By Irudhaya Jothi
Kolkata, October 23, 2026: For nearly eight years, I regularly shouted slogans at Jantar Mantar, New Delhi, alongside poor senior citizens from rural Bengal and Dalit and Adivasi women and men demanding food, work and pension rights.
We travelled from Kolkata in unreserved compartments, walked to protest venues and slept in Sikh gurdwaras. Their hospitality gave us somewhere to bathe and hot meals to sustain us. Sometimes we protested without eating all day, yet the slogans and solidarity kept us going.
One question accompanied me: Would Jesus be shouting beside these people or sitting comfortably in the house of power? I felt him among us, strengthening our resolve: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matthew 5:6).
Mother Teresa of Charity Sister Nirmala would ask, “What is your liberative work today?” Hearing about a planned protest, she encouraged me: “You need to be on the street for the people,” promising her sisters’ prayers.
A Hindu activist once challenged me: Why you Christians pray “Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11) without demanding that governments ensure people can eat? His question exposed the distance between prayer and public responsibility.
Amos supplied the bridge: “Let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” (Amos 5:24).
Prophets refused silence
Scripture repeatedly challenges the misuse of power.
Moses confronted Pharaoh: “Let my people go” (Exodus 8:1). Nathan challenged David: “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7). Elijah accused Ahab: “You have abandoned the LORD’s commands” (1 Kings 18:18).
These were not comfortable spiritual observations. They were confrontations with rulers accountable for wrongdoing.
Isaiah condemned injustice embedded in government: “Woe to those who make unjust laws, to those who issue oppressive decrees, to deprive the poor of their rights” (Isaiah 10:1–2).
He also exposed corrupt leadership: “Your rulers are rebels, companions of thieves… They do not defend the cause of the fatherless” (Isaiah 1:23).
Such witness carried consequences. Jeremiah was beaten and placed in stocks (Jeremiah 20:2). John the Baptist confronted Herod—“It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife” (Mark 6:18)—and suffered imprisonment and execution.
Prophetic faith did not guarantee safety. It demanded fidelity despite danger.
Jesus challenged power
Jesus continued this prophetic tradition.
In the Temple, he declared: “My house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers” (Matthew 21:13).
To religious leaders, he said: “You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces” (Matthew 23:13).
He rejected domination as the pattern for leadership: “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them… But I am among you as one who serves” (Luke 22:25–27).
Before Pilate, he challenged political authority’s claim to absolute power: “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above” (John 19:11).
Jesus did not treat authority as beyond question. He measured it against service, truth and the dignity of those entrusted to its care.
Hearing today’s cries
This tradition challenges how Christians respond to contemporary disputes over voter rolls, exclusion and restrictions on peaceful protest.
Allegations require evidence. Neither government assurances nor opposition accusations should escape scrutiny. Faithfulness to justice demands accuracy, not convenient rumors.
Nevertheless, the moral questions are clear. Can eligible citizens discover why their names have disappeared? Can they appeal effectively? Can students, journalists and ordinary people question authority without intimidation?
For a poor person, voting is not a privilege bestowed by the powerful. It is participation in deciding the nation’s future. Any process that wrongly excludes eligible voters demands correction.
Where people face exclusion, Christians cannot retreat into indifference. We must listen, verify, accompany and act.
Where would Jesus be?
I believe Jesus would stand beside those denied dignity and a voice. He would hear the widow, migrant, Dalit and Adivasi before accepting the explanations of comfortable officials.
Yet he would not belong to any party. He would challenge protesters’ hatred and dishonesty as firmly as rulers’ oppression.
“Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9) belongs beside “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness” (Matthew 5:10).
Prophetic protest must therefore remain nonviolent, truthful and open to correction. Its purpose is not humiliation or revenge, but restored rights and accountable institutions.
The question is not whether Jesus endorses our slogans. It is whether our conduct reflects his justice and mercy.
Church’s choice
The Church must defend Dalit Christian rights and institutional freedoms. But our solidarity cannot stop where our own interests end.
Meetings with political leaders may serve dialogue. They become troubling when photographs replace accountability or access requires silence about suffering.
Pope Francis offered a demanding standard: “I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security” (Evangelii Gaudium, §49).
Jesus’ instruction remains practical: “Give them something to eat” (Mark 6:37).
Tagore’s Gitanjali, Poem 11, offers a parallel summons: “Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!” God is where the tiller works and the pathmaker breaks stones. “Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!”
Prayer must lead us towards people, not shelter us from them.
Back to the streets
Our calling is solidarity, disciplined by truth. Jesus says: “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me” (John 18:37).
I remember the unreserved compartments, the gurdwara meals and the courage of women demanding bread. There I encountered faith made public.
We must leave our protected spaces and let our white garments gather dust. The poor need companions, not distant spectators.
For me, the answer remains: Jesus was not seeking comfort in power. He was beside us, demanding justice.