ONCE, Christ went to a synagogue and started to teach the people who were impressed by the way he did it, since, according to them, “he was teaching them as one having power, and not as the scribes.” (Mk 1,21)
Then came a man with an unclean spirit who cried out: “What have we to do with thee, Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us?” (Mk 1,22) That was when Christ immediately told the unclean spirit to go out of the man, and it did.
This gospel episode somehow reminds us that when we are practically possessed by some evil spirits who would put us under their bondage, all we have to do is to approach Christ through the many means the Church now offers us. And for sure, that possession would be solved.
While we would ardently hope that the relief be immediate, we know that God in his own mysterious ways would also want us to do our part, and this may take a lot of time and effort. But we are assured that all our needs are taken care of. God’s providence never fails.
Nowadays, we cannot deny that there is practically a widespread demonic possession of people, even those who look good and holy, that puts them in the helpless condition of being addicted to pornography.
The reasons are easy to find: there’s first of all human weakness that is left unattended, then temptations that can easily be covered up and hidden are proliferating, what with the very easy access to pornography in the internet.
We all know that the consumption of pornography gives rise to significant obstacles to genuine progress in one’s interior life and even the balanced development of one’s personality.
We cannot and should not be indifferent to this issue. Some drastic measures ought to be made. And I believe that among the things we can do is first all to come up with plans of prevention and comprehensive education of people that should start from an early age.
In this regard, parents play a crucial role, and so, they should be the first ones to be educated about the proper use of technology, the danger of pornography and how it can be avoided.
They should delay giving mobile phones to their young children. They should learn the art of giving age-appropriate affective and sexual formation to their children. Alternative and healthy activities, like sports, hobbies and deep friendships can be suggested to foster a well-balanced life for their children.
Obviously, some personalized accompaniment of those affected should be done, where a wholistic view of the problem is sought, addressing not only the spiritual aspects but also the anthropological, psychological and emotional dimensions of the problem. In this regard, sincerity and complete transparency should be encouraged by treating those affected always with affection and understanding.
Another thing that can be done, and I think is very important, is the strengthening of the spiritual life, knowing that God’s grace and the spiritual means are fundamental pillars in the struggle for purity. Yes, frequent confession and regular prayers, even Eucharistic adoration and Marian devotion are very helpful in this regard.
We should also learn how to discern and identify clear signs of pathology in this area. For this, we may have to refer those affected to a specialist or a psychiatrist. In all this, a lot of patience is needed.
Let’s hope that we can really drive out this demon of pornography that is possessing a lot of people these days, especially the young ones.
When intakes should cease
This somehow upsets me. The same milk once pushed into my hands by well-meaning adults is now quietly discouraged by my doctor. Eggs, sugar, white rice, and red meat—once praised as fuel for growth—now appear on medical charts with warning marks beside them. I find the reversal unsettling, even slightly absurd, and deeply human.
As a child, food was instruction. “Finish your rice so you’ll grow tall,” elders said, as if height itself were proof of virtue. Meat was strength, sugar was reward, milk was destiny. These were not myths invented by marketers; they were rooted in the real nutritional needs of developing bodies that demanded calories, protein, calcium, and energy in generous amounts. At that stage of life, abundance was not excess—it was necessity.
Then time intervenes, quietly but decisively. The same foods that once built bone and muscle begin to overstay their welcome. Sugar that powered play now taxes the pancreas. White rice that fills thin frames now spikes blood sugar. Fat that once padded growing limbs starts circling arteries like an uninvited guest who refuses to leave. Biology does not moralize; it simply changes the rules mid-game.
What troubles me is how slow we are to accept that the body has seasons. Many of us continue eating like growing children long after growth has stopped. Habit, nostalgia, convenience, and comfort keep the old menu alive. The plate becomes a museum of childhood needs, while the body outside it has already moved on.
There is also a cruel irony in how food carries memory. A bowl of sweetened cereal is never just carbohydrates; it is Saturday morning. A heap of rice is never just starch; it is home. Letting go of these foods, or even reducing them, can feel like betrayal—of family, of culture, of the younger self who thrived on them without consequence. The body, however, has no sentimentality.
Modern illness exposes this contradiction daily. Diabetes clinics are filled with people who did nothing scandalous except eat what once sustained them, just far longer than their bodies could forgive. Heart disease and gout are not sudden punishments; they are slow negotiations between biology and habit, usually lost because habit speaks louder.
This does not mean food turns evil with age. It means context matters. Quantity, frequency, and balance begin to outweigh sheer nutritional content. What once needed encouragement now requires restraint. Maturity, in eating as in life, lies not in denial but in adjustment—knowing when to stop applauding abundance and start practicing care.
The wiser response is neither fear nor nostalgia, but attentiveness. Eat with the body one has now, not the body one remembers. When food is treated as a lifelong conversation rather than a fixed rulebook, it remains what it was meant to be all along: nourishment, not poison, and certainly not regret.