“Father Savio was a hard worker, great builder and a good religious.” This is how the provincial would have ended his eulogy at the funeral of Fr Savio.
Fr Savio had built several churches in the missions, and supervised even the construction of a formation house. He was not just a supervisor in these construction sites; often he worked in them himself. He was a six-footer with a well built physique -he could carry two cement bags on either hands and go up the stairs. He could drive long distances without any food or drink. Every one in the province praised him as a self-sacrificing Religious.
He said his prayers, whenever he was in the house. When he could not join monthly recollections – everyone knew Fr Savio was busy. Often he did not celebrate daily mass; sometimes he exercised his baptismal priesthood. When it was his turn to preside at the community Eucharist, he was more than punctual. In the afternoons Fr Savio would have his little nap; and he got irritated by the noise of the boys playing downstairs. Sometimes youth activities in the youth centre had to be adjusted according to Fr Savio’s whims. Of course, everyone tolerated this for sake of peace in the house; and besides Fr Savio had worked hard all his life. Often Fr Savio was very demanding with the staff -wherever he had lived there was a high turnover of cooks and gardeners. Some of his confreres liked him, especially those who had received from him contacts of benefactors. To others, he was just another confrere with his own problems. But then everyone said, “Oh, without Fr Savio, we would have spent so much more money on our buildings.”
But now Fr Savio was bed ridden. He was only 63. Was it blood pressure? Was it depression? The confreres who liked him said, “It is due to exhaustion of hard work.” The provincial had a dilemma, “Now who is going to follow up the building of our new provincial house?” However, the doctors said he needed rest, and may be some counselling too.
As Fr Savio lay on the bed several thoughts crisscrossed in his head: “Is it due to the strong medicines that the doctor has given me? Or am I going mad? What is the use of living? Superiors have just exploited me. No one loves me. Religious life is all a farce. Why have I done all that I’ve done? Yes, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. But I never believed in it. Mother Teresa says, for love of God! Perhaps I don’t have enough faith to even consider that. Evangelisation, education… all just words. Is God just an invention of theologians? I see some of my confrères very happy, I hope they are! What is the reason? And why have I been so miserable all my life. No body does anything for nothing! I said prayers, never prayed. Priesthood was only a way of survival. Oh yes, when I was a young aspirant I wanted to save the souls of young people. Then what happened in between? My hard work was my trump card. Superiors never challenged me…. oh my buildings… were they mere substitutes for my inner emptiness?”
In that agony Fr Savio uttered those powerful words, “Lord, increase my faith!”