Last Saturday, July 5, 2025, Fr. Matteo Balzano, a Catholic priest of the diocese of Novara in Italy was found lifeless in the parish rectory where he was working as an associate priest. He was 35 years old and just 8 years in the priesthood. That morning, his parishioners had come for Mass as usual but when they could not see their priest (which was unusual), they went and found him dead in his room. He had taken his own life.
In November 2024, Fr. Dennis Conway, another Catholic priest from a diocese in the United States of America also committed suicide. There are many other such tragic stories but they did not make it to the social media space. These are not isolated events. They are cries from a wounded priesthood that many still fail to see and echoes from the silent struggles of priests which many still fail to hear.
The society often views priests as flawless: always strong, always holy, always available. They are expected to counsel others but never break down, preach hope but never feel despair, carry burdens but never collapse. That image is not just wrong – it is deadly. I remember when I lost my immediate elder brother about 2 years ago and someone told me not to cry because I am a priest. I am happy I did not heed to that. I cried and till date, I still cry because I am human.
You see, behind every collar is a man – flesh and blood – who gets tired, feels lonely, battles doubts, and sometimes cries in silence. Yes, priests are consecrated, but not immune to depression, burnout, or trauma. They are not angels in cassocks. They are human.
The tragedy today is that when priests struggle, many suffer in silence. Why? Because society – even within the Church – often punishes vulnerability. People say: “How can you be tired?” “You are a priest, pray harder.” “You have no family – what stress do you have?”
This pressure to be perfect isolates priests. They fear being judged if they admit they are weak. So many wear a smile at the altar and carry hidden wounds in the dark. But remember that even Christ Himself wept. He felt anguish in Gethsemane. He got tired on the way to Calvary.
To the faithful, see your priests as human beings first, men called by grace, yes, but still human. See them as servants who need rest, not sacramental machines. See them as shepherds who also need tending. See them as brothers who need solidarity and mutual presence, not distant icons.
Pray for them – daily. Ask them sincerely: “How are you doing?” Allow them space to be human – without unrealistic expectations. Encourage professional mental and emotional support when needed. Stop gossiping and start listening.
Priestly ministry is beautiful, but it is hard. Really hard. Many priests carry grief they cannot name, disappointments they cannot share, and expectations they cannot meet. Yet they show up – for us. Let us also show up – for them.
To every priest reading this: You are not alone. You are allowed to be human. Your worth is not in your performance. Even Christ fell under the weight of the Cross – and he got help. Do not be afraid to ask for help too. Do not be afraid to speak up. Reach out. Do not carry the burden alone and in silence. You are not a superhuman.
May the soul of Fr Matteo find rest in the Lord.
