Partiality in families: How parents cheat their daughters while dividing family assets

 Sons Inherit Everything and Daughters Get Nothing

  In the landscape of Indian families, one of the ugliest realities is the quiet but devastating injustice that daughters face when family assets are divided. Sons are often showered with land, homes, businesses, and money, while daughters are treated as outsiders in the very families that raised them. Parents, who are expected to embody fairness and love, often betray their daughters when wealth and property come into question. This partiality is not only archaic and discriminatory—it is also cruel, humiliating, and destructive.

 The history of this injustice runs deep in Indian society, with religion, customs, and patriarchal convenience used as excuses to deprive women of what is rightfully theirs. The Mary Roy case is a landmark reminder of how entrenched this discrimination has been and how long daughters had to wait to receive even a basic recognition of equality.

The Everyday Betrayal

 The cruelty of parents in showing partiality towards sons begins early. From childhood itself, sons are groomed to inherit, while daughters are made to feel temporary—destined to be “given away” in marriage. Parents justify their bias by saying, “Daughters will belong to another family,” as if that absolves them of responsibility towards their own flesh and blood.

  When the time comes to divide assets, daughters are either ignored completely or “settled” with token amounts or jewellery, while sons are handed over lands, houses, and businesses. Parents often cloak this injustice under the excuse of dowry, claiming that “we already gave you during marriage,” conveniently forgetting that dowry is an evil social practice, not a legitimate share of inheritance.

 The result? Families are torn apart. Sisters, who once shared the same roof and meals, are reduced to beggars at the doors of their own homes. Parents, instead of protecting their daughters’ rights, often become the very perpetrators of discrimination.

Mary Roy and the Legal Battle for Daughters

 The injustice became most visible in the case of Mary Roy, a Syrian Christian woman from Kerala, India. In her community, women were denied equal inheritance rights under the Travancore Christian Succession Act of 1916, which said that daughters could receive only one-fourth of a son’s share—or a maximum of ₹5,000—while sons inherited the lion’s share of property.

  Mary Roy refused to accept this absurd injustice. She filed a case in the Supreme Court, demanding equality in inheritance for Christian women in Kerala. In 1986, the Supreme Court delivered a historic judgment in her favor, ruling that Christian women in Kerala had the same inheritance rights as men under the Indian Succession Act of 1925.

 This was a thunderbolt against centuries of discrimination. It exposed how law, custom, and religion were being twisted to rob daughters of their rightful inheritance. Yet, despite the victory in court, Mary Roy’s personal battle for her share of property dragged on for decades, reflecting the social resistance to equality even after the law was clear.

Why Parents’ Partiality is Cruel

 It is important to understand that this partiality is not a harmless tradition—it is cruel and destructive on multiple levels.

It humiliates daughters: To be told, “You don’t deserve as much as your brother,” is nothing less than a slap in the face. It tells a daughter that her blood, sweat, and love for her family are less valuable than a son’s. It reduces her to a second-class child in her own home.

 It destroys family bonds: No injustice cuts deeper than when parents betray their daughters. Sisters who once shared the same parents are forced into legal battles with brothers. Families are torn apart in courtrooms, not because daughters are greedy, but because they were denied fairness.

 It reinforces patriarchy: By denying daughters their share, parents feed the larger social structure of patriarchy, where women are seen as dependent on men. Sons grow up entitled, while daughters are left vulnerable, often forced to rely on their husband’s family for survival.

 It exposes hypocrisy of parents: Parents who claim to love all children equally expose their hypocrisy when property division comes. They reveal that their love is conditional and that their daughters are ultimately outsiders in the family tree.

The False Excuses Parents Make

Parents often use flimsy excuses to justify their favouritism.

“We gave dowry during marriage.” But dowry is illegal, immoral, and oppressive. It cannot replace a daughter’s rightful inheritance.

 “She will go to another house.” A daughter may live in another home after marriage, but that does not erase her birthright. Blood ties are not erased by marriage rituals.

 “Sons have to look after the parents.” This argument is outdated and false. In countless families, it is the daughters who care for aging parents, while sons often neglect them. Yet, when it comes to inheritance, the same daughters are told they deserve nothing.

 “We have to keep property within the family name.” This is a meaningless excuse, rooted in pride and patriarchy. Property does not carry honour if it is built on injustice.

 The Aftermath of Injustice

 The cruelty of parental partiality creates scars that last for generations.

 Women lose security. Daughters who are denied inheritance are left without financial security, especially if marriages collapse or husbands die.

Families collapse into litigation. Courts across India are clogged with inheritance disputes, most of them involving sisters fighting brothers for a fair share.

 Bitterness spreads. Parents’ favoritism destroys relationships among siblings, creating bitterness that never heals.

 Cycles of discrimination continue. Sons who receive all the property often repeat the same injustice with their own children.

The Harsh Truth: Parents Are Responsible

 It is easy to blame “society” or “tradition,” but the harsh truth is this: parents are personally responsible for this injustice. Every father and mother who denies their daughter a rightful share is guilty of betrayal. They are not passive victims of custom—they are active participants in discrimination.

 Parents must ask themselves: What legacy are they leaving behind? Property may remain in the family name, but their legacy will be one of betrayal and cruelty.

 Lessons from the Mary Roy Case

  The Mary Roy case should have ended the debate forever. It proved that denying daughters inheritance is not just morally wrong but legally indefensible. Yet, even today, decades after the 1986 judgment, countless families continue to practice the same injustice.

 The lesson from Mary Roy’s struggle is clear: laws can be written in books, but unless families change their mindset, daughters will continue to suffer. True justice is not delivered in courtrooms but in the decisions parents make inside their homes.

What Must Change

 Parents must act with fairness. Daughters deserve equal shares in assets—not as charity, but as a matter of right.

 Brothers must stand up for sisters. Sons who stay silent when their sisters are denied property are complicit in the crime.

 Society must shame discrimination. Families that deny daughters should be socially condemned, not celebrated.

 Legal awareness must spread. Many daughters don’t even know their rights. Awareness campaigns are essential.

 Religious and cultural excuses must be discarded. No faith or tradition can justify injustice.

Conclusion: Stop the Betrayal

 The betrayal of daughters by parents is one of the darkest stains on Indian families. It is an injustice that cuts deeper than poverty or hardship because it comes from those who are supposed to protect, love, and cherish. The Mary Roy case was a landmark, but the spirit of that judgment must enter every household.

  Parents must stop hiding behind tradition, dowry, or excuses of family honor. They must realize that love without fairness is hypocrisy. A daughter who is denied her rightful share is not just deprived of property—she is deprived of dignity, belonging, and justice.

 The harsh truth is this: parents who discriminate in inheritance fail as parents. They may leave behind wealth, but they leave a legacy of betrayal and broken families. The only path forward is equality—equal love, equal rights, equal shares. Anything less is cruelty disguised as tradition.

Christians (Catholics) clinging to traditions and rituals — are they losing Christ?

 Instead of fighting about how the Mass is celebrated, Catholics should ask: Am I receiving the Eucharist worthily? Is Christ transforming me into His likeness?

 In so many Catholic communities today, debates rage endlessly about liturgical rubrics: whether the Mass should be in Latin or vernacular, whether the priest should face the people or the altar, whether communion should be on the tongue or in the hand. Parish groups split, friendships are broken, families argue — all over matters that Christ Himself never mentioned. What does this say about where our focus has shifted?

 Christianity, at its very core, is startlingly simple. It began not with rituals, not with incense or vestments, not with carefully worded liturgies or processions, but with a carpenter from Nazareth who called men and women to follow Him. Jesus Christ did not hand His disciples a manual on how to conduct a Mass. He did not give them detailed prescriptions about liturgical colours, chants, incense, or how long a service should last. Instead, He gave them Himself — His life, His words, His example, His sacrifice. Yet, as centuries rolled on, Christians, especially Catholics, became entangled in traditions, customs, and elaborate structures that often risk overshadowing the living essence of Christ’s message.

 This story is not an attempt to discard Catholic identity or belittle its rich heritage. Rather, it is a plea to rediscover what Jesus actually asked of us, and why clinging too tightly to rituals, symbols, and traditions — even when they are beautiful — can sometimes blind us to the true heart of the Gospel.

The Simplicity of Jesus’ Call

When Jesus called Peter, Andrew, James, and John, He did not invite them into a ritualistic system. He said simply: “Follow me.” Following Him meant leaving their nets, their comfort, their old way of life, and embracing a radical new existence cantered on love of God and love of neighbor.

 Jesus did not measure His followers by how perfectly they performed a ceremony. He measured them by their faith, their humility, and their love. The widow who gave two small coins was praised more highly than the rich who made grand offerings. The Good Samaritan who acted with compassion was exalted above priests and Levites who clung to purity laws but ignored mercy.

 Yet, in so many Catholic communities today, debates rage endlessly about liturgical rubrics: whether the Mass should be in Latin or vernacular, whether the priest should face the people or the altar, whether communion should be on the tongue or in the hand. Parish groups split, friendships are broken, families argue — all over matters that Christ Himself never mentioned. What does this say about where our focus has shifted?

The Weight of Human Traditions

 Jesus Himself warned His followers against elevating human traditions above God’s commandments. In Mark’s Gospel, He rebukes the Pharisees: “You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.” These words should pierce Catholic consciences today.

 There is nothing inherently wrong with traditions. They can point us to God, enrich our worship, and root us in history. But when they become the center of our faith, when they overshadow the living Christ, they turn into stumbling blocks. Catholics may find themselves revering the structure of the Mass more than the One who is present in it. They may argue more passionately about rosary beads than about feeding the hungry. They may obsess over whether a church is built in Gothic or modern style while neglecting the broken families around them.

 What is this if not a modern form of Phariseeism — clinging to externals while forgetting mercy, compassion, and justice?

 The Danger of Idolizing Symbols

 Symbols have their place. A crucifix points us to the sacrifice of Christ. A stained-glass window can lift the mind to heaven. Vestments can remind us of sacred dignity. But when symbols themselves become idols, they distort faith.

 Consider how many Catholics feel more offended if someone does not genuflect before the tabernacle than if someone cheats the poor worker of his wages. Consider how some argue endlessly about whether Gregorian chant is superior to contemporary hymns, yet cannot muster energy to reconcile with an estranged sibling.

 Jesus did not die so that people might endlessly argue about ceremonial details. He died so that humanity could be reconciled to God and to one another. Every time Catholics fight more fiercely about incense than about injustice, about church architecture than about acts of charity, they betray the very Gospel they claim to uphold.

 The Eucharist: A Meal of Love, Not a Battlefield of Rites

 Of all Catholic traditions, the Mass is the most central. Rightly so — it commemorates the Last Supper, Christ’s self-giving on the Cross, and His resurrection presence among His people. Yet how often has this sacred gift become the center of bitter divisions?

 Some insist the Mass must be celebrated only in Latin. Others reject traditional forms and demand constant innovation. Some argue about kneeling, standing, or receiving on the tongue. Still others debate endlessly about liturgical orientation. But pause for a moment: did Jesus at the Last Supper make any of these demands?

 He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to His disciples with the words: “This is my body.” He took the cup, gave thanks, and said: “This is my blood of the covenant, poured out for many.” His focus was on self-giving love, on remembering Him, on sharing life. It was a meal of humility, unity, and love. To weaponize the Mass as a battlefield of rites is to empty it of its true power.

 The Early Church: A Community of Faith, Not Ceremony

 The Acts of the Apostles paints a striking picture of the early Church. Believers gathered in homes, shared meals, prayed together, and sold their possessions to provide for the needy. They broke bread in joy and simplicity of heart.

 There were no cathedrals. No marble altars. No incense or vestments. Yet the Church grew explosively, transforming the Roman Empire. Why? Because people saw authentic love, unity, and courage. They saw men and women who cared for the sick during plagues, who forgave their persecutors, who shared all things in common. The early Christians attracted others not through ceremonies but through radical Christ-like living.

 This should challenge Catholics today. If the Church could grow so powerfully without elaborate rituals, why do we now sometimes cling to them as if they were the essence of faith itself?

A Faith of the Heart

The danger of overemphasizing traditions is that faith becomes external. People begin to measure holiness by attendance at devotions, by the way someone crosses themselves, or by their preference for a particular liturgical style. But Christ looks deeper. He said: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.”

Holiness is not about perfect ritual performance. It is about transformation of the heart. It is about forgiveness, compassion, humility, justice, and mercy. The saints the Church venerates were not saints because they defended one liturgical form over another. They were saints because they loved Christ passionately and poured themselves out for others.

Francis of Assisi stripped himself of worldly wealth to embrace the poor. Teresa of Calcutta picked up the dying from the streets. Maximilian Kolbe gave his life for another prisoner. Their holiness had little to do with ritual debates and everything to do with living the Gospel radically.

The Call to Refocus

So what should Catholics do? It is not necessary to abolish traditions. They can still inspire and guide. But they must never take the center. The focus must always be Christ Himself, His life, His teachings, His love.

Instead of fighting about how the Mass is celebrated, Catholics should ask: Am I receiving the Eucharist worthily? Is Christ transforming me into His likeness?
Instead of obsessing about the correct form of prayer, they should ask: Is my heart burning with love for God and neighbor?
Instead of arguing about sacred art or architecture, they should ask: Am I caring for the poor, the lonely, the forgotten?

Traditions can be good servants, but they are terrible masters. When they begin to master faith, they suffocate it.

Returning to the Essence

At the end of time, when we stand before God, He will not ask us whether we preferred Latin or vernacular, whether we bowed or genuflected, whether we used incense or not. He will ask us whether we loved Him with all our heart and whether we loved our neighbor as ourselves.

The danger for Catholics is not that they have too few traditions, but that they give them too much importance. Christ did not come to establish a museum of rituals. He came to set the world on fire with love.

It is time to return to the essence. To strip away the layers that distract. To remember that Christianity is not about external show but about interior transformation. To live as the first Christians did — with simplicity of heart, boldness of witness, and joy of spirit.

Conclusion: Christ Alone

The Catholic Church is rich in heritage, but heritage must never overshadow the Head of the Church, who is Christ Himself. Catholics must guard against the temptation to cling to rituals, symbols, and debates that distract from the radical call of the Gospel.

Christ alone is enough. His love is enough. His words are enough. His sacrifice is enough. Everything else — liturgy, vestments, traditions, symbols — is secondary.

Let Catholics, then, not lose themselves in defending shadows while neglecting the Light. Let them not fight over rituals while ignoring the cry of the poor. Let them not build their identity on traditions that Jesus never commanded, but on the living faith that He entrusted to His disciples: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

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How the Catholic Church Declined in Europe in the Last 200 Years

  Europe once called itself Christendom. The continent that gave birth to saints, theologians, reformers, and missionaries once crowned kings beneath cathedral domes and marched armies under the sign of the cross. But look at Europe today: faith has been hollowed out, churches stand empty, and the Catholic Church—once the most powerful spiritual and moral force in the West—has shrunk into irrelevance. In many European capitals, the remnants of Catholic grandeur are not houses of prayer but tourist museums, restaurants, hotels, and even bars. In two centuries, what was once the very soul of Europe has been gutted and replaced with a hollow secularism, a consumerist addiction, and a cynical mockery of faith.

 This is not merely decline. It is a collapse. A self-inflicted wound.

Enlightenment and the Seeds of Rebellion

The decline of Catholicism in Europe did not begin with empty pews in the twentieth century. Its roots stretch back to the so-called Enlightenment of the eighteenth century. Philosophers and intellectuals, drunk on reason, science, and human arrogance, declared that man no longer needed God. Reason became the new deity. Voltaire mocked the Church; Rousseau dreamed of a human-cantered utopia; others saw religion as superstition. By the early 19th century, these ideas had spread like wildfire.

 The Catholic Church, once the unquestioned voice of morality, was suddenly dismissed as an obstacle to progress. Faith became an embarrassment among the educated classes. This shift in mindset was deadly, because when belief erodes among the elites, it eventually trickles down to the masses.

The French Revolution and the War on Faith

 The French Revolution epitomized Europe’s rebellion against the Catholic Church. Priests were butchered, monasteries burned, churches desecrated. Altars were smashed, relics destroyed, and the so-called Goddess of Reason was enthroned in Notre Dame. Though France would later reconcile partially with Catholicism, the Revolution marked a permanent scar. The Church was no longer untouchable. It could be mocked, trampled, and discarded.

 This spirit spread throughout Europe. The 19th century brought waves of anti-clericalism—especially in France, Italy, Spain, and later even Germany. Secular governments stripped the Church of lands, schools, and authority. Catholicism became tolerated but despised, mocked as a relic of the past.

Industrialization and the New Gods

 As factories rose and cities grew, the working classes abandoned the rhythms of parish life. Sunday Mass was replaced by shifts in factories. The ringing of church bells could not compete with the roaring of machines. Industrialization produced money, technology, and science—new gods that Europe began to worship.

 At the same time, the rise of modern ideologies—Marxism, liberalism, nationalism—created rival faiths. Workers rallied not under the crucifix but under red banners. Nations demanded loyalty that once belonged to God. The Church struggled to speak to this new world, but its voice grew weaker, drowned by the promises of progress and utopia.

The 20th Century: Wars and the Collapse of Authority

 The two world wars shattered Europe, and with them, faith itself. Millions died in trenches, in concentration camps, in bombed-out cities. Where was God in Auschwitz? Where was the Church when bombs fell on London, Dresden, and Warsaw? People asked these questions, and many concluded that religion had no answers.

After World War II, Europe rose from the ashes not with renewed faith but with hardened secularism. The project of European integration—the EU—was not built on Christian foundations but on bureaucratic, economic, and secular ideals. Faith was deemed irrelevant to progress.

 Worse, during this same century, the Catholic Church’s credibility took fatal blows. In countries like France, Belgium, and Spain, the Church had aligned itself with reactionary monarchies and dictatorships. When those regimes fell, so did the Church’s standing. By tying itself to power, it lost moral authority among ordinary people.

Vatican II and the Internal Weakening

 In the 1960s, Vatican II tried to modernize the Church. Instead of fortifying faith, it accelerated decline in Europe. Altars were overturned, Latin abandoned, traditions discarded. In the name of relevance, the Church stripped itself of mystery and majesty. The Mass became banal. The Church tried to be modern, but modernity already had better offers—cinema, television, politics, and consumerism.

 The faithful, already weakened by secularism, now found little reason to stay. Attendance collapsed. Vocations to priesthood and religious life dried up. Convents and monasteries emptied. The Catholic Church in Europe ceased to inspire awe and instead looked lost, apologetic, desperate to fit in.

Scandals: The Final Betrayal

If wars and secularism weakened the Church, the abuse scandals destroyed whatever credibility remained. The revelations of priests abusing children—and bishops covering up—were the final nails in the coffin. Europeans who still clung to faith turned away in disgust. For a continent already skeptical of religion, the scandals confirmed every suspicion: that the Church was corrupt, hypocritical, and morally bankrupt.

 Trust collapsed. Even devout Catholic families began drifting away. For the younger generations, the Church became not just irrelevant but toxic.

The Churches Become Bars and Hotels

 The most visible symbol of Catholic decline is the fate of Europe’s churches. Walk through Belgium, the Netherlands, or Germany today: majestic churches stand abandoned, stripped of their sacred purpose. Some are museums, preserved for tourists. Others have become libraries, markets, concert halls. Many are worse: pubs, nightclubs, even hotels where the altar is now a bar counter.

 What greater humiliation can there be for a faith that once crowned emperors in these very buildings? Where choirs once sang hymns to God, drunken crowds now cheer football matches. Where incense once rose, the stench of beer and vomit fills the air.

 This is not just decline—it is desecration. And it is tolerated because Europeans no longer see churches as holy spaces, but as mere real estate.

Secular Europe: A Godless Continent

 Today, Europe is the least religious continent in the world. In countries like the Czech Republic, over 70% identify with no religion. In France, fewer than 5% attend weekly Mass. In Germany and Belgium, parishes close every year. Even in once-devout Ireland, Mass attendance has collapsed. The Catholic Church is a shell, clinging to old buildings but with no living faith inside.

 Secularism dominates politics, education, and culture. Abortion, same-sex marriage, and euthanasia—all condemned by Catholic teaching—are widely legalized. The Church’s voice is not just ignored but mocked. Politicians no longer fear its moral authority because it has none.

 Europe has effectively declared independence from God. It celebrates science, technology, wealth, and freedom but has emptied itself spiritually. Cathedrals remain, but as tourist attractions, stripped of living faith.

The Price of Apostasy

 Europe believes it has freed itself from the shackles of religion. But the price is evident. The continent is facing a demographic collapse: birth rates are at historic lows, families disintegrate, loneliness spreads like a plague. Without faith, Europe has no moral anchor, no higher purpose. Consumerism fills the void, but it cannot satisfy the soul.

 Meanwhile, Islam—once resisted by Catholic Europe at Tours, Lepanto, and Vienna—is growing rapidly through immigration and higher birth rates. In some European cities, mosques are being built while churches are being sold. The irony is brutal: a continent that abandoned its own faith may soon find itself defined by another.

The Great Apostasy of Our Time

 The Catholic Church in Europe has not simply declined—it has committed suicide. It surrendered to secularism, diluted its message, chased after modernity, and betrayed its people through scandals. The result is a hollowed-out institution that inspires neither fear nor love, only indifference.

 Europe’s cathedrals, once living monuments to faith, are now empty shells. Some serve as museums for tourists with cameras. Others echo with drunken laughter. These are not just buildings—they are tombstones of a once-great civilization that has abandoned its soul.

Conclusion: From Christendom to Post-Christian Wasteland

 Two centuries ago, Europe was the heart of Christendom. Today, it is a post-Christian wasteland. The Catholic Church, once powerful, is reduced to begging for relevance. Its churches are sold, its priests are few, its faithful are old.

 The decline of Catholicism in Europe is not a mere demographic trend—it is the death of a civilization’s faith. Europe has traded God for reason, faith for science, families for individualism, and cathedrals for bars. The result is spiritual emptiness masked by material wealth.

 The tragedy is that Europe, in rejecting Catholicism, has rejected the very foundation of its culture, art, morality, and identity. What remains is a hollow civilization, prosperous but purposeless, rich but soulless.

 The sight of churches turned into hotels and bars is more than symbolic. It is Europe’s confession: the cross has been abandoned, the altar dismantled, and the chalice replaced with beer mugs. What once was Christendom is now nothing more than a graveyard of faith.

 

The wound of betrayal: A Catholic father’s cry against son’s marriage outside the faith

A Father’s Grief Over His Son

By Mark Antony

Cochin, September 4

 My heart feels torn in a way words can scarcely carry. A father’s love is supposed to rejoice in the happiness of his son, to watch him walk into the future with joy, to bless him as he builds his home. But how do I rejoice, how do I bless, when the very foundation of that future is built on sand, not on the Rock of Christ? My son, my own flesh and blood, raised in the faith of Jesus Christ, has chosen to marry a non-believer. The news fell on me like a thunderbolt—unexpected, shattering, and heavy beyond measure.

 I cannot describe the agony of realizing that the faith that carried our family through generations, the faith for which our forefathers endured trials, persecutions, and even martyrdom, is now being casually discarded by my own child. I raised him in the Church. I taught him the Catechism. I prayed with him at night when he was a boy. I led him to the altar to receive his First Holy Communion. I watched him grow into a young man, believing—sometimes foolishly—that the faith had taken root in his heart. And yet, here I stand today, broken by the truth that his faith is shallow, incomplete, a mere shadow of what it ought to be.

 Marriage is not a social contract. It is not just two people holding hands and smiling before cameras. It is a covenant before God. When two Christians marry, Christ Himself is at the centre, uniting them, blessing them, becoming the third strand in a cord that cannot be broken. But when a Christian marries a non-believer, it is not Christ who stands at the centre—it is compromise. It is division. It is light trying to walk with darkness, and the two will never find true peace.

 I told him this. I pleaded with him. I reminded him of the words of Scripture: “Do not be  unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness?” (2 Corinthians 6:14). He looked at me with indifference, almost annoyance, as though I were speaking outdated traditions that no longer matter. My own son, who once knelt beside me in church, now looks at faith as something optional, negotiable, even dispensable when love or desire calls.

 How can I, as a father, stand and smile at such a union? How can I place my hand on his head and bless him when I know that he is turning his back on the covenant of Christ? My heart says I should rejoice for his happiness, but my soul trembles with sorrow because this happiness is shallow, fleeting, and bound to wound.

 It feels like betrayal—not of me, but of Christ. For marriage is not simply about two individuals—it is about two families, two faiths, two legacies, two heritages coming together. And what heritage does my son wish to pass on? Will he raise his children in the faith? Will he kneel with them at Mass? Will he teach them to pray the rosary, to honour the Eucharist, to confess their sins? Or will they grow up in confusion, half-believing, half-doubting, torn between Christ and the world?

 I look at the woman he has chosen. I do not despise her. She may be kind, respectful, even loving. But she does not know my Lord. She does not bow before the Cross. She does not believe that Christ died and rose for her salvation. How then can she walk hand in hand with my son into a covenant meant to glorify God? Even if she promises respect, even if she assures us of tolerance, how long will that last when real decisions come—when it comes to raising children, when it comes to choosing worship, when it comes to living a Christian witness before the world?

 My tears are not for myself. They are for my son. He does not see the danger. He is blinded by emotions that will fade, but faithlessness has consequences that endure. He thinks he can manage both—marry outside the faith and still keep a lukewarm grip on Christianity. But lukewarmness is vomited out by the Lord (Revelation 3:16). Faith is not meant to be half-hearted, and marriage cannot thrive on half-truths.

 I have prayed nights without sleep. I have begged the Lord to turn his heart back, to open his eyes before it is too late. And yet, God has given man free will, and it is this free will that cuts deepest. My son is free to choose, even if his choice breaks my heart and wounds his soul. I cannot force him, though everything in me longs to shake him and bring him back to the truth.

 The sorrow of a Catholic father is not just that his son is marrying outside the faith, but that in doing so, he is abandoning the inheritance of Christ. This inheritance is more precious than wealth, more lasting than lands, more glorious than earthly honour. It is the inheritance of salvation, the inheritance of the sacraments, the inheritance of grace. To throw that away for the sake of worldly love is the greatest tragedy.

 And yet, as heart-broken as I am, I still ask: is there a way out for him? Is there redemption? Can he still be saved from the error of his ways? My hope rests on the same Christ he now disregards. The prodigal son wandered far from his father’s house, squandering his inheritance, only to return broken, ashamed, but repentant. And the father embraced him. Perhaps my son, too, will one day see the emptiness of a marriage not cantered in Christ. Perhaps the trials of life will teach him what I could not. Perhaps he will come running back to the Lord in tears, and the Lord—merciful beyond measure—will welcome him home.

 Until then, my duty is to pray unceasingly. I cannot bless this union, but I can intercede for his soul. I cannot stand with joy at his wedding, but I can kneel with tears before the tabernacle. I can carry his name to the altar day after day, begging Christ to pierce his heart, to draw him back, to reveal Himself in power and mercy.

 As for me, I will not give up. I may be broken, but I am not hopeless. My faith teaches me that no soul is beyond redemption, no wanderer too far gone for the Shepherd to seek. If the Lord could rescue Augustine from his rebellion, if He could transform Saul into Paul, then surely He can reach my son, even if it takes years of struggle, even if it takes heartbreak.

 But until that day comes, the wound remains. I am a father torn between love for my son and loyalty to my Saviour. I am asked to celebrate when I can only mourn. I am told to move with the times when I know eternity is at stake. I am asked to smile when my soul is on its knees in grief.

 So I will carry this cross. I will pray, I will plead, I will endure. And I will wait for the day when my son, who has strayed from the faith of his fathers, comes home again—not just to me, but to Christ. For only then will my broken heart find healing. Only then will the tears of a father be wiped away.

 

Breaking generational bondages: how to defeat ancestral curses through Christ

 While bondages can pass through generations, they do not have to. In Christ, the power to break the chain is real.

 

 The Bible affirms that certain bondages—especially those tied to sin, idolatry, and rebellion against God—can pass from one generation to the next. This idea is often referred to as generational curses or generational iniquity. These aren't merely inherited behaviors or family traits but spiritual consequences of sin that ripple through bloodlines if not broken.

In Exodus 20:5, God declares, “I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me.” Similar language is found in Exodus 34:7 and Numbers 14:18, indicating that the spiritual consequences of sin can last for generations. These verses point to a pattern of bondage—not that God arbitrarily punishes innocent children, but that when sin is left unrepented and unchecked, its effects accumulate through families.

This plays out in Scripture: King David’s sin with Bathsheba didn’t end with his repentance; consequences haunted his house through Absalom’s rebellion and turmoil in his kingdom (2 Samuel 12-18). Likewise, Achan’s disobedience led to the destruction of his entire household (Joshua 7), showing that individual actions can defile and bring destruction upon families.

However, the Bible also offers a way out. Ezekiel 18:20 brings balance: “The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father… the soul who sins shall die.” This highlights individual responsibility and God's justice. In the New Testament, Galatians 3:13 is the ultimate declaration of freedom: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us.”

So, while bondages can pass through generations, they do not have to. In Christ, the power to break the chain is real. Through repentance, prayer, renunciation of ancestral sins, and the power of Jesus’ blood, believers can stop the inheritance of bondage and begin a legacy of righteousness.

Spiritual history may shape your starting point, but it does not have to define your future.

Sin has consequences

The Bible is relentless in its warning: sin has consequences, and those consequences can echo through bloodlines. Generational bondage—whether called iniquity, curses, or ancestral guilt—can grip families with recurring patterns of failure, sickness, addiction, or spiritual deadness. This is not metaphysical speculation but a hard reality addressed repeatedly in Scripture, a reality that demands both recognition and resistance.

In the Old Testament, God’s justice and mercy are revealed side by side. Exodus 20:5 delivers a chilling warning: “I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the iniquity of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me.” But God’s grace dimensions the other side of the coin in verse 6: “showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.” The message is deadly serious: sin has a legacy—but so does repentance and loyalty to God.

This idea resurfaces in Exodus 34:6–7, emphasizing God’s character: merciful and gracious, yet refusing to clear the guilty, visiting iniquity across generations.  And yet, Ezekiel demolishes any notion of inherited personal guilt with Ephesians 18:20—“The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the guilt of the father.” The tension between these texts reveals a truth: inherited toxic patterns exist—but each person remains responsible before God. Salvation through Christ redefines that responsibility, freeing individuals to break the cycle.

Generational curse isn’t mere talk; it’s real in family life. Patterns of addiction, relational breakdown, mental illness, poverty, violence—these can rear their heads repeatedly across generations. Counseling professionals and pastors alike observe this, recognizing spiritual strongholds at the heart of recurring dysfunction.

So how do we break free? The Bible doesn’t leave us stranded in despair. Galatians 3:13 opens the door wide: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us…” In Him, the cycle is fractured. We aren’t doomed to repeat the sins of our ancestors.

The warfare begins with recognition. A person must identify the patterns and root issues running through their family. Hosea 4:6 warns that lack of knowledge destroys us. You can’t liberate what you don’t recognize.

Once patterns are identified, we declare our freedom in Christ. Galatians 3:13-14 promises redemption and inheritance through Jesus. Speak it. Believe it. Rewrite your family's spiritual script.

Confession is the next ambush tactic. 1 John 1:9 assures us: if we confess, He is faithful and just to cleanse us from unrighteousness. Confess personal and generational sins alike. Renounce them. Turn away fully, not just for yourself but on behalf of your bloodline.

When repentance happens, begin to replace patterns. Romans 12:2 insists on transformation through renewing your mind—this is non-negotiable. Start small. If anger dominated your parents, cultivate patience. If addictions plagued your grandparents, embrace sobriety and accountability. Build new, godly traditions.

Bind up the enemy

Binding and loosing give spiritual teeth to these steps. Jesus said in Matthew 16:19, “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.” Declare yourself free from generational curses. Bind up the enemy. Loose blessings. Prayer and fasting amplify this warfare. In Matthew 17:21, Jesus admitted, “This kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting.” Use fasting to strip away the flesh and heighten dependence on the Spirit.

Forgiveness cuts the cords that tether us to the past. Holding resentments against ancestors or family members gives the enemy purchase. Christian humility demands releasing them into God’s hands—even if justice has not been served.

Remove objects or influences tied to occultism, superstition, or sin. Break soul ties—those spiritual chains formed by ungodly connections. Such ties must be severed for full deliverance.

Root your healing in Scripture. Verses like Psalm 107:20, Psalm 119:105, Galatians 5:1, 2 Corinthians 5:17 become weapons and lifelines. Declare them over your home, your habits, your family’s future.

Support matters. James 5:16 encourages confession to one another for healing. Align with spiritually mature believers who can speak truth, keep you accountable, and pray for you in warfare.

Deliverance is real. The cross disarmed principalities and powers (Colossians 2:15). Christians aren’t powerless. If necessary, seek pastoral deliverance prayers, exorcism, or spiritual counsels—but always with biblical oversight and accountability.

This all isn’t fluff. Real Christians and families testify to breakthrough: restored peace, healed bodies, freedom from addiction, renewed relationships. Darkness yields when confronted with repentance, faith, Scripture, and the authority of Christ.

Generational bondage is not invincible. The blood of Jesus is more powerful. Your past ancestry does not determine your destiny. You are a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17)—the old has died. Walk in that truth. End the cycle. Begin the legacy of hope.

 

How the Devil gains control of homes & land and how to take them back

  Can demons seize control of specific houses and land? Absolutely. The devil’s quest to control homes and lands is a sobering reality that believers cannot afford to ignore.

 Houses and land gripped by demons or the devil bring relentless torment to their inhabitants. Those trapped within suffer from unexplained illnesses, financial ruin, and a crushing absence of peace.

Homes and lands can become battlegrounds of unseen evil when spiritual doors are left open. Through faith, prayer, and sacramental authority, believers can reclaim what darkness tries to possess.

 The spiritual battlefield is not confined to the realms of the abstract or invisible; it extends deep into the very soil beneath our feet and the homes we live in. The Bible makes clear that demonic forces and the devil have power and influence in the physical world, including over places—houses, lands, and territories. These dark forces seek to seize control and establish bondage, wreaking havoc on the lives of those who inhabit these places. The question is not if this can happen, but how it happens, and more importantly, how believers can wrestle back control through the power granted to them by Christ.

The Bible’s portrayal of spiritual warfare makes it evident that the devil is a roaring lion, prowling to devour (1 Peter 5:8). This devouring is not limited to souls alone but also extends to places where souls dwell. Ephesians 6:12 warns believers that their struggle is “not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” These “dark world” powers are not abstract; they manifest in tangible ways, targeting homes and lands to spread misery and ruin.

How does the devil gain control over homes and land?

The devil gains footholds in places through what the Bible calls “spiritual doors”—openings created by sin, occult practices, curses, and neglect of God’s presence and protection. The Book of Deuteronomy speaks of curses that can come upon a family or land due to disobedience to God’s laws (Deuteronomy 28). Such curses can open the door to demonic influence.

 One primary way the devil establishes control is through occult practices—rituals, divination, witchcraft, séances, ouija boards, and spiritism. These acts are blatant invitations for demonic forces to enter and take root in a home or land (Deuteronomy 18:10-12). People who dabble in these dark arts unknowingly or knowingly open their households and properties to spiritual bondage.

 Another doorway is prolonged unrepented sin, especially unforgiveness, hatred, and persistent rebellion against God’s commandments. Such attitudes poison the spiritual atmosphere of a home, weakening its defenses and inviting demonic oppression. 1 John 3:8 reminds us that “the reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.” Yet, without vigilance, the devil can still hold sway over environments where sin festers unchecked.

 Generational sin and curses also play a role. Ezekiel 18:20 states that a son will not share the guilt of the father, but in practice, many families suffer consequences of ancestral sins that went unrepented. This can lead to a chain of spiritual problems passed down through the bloodline and land, which can manifest as financial ruin, sickness, accidents, and unrest.

 Neglecting prayer, worship, and the use of spiritual weapons leaves homes vulnerable. The Bible is clear that prayer and faith are shields against the devil’s schemes (Ephesians 6:13-18). Without spiritual vigilance, the enemy exploits weakness, creeping in like a thief in the night (John 10:10).

What happens when the devil controls a home or land?

When a place falls under demonic control, it becomes a battlefield where peace is elusive and suffering is the norm. The residents may face a range of troubles: mysterious illnesses with no medical explanation, chronic financial losses, broken relationships, and an overwhelming sense of fear, despair, and spiritual oppression.

Physical manifestations often accompany this bondage—doors slamming, unexplained noises, shadows flickering, strange smells, and sudden cold spots. These are signs that the place is not just a house or land but a spiritual war zone.

The devil’s objective is to destroy faith, break families, and sever the connection between God and His people. When a home is held captive by darkness, the spiritual atmosphere becomes toxic, suppressing prayer, discouraging faith, and opening the door for further evil influence.

How to take back what the devil has seized

Reclaiming homes and land from demonic control requires a firm, biblically grounded approach rooted in faith, prayer, repentance, and the authority given by Jesus Christ. It is not a matter of superstition or folklore but a spiritual battle fought on holy ground.

The first step is repentance. The occupants must examine their hearts and lives, confessing all sins—especially those related to occult practices or harbouring bitterness, unforgiveness, and hatred. Repentance is the key that closes the doors the enemy has used to enter.

Next comes spiritual cleansing through prayer and the Word of God. Psalm 91 is often invoked for protection; it speaks of God as a refuge and fortress against evil. Scripture is a sword against the devil’s lies (Ephesians 6:17). Reading and declaring the Word aloud fills the home with divine authority.

The Christian practice of exorcism—casting out demons—has its biblical foundation in Jesus’ ministry. He repeatedly cast out unclean spirits, freeing people from demonic bondage (Mark 1:25-26). Today, trained priests and ministers use the authority of Christ to perform deliverance prayers, commanding evil spirits to leave the premises.

Anointing the house and land with blessed oil or holy water is a sacramental act that symbolizes cleansing and consecration. It is a declaration that the place belongs to God and no longer to the devil. This act is rooted in the Bible, where anointing signifies being set apart for God’s purposes (James 5:14).

Furthermore, removing anything associated with occultism—objects, symbols, and artifacts—is essential. These items act as spiritual anchors for demonic forces. Destroying or removing these items cuts off the enemy’s grip.

Continuous prayer and worship in the home build a spiritual fortress. Inviting God’s presence through praise, singing, and Scripture reading invites the Holy Spirit to dwell and sanctify the place. As long as the light of Christ shines, darkness cannot prevail.

Believers are also encouraged to exercise their God-given authority daily by declaring protection over their homes and land, rebuking any evil in the name of Jesus. Faith is a weapon; where faith dwells, the devil cannot.

Conclusion

 The Bible teaches that spiritual warfare is real and that darkness seeks to claim any place where it is allowed. However, the power to resist, reclaim, and protect lies firmly in the hands of those who follow Christ. Through repentance, faith, prayer, and the use of God’s Word and sacraments, believers can break every chain of bondage and restore peace to their homes and land.

This is not a matter of fear but of faith—knowing that Jesus Christ has already won the ultimate victory over Satan and his demons. As the light of Christ shines in any place, the darkness has no choice but to flee. The battlefield may be fierce, but with God’s power, the devil’s hold can be broken, and homes and lands can once again be sanctuaries of peace and blessing.

 

Demons can cause illness -- stay vigilant, discern the signs

 Jesus teaches that the devil and demons can cause sickness by binding people physically, mentally, and spiritually

 

Scripture and centuries of Christian teaching say that demons can cause sickness in certain cases. While not all illness is demonic, the Bible provides clear examples where physical or mental afflictions are directly linked to evil spirits. Jesus often cast out demons from people who were blind, mute, epileptic, or emotionally tormented—healing them immediately after. In Luke 13, He describes a woman bent over for 18 years as being “bound by Satan.” This suggests that some ailments have spiritual roots, not just medical ones.

Catholic exorcists also affirm that demonic forces can manifest as sickness—especially when medical explanations fail. These are often referred to as “demonic vexations,” causing pain, disease, or trauma through spiritual oppression. However, such cases are rare and require careful discernment. Most illnesses have natural causes, but the spiritual dimension cannot be dismissed entirely when facing persistent or mysterious suffering.

 In an age dominated by medicine and diagnostics, it seems almost unimaginable to suggest that demons—figurative or real—could bring illness. Yet Father Gabriele Amorth, the Vatican’s chief exorcist until his death in 2016, insisted otherwise. For decades, he confronted cases where sickness and pain resisted diagnosis and treatment. In his vast experience—he claimed to have performed over 50,000 exorcisms—he uncovered patterns of physical maladies that, when all medical avenues failed, appeared to stem from spiritual affliction.

 Amorth warned bluntly: “It is essential not to confuse demonic possession with ordinary illness. The symptoms of possession often include violent headaches and stomach cramps, but you must always go to the doctor before you go to the exorcist.” He clarified that among the thousands he encountered, only about a hundred “have been truly possessed.” His point: doctors first, then discernment. But for those rare few, the devil’s assault was unmistakable.

 Demonic activity manifests in various forms—some overtly spiritual, others subtly physical. One classification he used is that of “diabolical vexation,” where a demon inflicts physical harm without possession. This could mean scratches, burns, bruises, unexplained broken bones, or debilitating pain. He recounted the story of a woman whose painful tumour vanished during an exorcism: “In liberating a demoniac, the woman was contemporaneously cured of a terrible tumour.”

 What dairy science dismisses as psychosomatic, Amorth saw as spiritual sabotage. He described cases of people experiencing sudden leg tremors, abdominal agony, or mood swings—symptoms that would strike without warning, often in moments when the person was near a place of worship or confronted with sacred symbols. The afflicted might slip away to a restroom, wait for the attack to pass, and return to work, concealing their suffering in plain sight.

 In one memorable case, a nineteen-year-old girl manifested a physical and spiritual lockdown: stomach ailment, insomnia, irritability. When Amorth lifted her eyelids, he saw her eyes entirely white, pupils rolled back—then a voice hissed, “I am Satan.” He labored with her for two years before liberation.

 The link between spiritual and physical distress wasn’t always direct. Amorth described multiple possessions, where individuals were held by several demons, sometimes arranged hierarchically like a legion. Only after the lesser spirits departed could the chief one be defeated.

 What, then, initiates such assaults? Frequently, Amorth said, it was involvement with occult practices—séances, wizards, spells—or deeply sinful or reckless behaviour. He also spoke candidly of curses: “cases of young men cursed by their fathers at birth, parents cursing their daughter-in-law at their wedding, even a grandmother cursing a photograph, leading to severe leg ailments.” These afflictions defied medical explanation and required spiritual care.

Amorth’s approach was never reckless. He held that “an exorcism does no one any harm,” and that medical and psychiatric clinicians should be involved whenever possible. He encouraged collaboration: “psychologists and exorcists… even if he is not a believer… all that is necessary is that he recognize… that science, at times, can do nothing.” Indeed, he insisted on discernment—distinguishing genuine spiritual harm from psychological or physical illness was a specialist’s task, calling for both faith and prudence.

 The symptoms of true possession were dramatic and unmistakable. Patients might levitate, speak languages they never learned, display extraordinary strength, or vomit pins and shards. Amorth recalled a case when a girl began speaking Greek even though she only knew a dialect, or limbs stiffened and bodies hovered after a fierce exorcism began—then icy frost gathered on walls. “No two cases are the same,” he said, describing bodies convulsing or becoming “hard,” “hovering three feet in the air.”

 Yet, for all its drama, Amorth urged humility: “We are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities… spiritual hosts of wickedness.” He emphasized that the battle is spiritual first, physical second. “There is no good spirits other than angels; there are no evil spirits other than demons.” God’s weapons—prayer, fasting, sacraments—are the only tools against such assaults.

 And though exorcism was his calling, he stressed that most healing began in everyday faith: confession, prayer, charity. “Spiritual help, such as serious prayer and the confession of one's sins, are often more valuable than exorcisms.” The battle for health, in his view, must be fought on holy ground—through faith in Christ’s victory, not only with ritual.

Amorth’s legacy is complex. He refused the binary of either superstition or secular skepticism. He said: “Very few scientists seriously believe in invisible, intelligent, incorporeal powers… Rare is the doctor who will admit… that they may be dealing with a different set of causes when faced with unexplainable symptoms.” As such, he embodied a blend: first, trust medical care; second, when that fails, ask if it might—and why not—be spiritual.

 The stories are unsettling: bodies twisting, tumours vanishing, curses passed down through generations, healing emerging through holy water and sign of the cross. But Amorth’s most enduring message might be his insistence on compassionate discernment in the gray areas—areas where neither medicine nor superstition, but only a marriage of faith and reason, can bring healing.

If modern medicine falls short, if illness resists diagnosis, the question might not be only “What does science say?” but also “What does the spirit suffer?” For Amorth, healing always began with seeing that suffering, then bringing the faith that sets us free—not just in body, but in soul.

 Jesus Christ on demons, the devil, and their role in causing sickness and healing

 In the Bible, Jesus Christ speaks openly about demons and the devil playing a role in causing sickness and various physical and mental afflictions. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus often encounters people who are suffering not just from natural illnesses but from conditions directly linked to demonic oppression. These accounts show that many ailments were not merely medical problems but manifestations of spiritual bondage.

For example, in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus heals a man who was both blind and mute, and it is clear that this condition was caused by demonic possession. When Jesus cast out the demon, the man was immediately healed and able to see and speak. This illustrates how physical sickness can sometimes be tied to spiritual forces. Similarly, in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus heals a woman who had been bent over and unable to straighten up for eighteen years. He explicitly says that Satan had bound her in this way, preventing her from standing tall. By freeing her from this bondage, Jesus not only heals her body but also liberates her from the devil’s hold.

Jesus also dealt with more dramatic cases of demonic influence causing physical symptoms. One striking example is when a boy is brought to Jesus suffering from seizures and violent convulsions. Jesus identifies the root cause as a deaf and mute spirit and commands the demon to leave, which brings immediate relief to the boy. This shows that even severe physical and neurological symptoms can have spiritual origins, and healing requires addressing that spiritual root.

In several instances, Jesus casts out demons that were causing mental disturbances, violent behaviour, and other extreme conditions. The story of the Gerasene demoniac, a man so tormented by demons that he lived among the tombs and was uncontrollable, highlights how demonic possession can profoundly affect mental and emotional health. When Jesus commands the demons to leave, the man is restored to peace and clarity, demonstrating the connection between spiritual deliverance and mental healing.

Throughout His ministry, Jesus linked physical healing with casting out demons. He healed many who were oppressed by evil spirits, showing that these spiritual forces often underlie sickness and suffering. The early Church, following Jesus’ example, continued this practice by preaching deliverance and healing together, recognizing that true restoration comes through freedom from spiritual bondage.

Jesus also gave His disciples authority to cast out demons and heal diseases, indicating that spiritual warfare and physical healing are intertwined. This authority wasn’t just for Him alone; He empowered others to confront the forces of evil that cause illness and suffering. The implication is clear: healing is not always just about treating symptoms but often involves spiritual liberation.

In summary, Jesus teaches that the devil and demons can cause sickness by binding people physically, mentally, and spiritually. His healing ministry addresses both the physical and spiritual dimensions of illness, offering freedom from demonic oppression as the pathway to true health. This understanding challenges us to look beyond just medical explanations and consider the spiritual realities that affect human well-being.