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Mar 15, 2019 1933 Vijaya Bodach

A Hole in My Heart

“I grew up in India in the Episcopal Church. My mother read to us from the big Marathi Bible and my earliest memories are of me in love with Jesus. I would sit only on one half of the chair, reserving the other half for Jesus, owing to which I often fell off of my chair. When I started schooling at Saint Joseph’s Convent school, I wanted to become a nun.”

Best Friend Turned Stranger

But as I grew older, and became aware of the suffering around me, I could not understand how a loving God could permit such pain. “Do something,” I would pray. But my prayers went unanswered. By the time I was twelve, I stopped making space for Jesus in my chair, and in my heart. I quit talking to him. I decided he did not care enough. And I cried and cried because I had lost my best Friend. A couple of years later, when I was fourteen, we moved to the U.S. We joined the Episcopal community. I went to church, but only to please my mother and to sing in the choir. My mother died shortly after I had turned twenty two and I no longer had the desire to go. I did not want to pretend to love Jesus when I felt so lonely. I had to take care of myself, become independent and self-sufficient, because I had no one to rely on anymore. I filled my heart with my studies and work, friends and lovers, music and dance, without realizing how hard- hearted I was becoming. I called myself an atheist.

For many years I was a research scientist. I got married to my college sweetheart, Michael. Together we had two children, Max and Dagny. I quit working to stay at home and raise them. I still stepped into a church once in a while—for weddings and funerals. I craved for some sign that Jesus cared. But nothing special ever happened. Life went on as usual.

The children started growing and once they started school, Michael and I wondered how to counteract the permissive culture, short of homeschooling them. We had parental authority, but nothing higher than that. Had we made a grave mistake in not introducing them to God? What right did we have to deny them this fundamental knowledge? It is one thing to know of God and reject Him as I did. That is free will. But what about not even having the opportunity? I would not forgive myself if that emptiness got filled with other things—evil things. It is real and present. I wanted to arm my children with something real and tangible to fight evil, the true cause of suffering.

Return to First Love

I wanted my children to have what I had as a child—love in Christ. Even if He was just a fairytale, I could not deny the power He had had over me and the effects—complete trust that all will be well, a security that was completely irrational given the state of the world, and a certain resilience that was also unearthly. I did not know that what I had possessed was a peace that passed all understanding.

Softening of Heart

In 2006 as a Christmas gift for my kids, I purchased a children’s Bible with beautiful pictures and historical references. Michael, who had not been raised in a religious environment, offered to read. He spent almost a year reading Bible stories to the children and was amazed and delighted with them.

Yet we felt like hypocrites because as much as we wanted our children to have religious instruction, we did not believe. So the conversation turned to going to church. But to which one would we go?

The number of denominations seemed to have mushroomed since I was a child. There was a gathering of non-denominational Christians that met in the school cafeteria but it seemed so casual. I knew that when two or three are gathered in His name, He is present, but we wanted a sense of the sacred, something transcendent.

When I looked to the Episcopal Church, it was nothing like the one in India or even the Episcopal Church we had attended when we first moved to the U.S. When I looked at other churches, I realized that they had some sort of doctrinal dispute with the Catholic Church. The answer was quite obvious—we needed the Church that Christ established.

The following October we stepped into Saint Jude Catholic Church. I wept all through liturgy. My children worried for me. I whispered to them I was happy to be finally home. After the Holy Mass, I tried to enroll the kids in Sunday school, but the lady in charge asked about their ages (7 and 9 years old) and if they had been baptized. When I said, “Never,” she told me I needed to speak to the deacon about RCIA—Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults.

Although I was annoyed by what I thought were hoops we had to jump through, I quickly realized that RCIA is designed so that one may make an informed decision. We began the long process of studying and questioning. Sunday mornings, Michael and I would be dismissed after the homily to ponder the Gospel while the children sat with our sponsors for the Canon of the Mass.

After the Mass, we would have our instruction in the faith with our sponsors. I will always be grateful to the Knights of Columbus for watching over our children. After a few hours at home, we would return for evening Mass and the children’s religious instruction. Perhaps our family needed a double dose of the Word to take root. But I will always be grateful for how our Sundays automatically became holy days.

A New Creation!

We questioned so many things—the teaching on marriage and sexuality, the Eucharist, on life. I reversed every belief I held that went against the tenets of the faith. I did so willingly even when I did not understand everything because I looked to Mary as an example, who did not argue with the angel at the Annunciation, but gave her Fiat. Paradoxically, everything held together beautifully, even the Mysteries of the faith.

I wonder now if it was due to the powerful prayers at the Rite of Acceptance, when our foreheads were crossed with the following words: “Receive this sign of the cross on your forehead. It is Christ Himself who strengthens you now with His love. Learn to know and follow Him.” After that, the priest said the following words as my sponsor made the sign of the cross over my ears, eyes, lips, etc.

“Receive the sign of the cross on your ears, that you may hear the voice of the Lord.

“Receive the sign of the cross on your eyes, that you may see the glory of God. “Receive the sign of the cross on your lips that you may respond to the word of God.

“Receive the sign of the cross over your heart that Christ may dwell there by faith.

“Receive the sign of the cross on your shoulders, that you may bear the gentle yoke of Christ.

“Receive the sign of the cross on your hands, that Christ may be known in the work which you do.

“Receive the sign of the cross on your feet that you may walk in the way of Christ.” I wept. These words and the sensation of having my hands and yes, even my feet blessed, were overwhelming. I had fallen in love with Jesus all over again. That Christmas was meaningful when we sang “O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord”. During the Lent, while meditating on the sorrowful passion of Jesus, I felt unworthy. I knew I deserved death, not life. But Jesus drew me to Himself and showered all His tender mercies upon me. I wanted nothing more than to be in the shelter of His Cross, to be washed clean in His Blood. On Easter Vigil—April 11, 2009—a date as important as the ones when I got married and gave birth to my two children, I watched Michael, Max and Dagny, getting baptized. My heart was full;, I felt as if I were giving these three loves of mine to Jesus, my first love. Then together, we made a profession of faith and received the Body and Precious Blood of our dear Lord Jesus. Week by week, the God-shaped hole in my heart began to fill. I no longer fall out of chairs, but I am whole again.


Vijaya Bodach

Vijaya Bodach is a scientist-turned-children’s writer with more than 60 books for children and just as many stories, articles and poems in children’s magazines. You can find out more about her at

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