In 1992, while I was in my third year of theological studies at Dhyanampetta in the Diocese of Eluru, Andhra Pradesh, India, I received heart breaking news from home. My father had fallen seriously ill. He wrote to me several times and also sent word, asking me to come home as soon as possible.
When I arrived, I found him confined to his bed. Looking at me with tears in his eyes, he said, “My son, John, look. There is something inside my stomach moving up and down and that it is causing me terrible pain.
I gently placed my hand on his abdomen and immediately felt a hard, round mass. Even the slightest touch caused him intense suffering. At that moment, my heart sank. It felt as though something inside me had died. Yet, I tried to remain calm for his sake. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” I told him. “I will take you to the hospital. We will find out what this is, and I will do everything I can to help you.”
After a series of medical examinations, the doctor delivered the devastating news. My father had a large abdominal tumor, most likely cancerous. There was nothing more they could do. According to the doctors, he had only one or two weeks left to live. These words struck me like a blow. My priestly ordination was only six months away, and I longed with all my heart for my father to live long enough to witness that joyful day.
I refused to accept the diagnosis without exhausting every possible option. I took him from one hospital to another, hoping that someone would offer a different opinion. Yet everywhere we went, the answer was the same. The tumor was too advanced, and there was no medical treatment that could save him.
Travel was not easy in those days. We had no auto-rickshaws or convenient transportation. I would carry my father in my arms to the bus stop, then help him onto a crowded bus as we traveled to hospitals in nearby towns. Every journey was physically exhausting, but my hope remained alive. As long as there was another doctor to consult, I could not give up. Eventually, however, I reached the point where medicine could do no more. Only God remained.
Finally, when medicine offered no hope, I turned to prayer. I prayed fervently for my father, begging God to save him so that he could witness my ordination. Around that time, I was informed about a chapel where Mother Mary reportedly appeared and spoke to people who were growing in the love of Christ. Hoping for a miracle, I traveled to Vaddiyakadu near Pattukottai in Tamil Nadu. I arrived there on June 15, 1992, and prayed intensely for my father. I stayed for the 15th, 16th, and 17th, but I did not experience anything supernatural. Meanwhile, people who came to the chapel were receiving healings and witnessing great blessings.
Deep down, I began to feel bitter. I thought to myself, “I have dedicated my entire life to God and am preparing to serve Him as a priest, yet He is doing nothing for me.” Gradually, however, I came to realize that my past sins—both physical and psychological—committed against God were blocking me from experiencing His work and His touch. Recognizing this, I immediately felt a profound sorrow for my sins and made a sincere confession. After a confession, a sense of peace came over me, and I felt that I would soon see Jesus or Mother Mary, or have a genuine experience of God. I waited happily for it.
Even though I felt a sense of joy as I lay on my bed that night (June 17th), I could sense a spiritual warfare raging within my heart between good and evil. The faithful part of my heart prayed, “Lord, You created both me and my father. Please save my daddy. You are calling me to be ordained as a priest, and my father needs to see that. I surrender this to You.” In the darkness of my struggle, another voice within me rebelled , “God, if my father dies before my ordination, I will not become a priest. I will live my life however I want, in a sinful manner. I will also tell everyone that You are not the real God.” This intense internal battle went on and on until I finally fell asleep.
Early the next morning, on June 18th, I decided to leave because I still hadn’t experienced anything. It had been three days, and I wanted to go back to be with my father. I went to the chapel and asked Mary, the young woman who lived in that house, to open the doors so I could pray one last time before leaving. She opened the chapel, and immediately, about twenty men, women and childrens entered. As soon as they stepped inside, some began shouting, “Praise You, Jesus! Thank You, Jesus! Bless You, Jesus! Love You, Jesus!”
Annoyed by the noise, I wondered why they were shouting about. Reverend Father Thamburaj, a senior Jesuit priest, happened to be present, so I asked him, “Why are these people constantly shouting?” I then walked further inside the chapel and saw a framed photograph of the crucified Jesus. It was bleeding.
Unable to believe my eyes, I went closer to investigate. To my astonishment, I found that the image of Jesus was bleeding from His five sacred wounds and from the crown of thorns. In my skepticism, I leaned in even closer to verify what I was seeing, and as I did, I smelled the unmistakable scent of raw blood. Yes, I smelled the precious blood of Jesus. That scent filled my nostrils and sent a powerful sensation throughout my entire body.
Instantly, my knees buckled, and I fell to the floor. I surrendered myself completely, crying out the words of St. Thomas: “My Lord and my God!” I also began to praise Jesus and at that moment, I experienced what I can only describe as tasting the Precious Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Right then, Jesus spoke two scripture verses into my heart. “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” (Matthew 10:37). Then, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)
Dear friends in Jesus Christ, I love my parents deeply; they mean everything to me. But after Jesus spoke those words to me, I resolved to place my love for Him above all else, keeping even my parents, brothers, sisters, and relatives secondary to His call. I love Jesus above all things—the Jesus who was crucified for me. That is why I hold tightly to this crucifix and rosary at all times. I used to be a person who relied entirely on my own intellect, but since that experience, I rely only on the wonderful grace of our Lord Jesus.
As I tasted the Precious Blood of Jesus, an immense, overflowing joy filled my soul. The following day, Mother Mary appeared and spoke to the people through the young woman, Mary. While they were communicating, the girl asked, “Mother, why did Jesus shed His blood yesterday from His five wounds and from the crown of thorns?”
Our Blessed Mother answered, “He sheds His blood because sins are increasing in the world, and so Jesus continues to bleed. If you want this bleeding to stop, everyone must stop sinning.” She then lovingly commanded all of us who were gathered there, “Pray for the conversion of sinners.” She specifically told me to pray as well. From that moment on, I dedicated myself to praying for the conversion of sinners.
My friends, I have shared this direct experience of witnessing the bleeding of Jesus and tasting His precious blood so that we may all turn away from our mistakes and sins. May we all experience a deeper conversion, undergo a true change of heart, and return fully to Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God.
God Bless You All – Rev. Fr. John Peter Santhappan, HGN.
Fr John Peter Santhappan HGN. 