The young seminarian was deeply worried. ‘If you tell everybody that I am a Dalit, they might find it hard to continue supporting me in my studies for the priesthood.’

Jesu Ramesh Gudapati is a student at St John’s Regional Major Seminary in Hyderabad, India, one of the several seminaries supported by the Society of St Peter the Apostle (SPA) in England and Wales.

Life has been hard for this 25 year‐old from the Bay of Bengal, studying for the Vijayawada Diocese. As a Dalit, Jesu and his family are part of India’s massive population of ‘Untouchables’, the lowest caste in Hindu society, denied access to positions of authority and responsibility and limited to performing the most menial, often degrading, tasks. Even the word ‘dalit’ implies that such people have been deliberately crushed by those above them in the social hierarchy.

Yet, in spite of being born into a life of hardship and oppression, Dalits often find a deep meaning and joyfulness through their suffering. Dalit art, for example, is world-renowned for its beauty, colour and vitality.

Christianity appeals to Dalit Hindus because it does not have layers of social importance. One convert remarked, ‘In Christianity, I discovered a God who does not see me as untouchable because Jesus embraced even the most untouchable people in his society. Christianity shows me that even though I might be rejected by the rest of the world, I am important to God.’

Jesu’s family is Catholic, but his parents tried to limit his disadvantage by giving their son a strong Hindu name (Ramesh).  His father only manages to earn the equivalent of £4 per month for his work as a catechist and 70p per day as a casual labourer if there is work available. In spite of their poverty, his parents rejoiced when they discovered that their son wanted to become a priest, even if this would remove one able-bodied person who would otherwise help to augment the meagre income.

Jesu reflects, ‘My father has worked very hard to improve my family’s way of life. Every day, whatever else was happening, we prayed the Rosary at 7.30pm. My vocation was planted by my father’s devotion.’

The young man’s experience of injustice has itself played an important part in his vocation to the priesthood. ‘In pastoral terms, I feel called to proclaim and work for justice. Our society tends to exclude the poor and Christianity is the only faith which includes everyone—even non‐Christians.’

One of Jesu’s classmates, Matthew Varaprasada Raju, also finds that his family’s poverty will bring insight into his ministry. ‘I went to a boarding school for poor children, run by the Sisters of Charity. It was the example of the priests and Sisters who cared for me and for other poor children which inspired me to want to care for the poor.’

Matthew spoke lovingly of his parents. ‘My father was a carpenter who was recruited to work on building a new mission where he subsequently became a catechist. He is utterly committed to the Church and rises very early in the morning to read the Bible. My parents were instrumental in bringing me up as a Catholic. Their allowing me to be educated and to study for the priesthood, for the Khammur diocese, is an act of great generosity as I am the only son. I have three sisters, but in India, it is the son’s responsibility to care for his aged parents.’

Matthew recognises the enormous sacrifice made by his parents in permitting him to study for the priesthood. In giving up their only son, they literally put themselves in the hands of Providence, trusting that others will care for them when they become incapable of looking after themselves.

Prakash Rao Arji (26) added to the picture that his classmates presented. His father once worked in a factory as a coolie (labourer), but, retired, is now the sacristan in the local parish. His mother works as a caretaker in a nursery. Yet, even in their poverty, his parents always wanted one of their three sons to be a priest. Prakash himself had always prayed, ’Dear God, let me be a priest’, but a cyclone in 1996, which destroyed his own and 2000 other homes only increased his longing. ‘Priests came from neighbouring dioceses to help us. They were so impressive in the way they cared for us that I wanted even more to become a priest.’

In many developing countries, the decision to become a priest is far from straightforward. The young man and his family have to take a long and reasoned look at their future. By allowing him to go to the seminary, there is one fewer breadwinner in the family. Can the family survive, feed, clothe and educate itself in his absence? What will happen if somebody falls ill or dies? What will happen to his parents in their old age? Can the family afford to contribute towards the cost of seminary training? A period of six years is a long time in the life of a poor family. Priesthood is a difficult decision for a poor family.

Fortunately, thanks to the Society of St Peter the Apostle (SPA) in England and Wales and some generous individuals who take it upon themselves to personally support a seminarian through the SPA, students such as Jesu, Matthew and Prakash were able to follow their call to the priesthood. Their families would never have been able to bear the cost of seminary studies, but the SPA is mandated by the Church to support every mission seminary in the world, the only organisation to do this. The SPA worldwide contributes to the training of more than 30,000 seminarians who will later help to supply the 1,069 dioceses where they will be assigned.

Major seminaries in Kenya, Nigeria, India, Sri Lanka and Pakistan continued training priests in 2009 thanks to £460,931 donated to the SPA in England and Wales, whilst individual sponsors supported over 200 seminarians in their studies. It costs £500 to maintain one student for one year.

This article first appeared in the Catholic Herald