In Buddhist-majority Thailand, where Christians make up less than 1% of the population, a Catholic writer is evangelizing in an unexpected way — through stories that speak to the heart and transcend religious boundaries.
Narongrit Yongjindarat, a national award-winning writer known by his pen name Pagarung Rit, has quietly emerged as a distinctive voice in Thailand’s literary and digital landscape. His weekly spiritual reflections, widely shared on social media, have become a source of comfort and inspiration — not only for Catholics, but also for Buddhists, seekers, and skeptics.
“It’s like listening to a homily,” one reader remarked. “But even more personal — it feels like God is speaking through a friend.”
Writing faith in a secular language
Unlike most religious writers who speak primarily to fellow believers, Pagarung Rit reaches across faith lines through storytelling that is deeply human — warm, authentic, and emotionally resonant. Drawing from his own life, particularly his years studying and working in California, his reflections explore universal themes: love, loss, forgiveness, hope, and healing.
From a chance encounter on a bus to a tale of a struggling student walking miles to work each day, or the kindness of a compassionate aircrew, each narrative offers quiet glimpses into the heart of the Gospel — often without naming it directly.
“He doesn’t preach,” said one teacher. “He shares. And in that sharing, people discover faith for themselves.”
A book that found its way into Thai classrooms
Pagarung Rit’s most recent book, The Shop Sells Everything Lost, has captured the imagination of Thai readers — especially the youth. Released just ahead of the new academic year, schools across the country have begun distributing the novel to students and parents during the traditional Wai Kru ceremony, a rite where students honor their teachers.
The novel, a fantasy tale meant to be read jointly by parents and children, tells of a mysterious shop invisible to ordinary eyes — seen only by those who are missing something in life. The story offers a profound insight: it is not only children who lose things, but adults who gradually lose parts of themselves — kindness, joy, purpose — as they grow older.
To “buy back” what’s lost, the shop requires not money but acts of love.
A sixth-grade teacher shared how one student asked to borrow the book. “He sat right in front of my desk and read the first chapter. The next day, he came back asking to read Chapter Two. His eyes were lit up. He had found something in the story — maybe even something in himself.”
Moments of grace
But Pagarung Rit doesn’t limit himself to fiction. His reflections, especially those shared during liturgical seasons, often move readers to tears. A recent post for Pentecost Sunday struck a particularly deep chord.
“After work, I would stop by Good Shepherd Parish for evening Mass. One evening, I saw a young boy pushing a man in a wheelchair. His hands were shaking. He looked like he had been crying.
Something stirred in me. I felt a strong inner push to pray for them. But I was hesitant, even embarrassed. Still, the restlessness inside wouldn’t leave me.
As they passed by again, I finally stood up and asked if I could pray for the man. The boy whispered something to him, and he nodded. I placed my hand above his head and prayed.
A few weeks later, I saw them again. The man was no longer in a wheelchair. His hands still trembled a little, but he was walking.
He told me that the day I prayed for him was the darkest, most hopeless day of his life. He was scheduled for major surgery the next morning. He said, ‘That prayer gave me courage. I didn’t feel alone anymore.’”
Reflecting on that memory, Pagarung Rit wrote:
“Today’s Gospel as a whole emphasizes our faith and our need to act on God’s Word. He does not require us to act on our faith with great love, but rather, He sees the small efforts of kindness and love we make in His name. It is our duty to spread and act on His Word in our daily lives, even through simple gestures of love not only for Him but for others in our community.”
Whispers of God in a noisy world
What sets Pagarung Rit apart, readers say, is not his theology but his empathy. He does not attempt to convert through debate or doctrine. Rather, he invites readers to sit with their questions, reflect on their wounds, and rediscover what it means to love — and to be loved.
“He doesn’t tell us what to believe,” one reader said. “He reminds us why believing still matters.”
In a time when attention spans are short and digital noise is constant, Pagarung Rit offers something rare — quiet moments of grace through the written word. His stories do not shout; they whisper. Yet in that whisper, many hear the voice of God.
And in a land where the Gospel often feels like a foreign import, he has found a native language for faith: the language of storytelling, compassion, and hope.
As his own story suggests, the shop of life accepts no currency — only love. And in every paragraph he pens, love remains the only price worth paying.
