Reflections on Cambodia: A Journey Through History and Humanity

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Cambodia, a nation nestled between Thailand and Vietnam. With a population of 16 million, Cambodia spans an area four times larger than Kerala but has only half its population —a striking observation that immediately caught my attention.  

A century ago, Cambodia was home to nearly 30 million people. By the 1970s, wars, famines, and genocide had reduced this number to a fraction. The most devastating blow came during the brutal Khmer Rouge regime (1975–1979), where radical communists executed intellectuals, minorities, and dissenters in their quest to create an agrarian utopia.  

The Shadow of Extremism  

The 20th century witnessed the rise of totalitarian ideologies. Communism, which seized power in Russia and China through rivers of blood, sought global domination. Cambodia became one of its grimmest chapters. While India resisted full communist rule, its socialist economic policies mirrored some of these tendencies. My time in Ethiopia during its communist era (1987–1991) revealed similar patterns of fear and authoritarian control.  

Today, as communism wanes, another threat looms: radical Islamism. Its ambition to impose a singular religious order—where all must worship Allah and accept Muhammad as the final prophet—mirrors the absolutism of past ideologies. Europe’s demographic shifts and America’s struggle to counter this tide will shape humanity’s future. The consequences of inaction could mirror Cambodia’s tragedy—a global genocide halving our population.  

A Beacon of Harmony  

Amidst these reflections, Cambodia offered a revelation: its seamless blend of Hinduism and Buddhism. At Angkor Wat, originally a Hindu temple dedicated to Vishnu and later transformed into a Buddhist site, I met locals who worship both Shiva and Buddha without contradiction. Their syncretic faith—where "Hindu" and "Buddhist" are not labels but shared heritage—is a lesson for our fractured world.  

In an era where religions divide, Cambodia whispers an alternative: What if all faiths could coexist as threads in humanity’s tapestry? Imagine a world where one could be Hindu, Muslim, and Christian—not by conversion, but by embracing shared wisdom. This cultural pluralism, not extremism, may be our antidote.  

 A Call for Vigilance  

History warns us: unchecked ideologies—whether communist or Islamist—lead to mass graves. Cambodia’s Killing Fields (where 25% of the population perished) and the Islamic State’s atrocities are grim reminders. As the West grapples with demographic change, the world must heed Cambodia’s dual legacy: the horrors of fanaticism and the hope of harmony.  

Final Thought:  

"Cambodia taught me that temples outlast tyrants. Angkor Wat’s stones, carved by Hindus and cherished by Buddhists, stand as testament to resilience. In their shadows, we find a choice: repeat history’s bloodshed or build bridges of coexistence."  

John Kunnathu 

The Longing to See the Real Jesus: Breaking Through the Barriers of Belief

There are two biblical characters I’ve always felt particularly close to—Nicodemus and Zacchaeus. Both of them longed to see Jesus.  

Nicodemus yearned to see Jesus. Yet, he could not do so openly in daylight. As a prominent leader, he feared the scrutiny—the questions, the accusations, even threats to his life. But his desire was so overwhelming that he waited until nightfall, when shadows concealed his visit, and finally stood before the One he sought.  

Zacchaeus, too, burned with a desperate need to see Jesus. His small stature made it impossible to peer over the crowds. But his hunger for encounter drove him to climb a sycamore tree, defying dignity for a single glimpse of the passing Teacher.  

For both of them, what they had about Jesus was merely hearsay. They heard many people saying many things about Jesus. They deeply longed to see, hear, and truly know the reality of Jesus. Their intense longing overcame the obstacles.    

The reason I felt a connection with these two was simple—I, too, had a burning desire to truly know Jesus. From a young age, I had heard many things about Him from different people. Like them, I yearned to know the truth about Jesus.  

Today, we who wish to see Jesus as he truly is face a different challenge.  

We were raised on two millennia of doctrines: Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, born of a virgin, worker of miracles, crucified and resurrected, ascended to heaven, seated at the Father’s right hand. These beliefs are the bedrock of our faith, recited daily without question.  

Yet, paradoxically, these very convictions can become walls between us and the real Jesus.  

Some of the people who met Jesus in the flesh had similar beliefs. Some wondered if He was Elijah returned, or John the Baptist reborn. Others dared hope He was the promised Messiah. But Jesus never confirmed these assumptions. He knew that labels—even flattering ones—could distort understanding, that fixed ideas about Him would deafen ears to His true message about the Kingdom of God.  

The children who came to Him with their mothers saw without filters. They asked no questions of divinity or dogma; they simply knew love when they met it. Like them, we must shed the weight of centuries—the layers of interpretation, the doctrines that harden like stone—and seek Him with the clarity of a child’s trust.  

To see Jesus as He is, we must first unsee what we’ve been taught He should be. It is not easy. Two thousand years of tradition loom like a mountain. But if our hunger is fierce enough—if we are willing to climb trees, to come in secret, to let go of what we think we know—then we, too, will find Him.