“I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” (Luke 19:40)

Just recently, priests and nuns in Odisha, returning from a prayer service after a bereavement in Jaleswar, Balasore district, were attacked by Bajrang Dal activists. This was no isolated skirmish but a continuation of a grim, unbroken pattern of the targeting of religious personnel for the simple act of fulfilling their pastoral duties. It is a chilling reminder that in today’s India, violence against Christians is no longer exceptional but expected. The brazenness of such assaults reflects an atmosphere of impunity thriving under an increasingly majoritarian political order.

And the intimidation transcends physical violence. In Mumbai, St. Xavier’s College was recently compelled to cancel its annual Stan Swamy lecture after protests by the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), the student wing of the RSS. The cancellation did not merely undermine a one-day academic programme – it silenced a tribute to a Jesuit priest who spent his life defending Adivasi rights and advocating for the voiceless. It also signalled the narrowing of India’s academic spaces, traditionally regarded as sanctuaries of dialogue, dissent and critical thought.

These two recent flashpoints, one on the street in Odisha and the other in the lecture hall in Mumbai, are not isolated events. They sit in direct continuity with a decade of intensifying hostility toward Christians in India.

The arrest of two nuns in Chhattisgarh on charges of forced conversion and human trafficking is emblematic of how legal systems, too, have become battlefields. What might once have been an aberration now feels routine. In 2014, there were 127 documented incidents of violence against Christians. By the first half of 2024, the United Christian Forum had counted 834 such attacks. 

The Evangelical Fellowship of India recorded 840 attacks in that year alone – churches vandalised, pastors beaten, prayer gatherings broken up, families cast out of their communities. The trauma from Manipur in 2023 still lingers – hundreds of mostly Kuki-tribe Christians killed, more than 200 churches reduced to ash. In the first five months of 2025 alone, over 950 incidents have been reported nationwide. What was once the occasional shock has now sedimented into everyday dread, where even Sunday worship unfolds under the shadow of fear.

Two decades ago, such attacks would have sparked street protests, galvanised ecumenical solidarity and drawn sharp national media attention. Today, institutional responses are often slow and formulaic press releases. The Chhattisgarh arrests saw bail secured only after direct political mediation by the Kerala BJP chief, triggering backlash within the BJP and its affiliates. The message was unmistakable: any legal reprieve for Christians will be turned into a political flashpoint, inviting further suspicion and vilification.

Kerala, where Catholics are the third-largest religious group and wield significant influence in education and policy, offers a telling case study. Here, some Church leaders and laity – self-described ‘Chrisanghis’ – have cultivated ties with the BJP, in the hope that political goodwill can serve as a shield in turbulent times.

However, the BJP’s strategy is clear: publicly court Christian support in Kerala while its cadres elsewhere continue to harass or intimidate the same community. The aim is to fracture the minority vote, weaken opposition alliances and present a veneer of inclusion. Meanwhile, anti-conversion laws in a dozen states empower police to arrest Christians on nothing more than suspicion, reinforcing a climate of fear.

The late Father Stan Swamy’s fate remains a disturbing testament to both political overreach and institutional hesitation. A Jesuit priest who fiercely defended Adivasi rights, Swamy was imprisoned under draconian anti-terror laws, denied bail and essential medical care, as a result of which he died in custody in July 2021. 

The charges against him were widely condemned as baseless. And yet the Church’s reaction was muted, hesitant, almost apologetic. What should have been a rallying cry for justice became a moment of quiet retreat. The annual lecture in his honour, cancelled this year under right-wing pressure at St. Xavier’s, drives home how his prophetic voice, and the Church’s own moral courage, have been steadily eroded and confined to the margins.

Increasingly, sections of Christian leadership have sought transactional accommodation with majoritarian parties, hoping to secure temporary protection or resources. However, such alliances are double-edged. In legitimising the political forces that enable or overlook violence, the Church risks hollowing out its credibility as a moral and prophetic institution. Over time, survivalist pragmatism morphs into self-defeat, alienating younger Christians who expect the Church to stand for justice, not just guard its institutions and assets.

The shifting Catholic vote in Kerala epitomises the uncertainty. Once reliably aligned with the Congress-led UDF, the community has become politically fragmented under the pressures of violence, migration fears and internal disillusionment. The BJP eyes these fractures as an opening. The CPI(M) courts Catholics through regional partnerships, while the Congress tries to hold its ground. Yet, for all the political attention, genuine safety and dignity for Christians remain elusive.

The Odisha assaults, the Mumbai silencing, the Chhattisgarh arrests – these are not disparate injustices. They are mirrors showing a sobering reflection: a Church whose historical role in building schools, hospitals and grassroots movements now risks fading into moral irrelevance.

This turning point demands more than careful diplomacy. It demands a return to prophetic clarity, solidarity with all vulnerable groups, and renewed empowerment of lay voices. Younger Christians, in particular, long for leadership that embodies courage rather than cautious accommodation.

If the Church continues down this path of quiet survivalism, it will betray not only its flock but also the constitutional ideals of pluralism and secularism. The choice could not be more urgent: to speak up, to protect the persecuted, to risk discomfort for the sake of justice.

Faith without courage is no faith at all – and if the Church remains silent, the stones, in time, will indeed cry out.

P. John J. Kennedy is an educator and political analyst, based in Bengaluru.

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