by Our Political Affairs Editor
The cat is out of the bag—though this is hardly the first time. We’ve seen this before. It’s become a wretched ritual in Sri Lanka’s post-war, post-truth society: the Catholic Church cloaks itself in piety, stages public lamentations, weeps before the cameras—and then, with chilling precision, poisons national discourse with moral duplicity, political theatre, and sanctimonious vengeance. What Father Jude Chrysantha Fernando, Director of Public Communications of the Archdiocese of Colombo, yesterday uttered was no slip of the tongue. It was a calculated pronouncement, revealing a Church that has mutated into a cynical political actor, weaponising the grief of Easter Sunday and the cross of Christ not for redemption, but for retribution.
Let us not sugar-coat this. A Catholic priest, in his official capacity, publicly demanded that former Director of State Intelligence, Nilantha Jayawardena, be sentenced to death—hanged. Not tried. Not rehabilitated. Executed. This is not theology. This is not justice. This is moral barbarism draped in sacred robes. And predictably, the Church followed with damage control, wheeling out Father Cyril Gamini Fernando today to deliver the tired, hollow disclaimers: “It was just his personal opinion.” As if the official spokesperson was freelancing on Church time. Who do they think they are fooling?
Let’s stop playing games. Father Jude made his comments at a Church-organised press conference. His call for state-sanctioned killing was deliberate and political. If it were “personal,” why was he on the Church’s platform? Why did the Archbishop not denounce the statement immediately? Why was Father Jude not suspended, stripped of his title, and publicly censured?
The truth is glaring: they cannot rebuke him because his views reflect an unspoken consensus within the upper echelons of the Church. They may not say it aloud, but their behaviour—carefully curated and politically calculated—reveals the same thirst for control. This is not Christ crucified. This is Caiaphas calculating.
The irony is almost farcical. A priest invoking hanging—the very fate Christ suffered under a corrupt empire. Has Father Jude read the Gospels? Has he forgotten Christ’s words: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do”? Not “Hang him.” Not “Deliver justice through the rope.” The Son of God responded to betrayal with divine mercy. And now, a man claiming His authority calls for the gallows. Would Father Jude have joined the mob at Golgotha, shouting “Crucify him!” before leading Mass?
If Nilantha Jayawardena failed in his duty, he must face lawful justice. But not justice by YouTubers, not politically motivated mobs, and certainly not vengeance disguised as righteousness. The rule of law is not mob justice in liturgical vestments. There is no gospel in gallows. Father Jude’s statement was not an error—it was betrayal: of scripture, of priestly ethics, and of the victims he pretends to represent.
Where was the Church’s clarity when it mattered most? Why wasn’t the Cardinal at the altar the day of the carnage? What did he know before the bloodshed? Why the deafening silence around donor funds raised for “justice and truth”? What justice is this, when the Church manipulates grief for political capital?
Now, even key members of government suggest the Cardinal influenced high-level security appointments. If that’s true, the Church shares responsibility for the institutional failures it condemns. You can’t appoint the guards and then lament when the gates fall. That’s not prophecy—it’s complicity.
Let’s not ignore the peculiar decision of the Independent Police Commission. First it cleared Jayawardena, then reversed course. Is this justice? Or just a performance scripted by clerical power?
It’s time to say what many fear: the Sri Lankan Catholic Church has lost its moral compass. It is, in too many instances, a vessel of vengeance masquerading as virtue. Priests who publicly call for death are not men of God—they are blasphemers in robes. If the Church has any integrity left, it must excommunicate Father Jude—not out of spite, but to cleanse itself. His continued presence desecrates not only the victims’ memory but the very altar he serves.
This is the true curse we face: a Church that does not merely stay silent in the face of evil, but one that sometimes joins in—louder than the mob. A Church that calls for execution instead of intercession. That seeks power instead of confession.
The cross was never meant to be a noose. It was meant to be a symbol of hope, sacrifice, and redemption. When it becomes a tool of vengeance wielded by bitter clerics, it ceases to be holy. It becomes grotesque.
For the sake of Christ, the victims, and all who still believe—the Church must cleanse itself before it dares to demand the blood of others.
