It does not address the tragic loss of life in places of worship on that day. This is purely to profess the faith I have placed at this holy place of worship, a great sanctuary for people of all faiths, a place of interfaith in Sri Lanka and around the world.  For some folks, it is only in times of distress or at other testing times in their lives, but for the most faithful, it is a regular ritual of prayers, whether in sunshine, rain, or minus 25 degrees Celsius.

People may ask what prompted me to write this reflection after almost seven years; I never thought of it. Maybe it was an urge from my inner self, for an unknown reason, to proclaim what this place meant to many, globally and in Sri Lanka.

I was born a Hindu. My late father was a 3-bar captain, had three stripes of holy ash, Vee-poothy on his forehead, and performed a ritual called “Theedshai.” Fridays were always a mandatory vegetarian day for all of us. He was a hereditary trustee of our Hindu temple in Suthumalai, Manipay, and I am still one of the trustees. I was educated in a Methodist college, Jaffna Central, from KG onwards. At our school, those days before the start of our classes, all students had to be at the chapel for morning prayers and hymns, regardless of religion, up to grade five.

I left Central in 1968 and joined Aquinas University College, Borella, Colombo, in 1969 to prepare for a second try at Medical College entrance examinations. A batchmate one day took me to this place of worship at Kochchikade, called St. Anthony’s Church. I marvelled at the sight of people of all faiths, pouring out their worries, seeking St. Anthony’s intercession for ailments, difficulties and many other issues. I have heard stories from many people of their faith at this shrine, St. Anthony’s.

Devotion to St. Anthony’s Church

After some time, I started to visit this church regularly, especially on a Tuesday, as Tuesday is St. Anthony’s day. This practice continues to this day; whatever the weather, I never miss praying at a St. Anthony’s church, in whatever part of the world I am, on a Tuesday.

History shows that this church was founded by a Franciscan priest from Goa, Anthony Kochchiyar.  It was built as a mud chapel at this location, rebuilt in 1828, consecrated in 1834, and enlarged in 1938. The church houses a revered statue of St. Anthony of Padua and is said to hold a small piece of St. Anthony’s tongue in a special reliquary.

This shrine is a well-known landmark in Sri Lanka and known as the “Church of Miracles” and of the poor. It serves as a shrine of interfaith mellifluousness for all: Catholics, Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims.

Easter 2019

Let me share my experience on Easter Sunday in 2019. I arrived in Sri Lanka in January 2019 from Toronto to stay for five months, since I had some property matters to attend to.  On the evening of the 20^th, I walked into a bakery at Wattala, where I had a rental apartment, and requested the owner to keep 100 buns for Sunday morning, paid a deposit of 500 rupees, since I wanted to take them to the poor outside the church on Easter Sunday.

That morning, I went to the bakery to collect the buns and proceed to the church to be there at 8.15 a.m. But the baker said, “Sir, I entirely forgot to keep the bread buns for you.”  I was upset and disappointed that I could not be at the church to give these buns and pray on that day but resolved to go on Tuesday, the 23^rd, with the buns. I went to my property at Ja-ela.

While cleaning up my land around 9.45 a.m., one of my good friends, T.T. Tennakoon called and wanted to know where I was. When I told him, he was relieved, “Brother, I thought you would be at St. Anthony’s church.” He urged me to go back to my apartment at Wattala immediately and call him. I booked an Uber and it was while going home, that the driver described what happened at the churches and other places. I was shocked and stunned. I called my wife in Toronto and informed her of the terrible news; she was upset and thanked God that I was prevented from harm but mourned for those less fortunate.

World leaders, church, society, and all religious leaders expressed grief and sadness at the carnage on the holiest day in the church. I cried several times, thanking God that my life was spared, but was devastated by what happened to the poor faithful.

My wife called me the next day, Monday the 22^nd, and requested that I should not visit St. Anthony’s Church on Tuesday, June 23^rd. I assured her I would not. But on the 23^rd morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and proceeded to Kochchikade, carrying my Canadian passport. Security officials questioned me before allowing me to reach a security barrier about 100 yards from the main entrance to the church. I was distraught and devastated after seeing the damage.  I stood there for more than an hour, prayed, and cried for the lives lost and the damage done to the beloved holy shrine I had been visiting for over 50 years.

Every Tuesday, I went to this church and prayed from the roadside perimeter until I returned to Toronto in June.

Faith and miracles

My attachment to this church dates to 1969, even though I was not born in the Christian religion. I would like to share three incidents that strengthened my faith. In 2003, while coming home from work around midnight in Houston, someone appeared from nowhere, pointed a gun at my head, and demanded all my money. I said, “St. Anthony,” and fortunately, he did not harm me, took my money, and let me go.

In 2010, I faced a similar situation in Houston, said “Anthonyiar,” and my life was saved. In 2016, I tripped and fell on the carpet of my outdoor house in Houston at 11 p.m. I was alone; my family was in Toronto. The owners of the property were on vacation in Europe, the gates operated electronically with a remote, and the keys with the remote were hanging on the wall. I was on the floor with a broken leg. I passed out twice, crying and calling St. Anthony’s name and praying. After four hours, some force built up in me to drag myself to the sofa, reach the keys, and call 911, my family, and a friend. I still cannot believe how I managed it. I would say this was made possible through St. Anthony’s help.

The same day, I was operated on at Memorial Herman Hospital, Houston, and had a metal rod inserted from hip to knee on my right leg. On the third day, my wife and son flew to Houston and brought me home to Toronto. I had to stop working as my family wished. Looking back, I still cannot understand how I survived without the great blessing of St. Anthony. These incidents have always strengthened my devotion and belief.

As we welcome another Holy Easter Sunday, I thought it is the most appropriate moment to say a few words about this miraculous church. I am not writing this for any reason or to convince anyone to visit this place of worship, just to describe my unshakable belief, and the attachment many others have to this miraculous place of worship, irrespective of the religion they were born into. Every year when I visit Sri Lanka, my first stop from the airport is at this Church for a few minutes, and when I leave, I stop for two minutes before heading to the airport.

I still cannot comprehend why this place of worship, along with two other churches, was chosen for this heinous act in our lifetime. These are sad and unpardonable acts against churchgoers.

My only prayer: St. Anthony, please have mercy on these people who carried out these attacks since they were misguided, but praying for others to face the normal Rule of Law, applied on those behind this most monstrous crime.

I recall US President, Richard Nixon’s poignant advice when he was forced to resign, “ Always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don’t win, unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself ”.

Lastly a quote I read by Dear Abby, (Pauline Phillips)  “Prayer is not necessarily in fluency of speech, not in painted imagery, not in deep thoughts, not in burning words, not in the length and breadth and fullness of  petition, prayer is something more: It is the wish of the heart and expression of the dear soul”.

I want to dedicate and honour all who lost their precious lives on Easter Sunday 2019 at the holy churches and at other places (hotels) for reasons we still don’t know.

May God bless all the departed souls.

(The writer is a former Flight Operations Officer, Air Ceylon Ltd)

 

A mission to go in search of that one lost sheep

The women who keep a nation’s children fed

Letters to the Editor

Appreciation

Journey through the cross and resurrection

60+ and still cooking up a storm

Rising on a firm foundation of faith over more than a hundred years

Launch of Our Teardrop by Ranoukh Wijesinha

A delectable dish of a tragicomedy