When I first arrived in India, I kept apologizing for addressing the Bishop as "Father". I asked him how he should be properly addressed and he said not to worry about it. He understood that I originally knew him as Father Prasad in the US so it would take time for me to think of him as Bishop Prasad. So I didn't give it much more thought.
Last week, I traveled with the Bishop to another diocese for a Feast Day celebration. We arrived after midnight so I didn't have a chance to meet our host until the next day when his secretary said he was available. I waltzed right in, shook hands, and sat down across from him and we began chatting. Bishop Prakash is an older gentleman who had been in charge of the Diocese of Cuddapah at one point and he was widely traveled. I am still incredulous when people recognize the name of Cleveland and more surprised when they have visited. But apparently our priests back home are generous hosts and often receive visitors from other countries because so many priests have reported that they have been there. We chatted about the problems in Cuddapah and the opportunities in Vijaywada and promised to meet for lunch. I left him to his work. At mealtime, he invited me to sit next to him and we chatted some more.
Later, the two Bishops asked me to join them for traveling to the outside mass site via our host's shiny white Indian Ambassador, the first car made in India. The current model still looks like a Bentley and anyone who steps out of one is sure to attract a glance or two from someone on the street. It looks like a car that a Bishop would ride in. (Bishop Prasad uses a SUV).
As the two bishops began to inspect the site, they quickly drew a crowd. Women would cover their heads with their saris and ask for a blessing. Men grabbed the Bishop's hands, pressed them to their cheeks and kissed the ring. Others dropped to their knees before them. I started to pay attention. As the other priests showed up, they addressed the Bishops as "my Lord".
Security guards had to hold back the crowds and escort them around. I just tagged along like a groupie and went with the flow.
When we later got back to the ranch in Cuddapah, I started to pay more attention to how the priests here addressed the Bishop. Sure enough, it was "Yes, my Lord" and "No, my Lord". They didn't kiss his ring because they see him during the day. But he travels with an all around bodyguard/driver/servant kind of guy and even at home, he has a gatekeeper who authorizes admittance to an audience. Nobody, but nobody gets to see the Bishop unless they have previously cleared it with the gatekeeper. A little more reverence appears to be in order for the remainder of the stay.
This all just goes to show that you can take the girl out of America, but it's really hard to take the American out of the girl.
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