When We Are Together, How Do We Live?

Adeladius Makwega MBAGALA

“Tanzania has a responsibility to walk with its chest held high, because His Holiness Pope Leo XIV once lived in Tanzania. His residences, dormitories, the houses he stayed in, the churches where he prayed, and even the friends he lived with are still alive. Therefore, we must use this opportunity to promote tourism.”

These are some of the remarks made in early February 2026 by the Speaker of the National Assembly of the United Republic of Tanzania, Hon. Mussa Azzan Zungu, during a parliamentary session. He was wearing his robe and sash, seated at his desk.

Mwanakwetu reflected deeply on these remarks—on how they were delivered, the timing, and the state of the nation of Tanzania. Many thoughts filled his mind; today, only a few of them form this article.

Dear reader, I ask you to read this article with great attention, especially you laypeople, catechists, deacons, brothers, sisters, priests, bishops, and cardinals—whom I believe this article can reach given today’s technological advances.

This article addresses those brothers and sisters I have mentioned, but it is also a way of reaching our leaders and politicians in Tanzania so that they may change, because today’s Tanzanian society is very different from what it once was.

“In 2025, Mwanakwetu was on vacation. While staying in that area, he felt his personal security was quite weak. Since he sometimes likes to walk to Sunday Mass, he decided to attend a nearby church.

It was during Lent, on a Sunday, and the priest celebrating Mass was called Father Mpete, an elderly priest. The church was a small Rosminian chapel, with no more than 15 novice , two senior sisters, and about 10 young men in priestly formation. On that day, Mwanakwetu attended Mass with his three children.

Father Mpete, the elderly priest, was very cheerful and open that Sunday, and his homily clearly reflected that spirit.

Often, religious-community liturgies do not include a formal collection. But that does not mean that if you attend such a Mass you keep your offering in your pocket—no. You still give your offering and place it on the altar, and the religious themselves later take it to the parish according to their procedures. Unfortunately, in this small church, the person who prepared the liturgy had not placed an offering container. My children and I therefore placed our offering neatly beside the altar, and the Mass continued to its end.

After the Mass, Father Mpete—who himself was a guest—while the resident priest (I think he had come from the congregation’s seminary in Kenya) decided to return home. That Sunday in 2025 was his first after returning from the seminary.

At the end, Father Mpete introduced himself and explained all this, and we—Mwanakwetu and his children—also introduced ourselves.”

Mwanakwetu’s words were as follows:

“I live near you, since we are neighbors to your chapel. That is why we come to pray in your church whenever Mass is celebrated.”

We sang a beautiful hymn, said goodbye, and returned home, while the novices, seminarians, and Father Mpete dispersed back to their respective residences.

Mwanakwetu and his children continued attending Sunday Masses in this small church. Fortunately, in the Sundays that followed, the Rosminians placed a white bowl on a stool for offerings, so the discomfort of placing offerings on the altar ended. They now knew that there was a family praying together with them.

Reader, in this matter I ask you to remember this:

“In 1990, during the Mass celebrated by His Holiness Pope John Paul II (now Saint) on September 2, 1990, these words were said: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Masses celebrated by the Holy Father do not include an offering, but the offerings you give today will be used for pastoral services…’”

Mwanakwetu simply remembers this.

He continues to pray comfortably in this small church. The choir—novices and seminarians—sing the Mass hymns as best they can, even though they lack good musical instruments. Sundays pass, and now it is another Sunday of Lent, probably one of the last Sundays of the season.

Another priest arrived, a young one, who celebrated Mass well as usual. His homily was also good, with strong emphasis on confession.

“Dear brothers and sisters, even the Holy Father himself goes to confession. Let us strive to confess. Some people are hesitant to confess to their own priests—for example, those of us living together in religious communities—fearing that what is confessed might be used in making decisions about our religious lives. I reject this completely. No priest is allowed to do that. If a superior were to use a novice’s or seminarian’s confession, that would not be acceptable.”

During this Mass, as Mwanakwetu looked at all the faithful present—priests, novices, seminarians, and his children—he realized that, by his estimation, he was the oldest Christian in the church that day.

Yet, judging by appearance, anyone looking at him would think he was a young man.

The Mass proceeded well. When the time for announcements came, the young priest—who I think held a leadership role in the congregation—spoke in a Chagga accent and asked the seminarians and novices:

“Do you know this person who came to pray with us? Do you know him?”

The question was directed at Mwanakwetu.

A slim, dark-skinned young man—whom I believe was a seminarian and possibly a leader—answered,

“Yes, we know him,”

Likely referring back to that Sunday when Father Mpete had celebrated Mass and Mwanakwetu’s children had been present.

The Mass ended, we exited peacefully, and we began walking home.

As we were walking, one of the children asked:

“Dad, how is it that we pray here every Sunday, yet the priest asks whether we are known?”

Mwanakwetu replied:

“It is good to know one another given the current global security situation, which is full of suspicion. Suspicion has increased. Just as we ourselves avoided going to the parish because of security concerns, perhaps the priest feels the same way. But security should never be a barrier to people praying.

Also, my children, when we pray here, these Rosminians, within their congregation, recognize one another as Rosminians only. The Capuchins do the same, the Little Sisters do the same, the Benedictines do the same. Their congregations are enclosed within those boxes. We outside are not confined by such categories.

This is something our religious congregations must understand: Jesus Christ cannot be confined within the idea of a congregation or a particular group.”

The discussion continued as we walked home.

The children said that the priest had been wrong to ask that question. The discussion went on, and Mwanakwetu said:

“In human life, everyone makes mistakes—whether a priest, a sister, a catechist, a pastor, a cardinal, the Holy Father, your mother, or me your father. Making mistakes is part of being human. That is why God prepared the sacrament of reconciliation. We are all sinners. When we wrong one another, we should not be held back in Christ by saying, ‘So-and-so wronged me, that’s the end.’ Everyone has their faults—me and others alike. That is why we confess, as that young priest said.”

The children laughed.

As we walked left and right along the road, another child narrated this story:

“One day at school, several religious came—priests and sisters—and we were told to gather in the hall. All the students filled the hall. They gave many explanations about joining a particular religious congregation. At the end, they said anyone who was ready should raise their hand. Unfortunately, not a single student did so.

At the end, the leader of that institution said, ‘You students study in a religious school but you have no Christian formation—why do you refuse to become religious?’ He spoke and then they left, and we students dispersed. So, Dad, I asked myself: is being a religious the only measure of Christian morality?”

Remember, Mwanakwetu is walking home with his children when asked this question, and he replied:

“It is true that the Church needs religious men and women to work in the Lord’s vineyard, but not all of us must become religious. The important thing is this: if you have a child who has a vocation, do not prevent them from becoming a religious just because you yourself failed to do so—that would be wrong. If you have financial means, support others who are religious and truly called to that life.

Also, those who are religious must live in such a way that their lives attract our young people, so that they choose religious life freely. Because the Church is me, you, and that other person—and we live by tolerating one another.”

Indeed, after five minutes we arrived home, drank our Sunday tea, and each person continued with their responsibilities.

What is Mwanakwetu saying today?

Simply this: the Church is me, you, and that other person, with all our weaknesses, tolerating one another, forgiving one another when we wrong each other, and repenting.

Refer to the examples the children mentioned:

“…you study in Church schools yet you refuse to become religious, so you have no Christian morals…

Why does the priest ask whether we are known?”

If those religious read this article and consider these points, another day they will not say the things quoted here. And let religious congregations not think only within their own institutions—Rosminians, Benedictines, Capuchins, Little Sisters—no. For Jesus, there is no stranger; the doors are open to all of us.

Even regarding the Parliament of the United Republic of Tanzania and the remarks of Mussa Azzan Zungu: the core issue is not building renovations or memorials for Pope Leo XIV. The fundamental question is: how do we ourselves live together? How does the government treat its citizens? We must treat one another with goodness.

“People ask: how do you in CCM live among yourselves? Where is Humphrey Polepole? Who abducted him? Why don’t you give answers? Will our other children who engage in politics with you be safe? Even if you build and renovate all the places where Pope Leo XIV once lived, if citizens’ security is absent, who do you think will go there as tourists?”

Therefore, our brother Mussa Azzan Zungu, the key issue is citizens’ security. How do we Tanzanians live with one another? Other issues currently lack weight.

Just as the arguments about religious life were built in this article, Parliament should discuss: where is Humphrey Polepole, and where are all the others who were abducted? Who abducted them? Who is committing this foolishness?

Mwanakwetu’s children are still young, but they critically examine their lives at every step, as well as the lives of those around them—the way they speak, even when those they live with do not realize it. Perhaps only through articles like this can such things be understood.

These children are Tanzanians themselves. Our Parliament should learn from these church-related examples.