By Dr Pauline Wong
I read with sadness of Fr Mateo Balsano, 35 year old, ordained priest in 2017 who took his own life on Jul 5, 2025. His drastic ending left me with profound sorrow and disbelief: How can a priest of Jesus, a man who stood in persona Christi at the altar, offer the world the Body and Blood of our Saviour, felt so utterly consumed by despair, so crashed by silent agony, felt so profoundly alone that he could see no light at the end of the tunnel? This is a wake-up call for all of us in the church, when I read that he was not the first priest to do so. How did we let this happen? And what are we going to do about it? It is a symptom of something big which we are not aware of.
We have for too long held a dangerous and even I would call an ‘unchristian’ view of our Bishops and priests. We have placed them on impossible high pedestals, transforming them from men like us into some sort of superhuman beings who are incapable of feeling pain, sadness or depressed. We see the collars, the cassocks, the vestments and we forget the fragile human hearts that beat beneath them. We turn our priests into spiritual gladiators, expecting them to remain immune to external influences and give them little thoughts when they retreat, bleeding and alone into the silence of their rectory.
Think of our parish priests. We see them on Sundays proclaiming the gospel, other days attending parish meetings, managing the office staff, managing budgets and logistics, offering confessions and visiting the sick in hospitals at odd hours, travelling miles alone to their remote parishes and some even need to cook for themselves! We see them as pillar of strength and comfort, very much like a spiritual vending machine where we insert our needs, a mass intention, a baptism, a wedding, a funeral, or a moment of counsel, to be delivered efficiently, patiently without any complaints and always with a smile.
But what about the man beneath the cassock? What happens when the vending machine felt worn out or grieving its own losses? Do we pass comments and judge? Father is late for appointments. He does not remember my name or answer my WhatsApp. He is not as fervent as before and the like.
Let’s try to imagine the work of a priest as far as we know. He wakes up early in the morning to offer the holy sacrifice of the Mass while the rest of us are still asleep. He then steps down from the altar into the whirlpool of human needs. He counsels a couple preparing for marriage or a couple whose marriage is disintegrating.
Perhaps he is planning for the baptism of children with joyful parents or at the confessional listening to all the sins of the world. He could be visiting homes of the sick and offer hope for the dying. He may be called to deal with the physical amenities like leaking roof of his church building, blocked toilets, and fund-raising activities. At the same time, he has to prepare a spirit-filled homily each day that will touch the hearts of the devout, the critics, the grieving and the bored all at once. By the end of the day, we would imagine him returning to his rectory physically exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained too. There are no children to chatter with or wife to welcome him back with some warm meal and to share his burdens of his heart from the day’s activities for he has given up the human consolations of marriage and family, not because he is inhuman but as a radical testament to the supernatural love for the God he serves. And he has made that sacrifice for us. And how do we repay him? Well, he chose to be a priest, some of us will say. Others will place his life, his words, his actions, his humanity under a microscope. In our church at Sacred Heart, I am proud to know there are groups that reach out to our priests and bring them out for fellowships in the evenings once in a while.
Another difficulty I observed facing our Bishop and priests are the following dilemma: If he is firm in church teaching, he is rigid and out of touch with the world trends. If he shows mercy and pastoral flexibility, he is soft and a compromiser. If he is joyful and laughs casually, he is not serious enough. If he is reserved and quiet, he is aloof and unapproachable. Such scrutiny can become a slow daily crucifixion of the human spirit. We expect him to be ‘Jesus’ in the flesh, forgetting that Jesus also needed his disciples; especially when he was in agony in the garden. He asked them to pray for him.
Suppose a priest feels a cloud of depression descends upon him. Who can he turn to? If he confines in his parishioners, he fears that they will lose faith in him. If he talks to his bishop, he may worry rightly or wrongly that it will leave a mark in his record which may affect his future assignments. If he confines in his fellow priests, he may feel he is burdening them for they are also carrying their own share of the cross. And so, he puts on the mask each morning, celebrates the Mass, sits at the confessional, attends meetings, visits the sick and elderly as if nothing happens within his being.
I think the type of loneliness faced by priests is the most misunderstood in the church. It is the paradox of being surrounded by people and yet being seen by no one. Everyone wants something from him. How many of us just simply want to be with him? How many of us strike ‘little talk’ with our priests that has nothing to do with his work?
Perhaps it is in our culture not to come very close to the priests. I believe many of us want to break through that barrier, but we find ourselves not able to do so for fear of gossip. We want to invite our priests to our little family functions but feel unworthy or think that we would burden him. Perhaps it is about time the priests themselves be open about this. Showing vulnerability should not be a sign of shame or weakness. This culture of stoic perfectionism has become a prison and must go for the mental health of our priests.
The church provides hospitals for the body and confessionals for the soul but we are slow in providing a haven for the wounded mind. We need better mental health resources, confidential support networks and a culture that encourages our priests especially to care for their psychological well-being as diligently as they care for their spiritual lives.
For now, let us as community of believers take up our responsibility to support our priests, Archbishops and bishops seriously. I mean a deep persistent and heartfelt prayer for everyone of them mentioning their names. Pray for the silence and loneliness in the rectory, the burdens from the confessionals, and the responsibilities from their parishes. Pray that they are protected from the temptations of despair. Include them in our family and personal prayers. Other than prayer, offer them some practical help and express our gratitude. Say, ‘Fr, anything I can do to help?’ Don’t just offer a generic thanks. Say, ‘Fr, thank you for the new insight I got from your homily on the Good Samaritan parable. I never saw it that way.’ Such specific gratitude is fuel for his weary soul and reminds him that his work is bearing fruit in the lives of his people. If we hear any unpleasant remarks of our priests, it will be good not to add more fuel to the fire. However, we want to also encourage our priests to be open and accept genuine concerns expressed by the parishioners, as all of us have flaws. None of us would outright want to condemn our priests for no reasons. Right?
