By fr. JLucas, Feb 1, 2026

My babies, St. Patrick’s Primary school during their sports day

The day’s Gospel had me reflecting on the Beatitudes, especially: “Blessed are the pure in heart.” In an age ruled by algorithms, infinite scrolling, and a marketplace of vulgarity available at the tap of a screen, the question feels almost absurd: Is real purity still possible?

Then I remember where I live.

Jamaica reminds me a great deal of Mombasa on the Kenyan coast — easy to step into, but nearly impossible to leave. The island is generous with its delights: the sea, the rhythm, the laughter, the unapologetically finger-licking food. Jamaican culture is unmistakable, unrepeatable anywhere else on earth. From the proudly talawa (resilient) spirit of the people to the music that seems to rise straight from the soil, it’s a place that refuses to be ignored.

And yet, even after 16 years, one of my greatest culture shocks remains the intensely sexualised atmosphere of society. As a Catholic school priest, I’ve had to develop a PhD in discretion. You can’t casually tell students “I love you” without triggering chaos among the boys… fire pan you!” You keep a respectful distance from the girls, lest a harmless kindness becomes a schoolyard rumour. Even innocent phrases carry double meanings. Language here has a mischievous life of its own.

Ministering to Millennials — and especially Gen Z — adds another layer of challenge. For many of them, the idea of celibacy is not just strange; it’s incomprehensible. A life without romantic or sexual fulfillment is, in their eyes, a life half-lived. Which brings me back to that unforgettable mother.

Last week was consultation day: report forms, worried parents, hopeful students. I spoke with dozens of families, but one mother etched herself permanently into my memory. After discussing her son’s performance and how he could improve, she suddenly pivoted:

“Father, are you married? Do you have children?”

I explained gently, “No biological children. But where I come from, my siblings’ children are mine. And your sons and daughters are also my children. That’s why I care so much about them.”

She looked unconvinced.

So I reached for Scripture: “Some choose not to marry for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 19:12)

That only fueled her determination.

She leaned forward like a lawyer cross-examining a witness. Why would I reject the “sweet part of life”? Why choose loneliness? Why deny myself what she considered life’s greatest treasure? Then she began a full review of my physical features as if reading a product description:

“Sir, you are handsome. Great physique. Wonderful smile. Why don’t you want a woman? If I had met you younger, I’d make sure you fathered a child with me!”

At this point, I began searching heaven for emergency intervention.

I assured her I was deeply happy in my vocation — that watching their children grow physically, spiritually, and academically was more than enough joy for one lifetime. Seeing the queue behind her stretch to the door, I stood to escort her out.

That’s when she delivered the finale:

“You have a flat stomach, lovely hair, and the height every woman wants, man! I want you now!”

Campion collage class 2026 that I tough as a deacon in 2023 and Our lady of the Assumption from Saint Thomans

Mr Brown, my colleague, who had been eavesdropping with the self-control of a man holding back laughter, finally exploded. Between laughs, he reminded her, kindly but firmly, that I am a Roman Catholic priest. Marriage is not forbidden — it is a renunciation freely chosen for a greater love.

She left shaking her head in disappointment, but turned back one last time:

“Take care of our children.”

And there it was. She left disappointed, I was left with a smile and a thought to reflect on ….