only one said he was interested in becoming a priest. Six 
saidthey aspired to be engineers, and one said he wanted to be a doctor.Like 
many seminaries run by religiousorders, Don Bosco College traditionally did not 
accept students who were theonly child in their families. But that policy has 
changed, said the Rev.Sebastian Kalambaden, the seminary’s administrator. The 
seminary also has twostudents who were brought up Hindu and converted to 
Catholicism. Untilrecently, most seminaries avoided taking converts.Duty to 
Serve AbroadSome graduates and former teachers ofDon Bosco College are now 
serving overseas. The students are aware that if theydo well they might be 
tapped. And many see it as their responsibility to go.“People came from foreign 
countries asmissionaries, and because of them we have Christianity, and in many 
ways we arebenefiting,” said Augustine Thekkepookombil, a seminarian. “ So I 
feel it is myduty to give spiritual help. That would be the best way of showing 
gratitude.”PhotoThe Rev. Jolly Vadakken, left, withseminarians in Irinjalakuda, 
had offers to work in Italy and Atlanta but wantedto stay in India.CreditJames 
Estrin/The New York TimesThe Diocese of Irinjalakuda has 10priests serving in 
the United States, as well as 3 in Germany, 2 in Canada andone in England. Four 
are studying in Rome.In the United States, four of theIndian priests are in 
Birmingham, Ala., where the former bishop arranged aboutseven years ago to pay 
the Diocese of Irinjalakuda $5,000 a year for eachborrowed priest, an official 
in the Indian diocese said. Many bishops have sucharrangements, giving them a 
motive other than generosity to loan out theirpriests.Bishop Pazhayattil said 
he chose whichpriests to send abroad very carefully. Some who volunteer, he 
said, couldeasily go astray so far from home.And some do not want to go. The 
Rev.Jolly Vadakken had studied in Rome and worked short-term in parishes 
inGermany, Minneapolis and Birmingham. Tall and prepossessing, fluent in 
fivelanguages, Father Vadakken had offers to work as a parish pastor in Italy 
andAtlanta. But he preferred to stay home.In Irinjalakuda, he runs a 
Catholicresource center across the street from the diocese’s towering pink 
cathedral.He buzzes around the diocese on a motorcycle, often in his cassock, 
hiscellphone ringing incessantly. He operates a suicide hot line (Kerala has 
oneof the highest suicide rates in India), counsels couples, teaches courses 
inparenting and runs a program that mediates local conflicts.He said he feels 
more vital here thanhe did in the United States or Europe, where he was needed 
only for thesacraments.“In the other world, we are officialpriests,” he said. 
“We are satisfied just doing the Mass and sacraments,everything on time, 
everything perfect.“In India, the people come close tous,” he continued. “The 
work satisfaction is different. Our ministry is so muchwanted here.”At the same 
time, the Catholic churchin Irinjalakuda is expanding. When Bishop Pazhayattil 
was appointed in 1978,the diocese had 78 parishes; it now has 129. He said it 
was unlikely he wouldbe so eager to send his priests to Europe or the United 
States in the future.The rectors of both large seminaries inAluva, with over 
400 students each, each said in separate interviews that theCatholic church in 
the United States and Europe would eventually need to stoprelying on India to 
supply priests.“Itis not a solution,” said Msgr. Bosco Puthur, the rector of 
St. JosephPontifical Seminary in Mangalapuzha. “It is only a stopgap that does 
not solvethe problem

   

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