Holy places

It has been fabulous cruising from Barcelona to Venice with family and newfound friends, but it is the city of Padua (our first stop after the cruise) which has been a thrill.

Apart from the charm of this compact and very walkable city, the opportunity to visit the tomb of a real life saint, one I count on quite often no less, was truly a highlight.

The Basilica of Saint Anthony was, first and foremost, incredibly beautiful with frescoes by Giotto. Then to kneel and pray before the tomb of Saint Anthony was an extremely moving experience for me. As I laid the petitions of my heart, together with those of my many friends before him, tears welled up in my eyes.

I am thankful that in the Catholic tradition we have many saints to intercede for us and to inspire us with their lives. It boggles my mind that I have been in such close proximity to the places where they lived and walked: Mallorca, the place where Blessed Junipero Serra grew up before he set sail for California, Corfu which Saint Spyridon saved from the Turks, Padua where Saint Anthony's remains lie and Siena where in the Basilica of San Domenico, Saint Catherine's incorruptible head resides.

Today I depart for Milan and hope to visit the Basilica where Saint Ambrose's body lies and maybe sit in a pew where Saint Augustine may have sat.

There are also nameless saints who lived and prayed in the many monasteries and churches I have visited. These are all places filled with holiness, as my friend B would say, strongholds of Christianity.

Although I have done the tourist thing and gasped in awe at the beauty of these places, my biggest lesson is this: I can choose to live like these holy men and women who lived centuries ago. I can make wherever I am a holy place. All I need to do is to love God as they did - to live and move and have my being in Him, as they did.

Their greatness comes from keeping their eyes on God and following wherever He led. I must follow suit, lest I remain a tourist who gawks and clicks and happily goes onto the next attraction, satisfied to have ticked another place off the bucket list.

Nature and beauty

Before I left for Europe, I went to see my SD and he told me two things I could look forward to were nature and beauty. The created beauty of buildings and art would be eye and soul candy.

I went a little overboard in trying to pack in the sights in Barcelona (my poor Mum), we leave later today on a cruise down the Mediterranean, but it has been worth it. We have feasted our eyes and palates, and even had the opportunity to enjoy the local fiesta in Poble Nou (hidden treasure principle strikes again for who knew the fiesta would be there last weekend).

However, the line of people snaking round the Sagrada Familia (tip: get online tickets) and on the way to Monserrat (tip: take the first train up and get in line first, or go with a private tour) made us both want to give up, but we persisted and it was worth it.

What impossibly beautiful churches to gather in to celebrate the Eucharist. If only I could've had that experience.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with my youngest brother who felt the money spent on ecclesial pomp was better spent elsewhere. He couldn't be further from the truth.

God created a world of beauty so that we can find Him in the sights, sounds and smells of the earth, sea and sky. Inspired by Him in nature, we, in turn, pay tribute by creating shapes and forms that speak of the majesty and the glory of God's handiwork.

Why else do we create: write, sing or paint what stirs our hearts, for is it not God who moves us, whether we are aware of it or not?

Thus, church buildings and all interior embellishments are attempts to glorify God as well as to give worshippers a wow experience of God.

The Sagrada Familia and the Santa Maria de Monserrat Basilica are indeed testaments to human efforts that accord God the appropriate respect and worship.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of the churches I have visited thus far, I felt a heightened sense of sadness over the recent destruction of Coptic churches in Egypt.

Yes it is true that people are what make up the church of God, but the buildings where we gather to worship are physical spaces marked by grace, holy ground, not merely buildings of historical or architectural worth.

They bring to mind what Keats wrote: Beauty is truth. Ecclesial beauty has a truth that is especially penetrating, for it is meant to move minds and hearts toward God.

I can never hope to reach the heights of creativity that Gaudi or the countless architects, artists and craftsmen had, but like those who have gone before me, I will never stop praising His holy name in all I do.

Hidden treasures

I am right now in Barcelona with my mother on our pre-cruise vacation. We booked this cruise a year ago and it is finally happening. But because I have been preoccupied lately, I did not plan our trip well.

As late as the evening of our departure did I discover that I had forgotten to book our train tickets in Italy. Something prompted me at the last moment and I am most grateful. I believe that something was a whisper from the Holy Spirit.

So when I reflected on today's reading, what Saint Paul said to the Colossians struck a chord:

For in him are hidden all treasures of wisdom and knowledge.

Every time I have had to make a decision, be it which airline to fly, which city to visit or which hotel to book; when I would start to feel a little overwhelmed, I would pray, please Jesus, help me make the right decision.

My mother's comfort and enjoyment are main considerations. This is stressful, not because she is difficult to please, but because I want everything to be perfect for her. I can live with a crappy hotel, but I would not want Mummy to endure sub-standard accommodation, or awful anything for that matter.

Plus, this vacation was her idea, her desire. If you knew my mum, you would know that she is a woman of simple tastes and few wants so when she expresses a preference, I run with it. It is not often that I get to fulfil a wish of hers.

It has truly amazed me how in being led by the Spirit, I have been helped by friends, chance conversations with people, and, of course, the advice of many on the Internet.

The mystique of travel is the sense of adventure one has in walking into the unknown and making new discoveries along the way. Even getting lost or making mistakes can yield startling and delightful finds. Much like treasures not really looked for, yet found.

Our first day in Barcelona, yesterday, was a prime example of the hidden treasure principle. With no idea of what to do after checking in, I went with the recommendation of going to La Rambla, the main drag.

In our exertions wandering down the tree-lined boulevard, chance brought us to a church that was beautiful and, best of all, mass was about to start. Not only could I give thanks and continue to offer up this trip to God, but I could also celebrate the feast day of the Nativity of Mary with the whole church and pray for peace in Syria (as requested by Pope Francis). Oh, and the name of the church: Parroquia de la Mare de Deu de Betlem, Our Lady of Bethlehem. How's that for a God-incidence?

This was followed by yummy lunch, where we happened to sit next to a fellow Singaporean who advised me where to go eat in Venice. (Good local food is so much a part of the travel experience.) The restaurant we were in also happened to have free wifi so I could chat with my brothers, telling them we had arrived safely.

I look forward to the following days to see what treasures lie in store for us as we celebrate the beauty of nature and art. And I continue to rely on His wisdom and knowledge to show the way forth.

Grieving the loss

In my last entry, Making crooked paths straight I wrote about how we are created to be in relationship with others. The downside to loving people is we lose them from time to time. And the experience of loss can be devastating for grieving is an unpredictable process that can never be explained.

Who knows why one day you are holding everything together, while the next, you are in pieces, scattered all over the floor.

All it takes is a song, the sight of his mug, ever the slightest hint of association and you crumble into a weepy mess. It is impossible! You wonder how long you have to endure feeling so bad and why you actually feel so bad, especially if your relationship with this person was far from ideal.

A very dear friend of mine lost her husband to cancer recently and she has been having a really tough time, especially because she was the primary caregiver and saw him through the last agonizing days of his life.

When I am with her, I can only sit with her and feel her sorrow, send waves of unspoken empathy. Words of comfort are inadequate so I do not even bother to try. I can only attempt to make her laugh or smile. And, of course, I pray.

Time IS a healer so I can only pray that she will not immerse herself so deeply in grief that she stays frozen in it, or spirals down into depression. I also pray that God will continue to despatch angels her way to light up the darkness so she will not stumble and hurt herself too badly.

My hope is that she turns to Jesus in those unendurable moments and lets Him carry her burdens for His yoke is indeed easy and His burden light and it is in Him alone that we can find rest.

Although she will never "recover" from the loss completely (we never ever do), the scars she bears will strengthen her. She will find out eventually that she will not only survive this loss, but will actually be happy again. She will also be better able to appreciate the blessings of life and feel joy more keenly.

Because she bore witness to her marital vows and cared for a man who was difficult to love, to the very end; because she rose above her own fears and inadequacies to minister to him, while juggling her duties as mother; because she gave it her all to be compassionate and caring even though she was running on empty, she will experience reaping with shouts of joy... in time.

Meanwhile, she must hold fast to Jesus and walk through the valley of darkness, knowing that the Good Shepherd will lead her to greener pastures. Patience and perseverance are, thus, the order of the day, and lots of Kleenex.

What helped me grieve past the worst was reading somewhere that every tear you weep is not wasted, for every tear can be a prayer which God sees and hears, an offering of love that becomes a blessing for the departed, and those left behind.

 Tears are like angel's trumpets that cry out to the Lord in pain.

Making crooked paths straight

Today marks the 10th anniversary of my father's passing. Even though a decade has elapsed since the day he departed, it still seems like a recent happening.

His battle with cancer was, for me, a lifetime of learning conflated into eight intense and emotionally charged months that transformed me indelibly.

I began to see what were the things that were truly important in life and it was definitely not power, fame or money. Nor is it accomplishment, recognition or possessions. As the preacher in Ecclesiastes proclaims: Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Nothing in life lasts.

However, not a day goes by when I am not reminded of my father and I breathe out a soft, appreciative sigh of sadness. Some things do transcend time, like bonds of love - thank God for that.

Relationships are, therefore, of utmost importance to me and my energies are channelled accordingly toward them. First and foremost, the one I have with God, then the ones I was given at birth, and finally the ones I choose as an adult.

Last Sunday Father Arro said he would ask those who seek to be baptized their motivation in embracing Christianity. If it is to be saved, then it was unnecessary, for all men and women of good will would enter the kingdom of heaven, even without the rite of baptism.

However, what baptism does is it breathes life into a relationship with God. To be a son or daughter to a loving and merciful Father, who washes us clean of original sin and makes us feel like new is a wonderful thing. The Lord is a patient Father who beckons all of us unceasingly, and gives us second chances, no matter how badly we mess up in life.

Baptism is to be born again into a life filled with the sweet-smelling flowers of faith, hope and love despite the rank dankness of suffering we all experience on occasion.

We know that we are never alone, and that we are loved, dearly. In all things and situations, Jesus and God's Holy Spirit walk with us, giving us strength and encouragement, keeping us safe from gut-wrenching fears and doubts.

To be in relationship with God does not imply grim scrupulosity, or a forsaking of the pleasures of life. Rather, it is a bond of love that invites us to enter through the narrow door always (admittedly not an easy thing at times), where we leave behind our baggage of disordered desires and seek to see God face to face, naked and unadorned of the accoutrements of world. No posturing or braggadocio, just the simple joy of communion.

It is all about the quality of heart as Father Arro stressed. Is my heart humble and contrite? Is it open and receptive? Am I innocent and trusting like a child?

When we are in right and tight relationship with God, then we are able to reflect our baptismal badge of honour by loving others as He loves us.

We can be kind to those whom we dislike. We can be forgiving of those who hurt and anger us. We can be bearers of truth and light to the world, bringing justice and peace. We can be blessings to others to the extent we ourselves have been blessed. Our capacity to love becomes infinite.

We can also trace clearly where God makes straight our crooked paths. No matter how broken a relationship may be or how imperfect a love we have for others, it is often repaired and made perfect when we endeavour wholeheartedly to show His love to others.

Despite our dysfunctional relationship, my father and I were able to do just that because we each, in our own way, experienced the healing love of God in our individual lives, especially in those last eight months. And in the end, by attempting to love each other as Jesus loved us, we became the face of Christ to each other. Something I see only now,10 years later.

And that made our relationship a blessing that lives on not just today, but all the days of my life, and beyond. My father's life was not lived in vain and, God willing, neither will be mine.

NB: This entry began as a reflection of the readings of Lay Apostolate Sunday which I found rich in meaning, and I borrowed from heavily - Isaiah 66:18-21, Hebrews 12: 5-7, 11-13 and Luke 13:22-30.

Many stories

I actually attended the NDP (National Day Parade) last Friday afternoon and enjoyed it tremendously, queueing and all (it was fun to people-watch and see how the national flag colours of red and white were worn by many).

The theme this year was Many Stories...One Singapore and it highlighted the personal journeys of fellow Singaporeans and how we, collectively, form a society that makes us uniquely Singaporean.

While it was clearly an attempt to tug at the heartstrings and appeal to the younger generation, I loved the schmaltz. It could have been being part of a 26,000-strong crowd, or the fact that the older I get, the more I feel rooted, proud to call Singapore my home, for my heart is entrenched here.

Sure, the place is not perfect, and many complain about the high cost of living and criticize the government for its high-handed ways; or bemoan how singles are often penalized, especially when it comes to affordable housing... but I happen to think that Singaporeans tend to take for granted the many things we receive that would not be ours anywhere else.

Like the relative safety that allows women to walk alone at three a.m., unafraid of being accosted, while children enjoy hours of fun in the playground without adult supervision and at no risk other than that of a scraped knee or elbow.

There is also a sense of security that comes from having a far-sighted and stable government, whose efforts have enabled its citizens to benefit from a developed infrastructure with world-class transport, healthcare and judicial systems.

Then there is the racial and religious harmony. I like that I can practise my faith freely and openly, with no fear of repercussion or discrimination. I really like how my friends of differing religions enhance and deepen my own belief in God.

I am also grateful for the good education I received and my ability to appreciate the humanities both Western and Eastern. In spite of my sucky Mandarin, I love the Chinese classics as much as I do Shakespeare or Dickinson.

And I delight in the melting pot of cultures for the exposure that I received growing up in such an environment has left me socially adept in any cross-cultural setting, not to mention with an adventurous and sophisticated palate that relishes the weird but creative offerings of various ethnic cuisines.

Nothing beats the pungency and richness of Singlish that speaks volumes in a single phrase. Or the extraordinarily good hawker food that hits the shiok spot. Even kiasuism can be a virtue for it makes for boy scout preparedness, handy in times of emergency.

Although I deplore the often humourless and literal bent of civil servants, I have come to expect the clockwork-like efficiency the city hums, night and day.

The clean streets, pristine buildings and luxuriant foliage make Singapore a beautiful, very liveable, concrete jungle.  

Finally there are the people - my family first, friends, then the various communities I weave in and out in my work and social circles; the good, the bad and the ugly. The people I love and dislike the most live on this island.

My deepest losses, my highs, my worst nightmares and realized dreams have been lived here. I have resided in Singapore most of my life and have grown to love the place in all its imperfections and quirks.

Once I desired to get off this island. Now, I see it as home, the country where God has placed me, for His purposes, and where I can be His ears, voice, hands and feet.

A place where I can make a difference by listening to the many stories of the people who live here, and making them part of my story.

Desired result

After a month of waiting, I finally got the results of my Pilates exam last Thursday. I did well. I got my desired result and more.

I was elated, but at the same time, having waited so long, I was not as thrilled as I should be, and was a little blasé about the whole thing.

E reminded me that it was something to celebrate and she is right.

When I think back on how I felt as I went through the process of preparation, how impossibly high the mountain looked then, and how much I struggled every step of the way, it is a great personal achievement.

It not only serves as a reminder to me that I still have some grey matter left, that when I apply myself, I can actually do a fairly decent job, but it also highlights the faithfulness of God.

He granted the desire of my heart and blessed me abundantly for my diligence and perseverance.

He supplied hope when it was in short supply and inner peace when I was frazzled. I did not drown in depression because He was holding my hand and keeping my feet on the water's surface as I walked.

I suppose why I am not jumping for joy is due to the realization that a good grade is not everything. It is merely a tool to see where I am in terms of knowledge acquisition and retention, as well as being an external validator and job enabler, nothing more.

How well I teach still requires continual effort on my part to keep my skills honed and relevant.

It's like what my godson B said to me when I asked him last Saturday after his confirmation whether he felt Spirit-filled: Not yet.

A gift has been given, a milestone attained. However, we cannot afford to rest on our laurels. Instead, to make the gift or success even more valuable, we must use it well. We must seek to multiply the talents given (last Sunday's apt Gospel) instead of burying it in the ground, thereby killing it.

For B to be Spirit-filled, he must be Spirit-led. He must embrace the joys, sorrows and hardships of being Christian by following in Christ's footsteps on the narrow path. He must be a man of integrity, compassion and mercy who loves without counting the cost.

As for me, I, too, must continue to be led by God's Spirit, and ensure my talents are multiplied to the best of my ability.

Ultimately I desire doing God's will in my life so my hope at the end of my life is that I produce the desired result of good fruit, nourishing and delightful.

Cloud spotting

When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. In my case, when the false ceiling caves in, find a beautiful place to stay in and regroup.

I am currently in Malacca with my mother and uncle. We arrived yesterday at my parents' condo only to find that a leak in the en suite bathroom had caused the false ceiling to collapse. As this probably happened a couple of months ago, unbeknownst to us, there was mould growing on the walls and furniture. Not a pretty sight, nor smell.

We, however, managed to find a lovely restored old house, Cyclamen Cottage (its owners Cindy and Chris are lovely people), to stay in nearby, and despite the unwelcome mess that greeted our eyes, this trip has attained a certain sense of adventure that has vast appeal.

The "disaster" has forced us to be resourceful and decisive and today's reading on Moses and the Israelites following the cloud resonated with me. Especially in times like these, when change is thrust upon me, and issues spring up that require fairly immediate resolution, I find myself more attentive to God's movement in my life.

I begin to look for the cloud that is distinctively different from ordinary clouds, so that I might follow closely and go where He leads.

I listen more keenly to hear the words of wisdom that come out of others' mouths.

It is so easy to react and vent one's frustrations on others, to give in to confusion in the chaos and scream from the loss of control that ensues, but shouting never achieves much, other than one exercising one's lungs and raising one's blood pressure. Far better to turn to the Father and seek His help, which always comes, if one is open to being helped.

I attended a workshop by Father Ignatius Huan last weekend and he stressed the importance of contemplative prayer and praying with Scripture. To make time to rest in God's Word, and allowing it to transform me.

In attempting to be mindful of this, I can definitely see the graces in the day more clearly and feel my way around the uncomfortable situation with more fluidity. And it has not stopped me from enjoying myself and enjoying the friends and family we have been meeting up with.

Time waits for no man, so it is imperative I make lemonade today to celebrate the moment, instead of dwelling on the tartness of the lemon for even a single minute. Not even the haze that suddenly descended upon us this morning can mar the beauty of this day. Something I give thanks and praise for.

I like cloud spotting.

Songs my father taught me

If Dad were alive, he would be 81 today. Even though he has been gone for almost 10 years, what he taught me, in words and action, remain fresh and powerful. I'd like to remember him by sharing what he taught me, refrains he crooned as I was growing up:

*  If the truth hurts, too bad - accept it and learn to incorporate it into your life.

*  Honour your word and behave with integrity always.

*  A righteous person can walk with confidence and stand tall, with head held high.

*  Fear nothing and no one but God.

*  Family is everything so do everything you can for family.

*  Share what you have with others. Give generously for all you have comes from the Almighty.

*  Never despise someone who has less for we are all equals under the sun, regardless of sex, race or creed.

*  Money, status or power does not make me, or anyone else, for that matter, greater.

*  Honesty is the best policy so tell it like it is.

*  Do not gossip or speak ill of others.

*  Every voice has a story to relate, sorrows and joys to share. Make time to listen, then honour that person by speaking truth into his/her life.

*  Champion the underdog, fight for the rights of the oppressed and help the less fortunate.

*  Do the right thing always, even if it might cost you your life.

*  Give your best in all you do. Strive for perfection.

*  Play fair and play by the rules for the ends do not justify the means.

*  Manners matter big time, all the time. Be polite, considerate and respectful of others. Be punctual.
 
*  A lady must walk, act and talk like a lady, exuding grace and beauty wherever she goes.

*  A real man never hits a woman, or another man when he is down.

*  Fight to the very end! Never give up even if you fall. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and keep going.

*  In your darkest hour, remember, it, too, shall pass.

*  Uphold your heritage, learn how to hold and use chopsticks the right way.

*  Don't ever stop learning.

*  The family that dines frequently together, stays together. (And the food must be good. If it is sub-standard, don't eat it.)

Finally, in tribute to his sports-mad, soccer-crazy ways, something he was fond of saying which is a fitting metaphor for life, if you think about it...

*  The ball is round.

Love you and miss you, Daddy.

Family time

Last week a bunch of relatives came to visit and only one, my uncle, remains, with a few more weeks of vacation time.

It was a treat to see them all and it set me to thinking about family and how the family is a microcosm of community, a diverse group of people living together.

I have three brothers and it is never ceases to amaze me just how different we are as people in terms of lifestyle and beliefs. We should not get along but we do, in some weird and wonderful fashion.

Then we have parents who drive us crazy with their idiosyncrasies, while we, in turn, cause them innumerable headaches and heartache.

We also have naggy, often stubborn grandparents who can be doting and lovable. Not least we have an extended family of cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews in whom we see an array of personalities that irk, frustrate yet make us laugh in parts.

What was God thinking when He put me in this family of crazy people? This is a thought that has crossed many a mind I am sure.

That we are in the families we are in is no accident. Thus the way to sainthood must surely be to accept our relatives and love them unconditionally. Certainly oceans of patience, forbearance, compassion and forgiveness are needed, while a spark of divine help does not hurt either.

As the saying goes, we can choose our friends, but not our relatives. This does not mean we choose to have nothing to do with them. We can, of course, choose that, but if we truly seek spiritual maturity, then turning to our families is the shortest route to holiness. Try putting up with a difficult and demanding parent or a brat of a child and you will understand what I mean.

The sad thing is most of us choose the easy option of making our friends our family, while keeping a safe distance from our true families.

Sure, friends are important and vital for our emotional and spiritual well-being, but most friendships are not deep enough or altruistic enough to proffer a life-giving candour and honesty that may be necessary at times.

Like how we may need a kick in the pants when we wander off the path and it is often a family member who can deliver a home truth we don't want to hear. Friends, even well-meaning ones, mostly do not overstep the boundaries that families trample all over in good and bad ways.

When families fall short of healthy, life-giving love, we are called to rise above our familial circumstances and shine the light of God's love and mercy in our families. This means forgiving seventy times seven times, and more, even if you feel like murdering someone. No one said it was going to be a walk in the park.

I believe the call to mission begins first within our own families. Not the easiest thing to accomplish for as Jesus commented, a prophet will always be rejected in his own hometown. But, I reckon, it is the most rewarding for when we see people we love prosper and thrive, basking in the sunshine of God's abundant love, we rejoice with them, even as we enjoy the warmth of His love ourselves.

We are in the families we are in for a reason. If we take up the gauntlet of living with and loving our family through the differences, creating peace and harmony in our homes, then the world will indeed become a better place. World peace will no longer be unattainable then.

Make time for your family.  

Expressing faith

In Pope Francis's first encyclical Lumen Fidei*, the Pope stresses the importance of shared expressions of faith in the family for faith is first and foremost "born of an encounter with the living God who calls us and reveals His love" "in every age of life".

 

We are invited to see and hear Him in every relationship we have - "for every man and woman represents a blessing for me" - and to use our voices and our lives to proclaim the truth of His love to everyone as faith is meant "to find expression in words and to be proclaimed".

 

In my family, the transmission of faith was always left to others and we never talked about God in my home. Hence what I learned about God was what my catechism teachers taught me and while it was foundational, it lacked a personal sense of who God, Jesus, was.

 

I learnt "Jesus loves me, yes I know, for the Bible tells me so" but, so what? It was an arid, distant sort of love I experienced. And I was good because this was the way I should be, especially if I didn't want to go to hell.

 

The adults around me could not show me who Jesus was for we never talked about Him, and their relationship with Him was probably much like what I learned about in school, a respectful but superficial one with the forbidding, sometimes benign, transcendent God I could not touch.

 

As the Pope writes: Our culture has lost its sense of God's tangible presence and activity in our world. While I never doubted God's existence, I never saw Him around much either, just occasional glimpses.

 

It was only when I saw how God touched my father during his illness, and how He spoke to my family during that period that I realized just how real Jesus was. I began to see with the light of faith and what I saw transformed me.

 

The Spirit of love was palpable in the unusual gentleness of my father's temperament and in our familial solidarity in that time of crisis.

 

He sent angels to administer to us in the form of my Second Aunt who cooked special meals for my father, my eldest cousin who visited frequently, showering love and concern on my father, my missionary cousin who was a wise and comforting spiritual guide, the hospice doctors and nurses who would advise us medically when they visited, and strangers who strengthened him with prayer.

 

In inviting Jesus to be the centre of our lives, He became an intimate of the family and showed us just how much He loved us every single day.

 

Since then, I have learned to discern just how real and solid a presence Jesus is in my life, how much He loves me and how faithful He is to flaky me.

 

Whenever I stop to reflect on the goodness of God, I am always amazed. Jesus is with me in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, through thick and thin. He is truly "my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest" as WH Auden wrote.

 

In the last ten years exploring and studying the faith of my forefathers, I have found wondrous truths reside in Mother Church who is indeed the "storehouse of memory" and the "deposit of faith".

 

Therefore I strive to give voice and form to the truths I find daily in my "profession of faith, the celebration of the sacraments, the path of the ten commandments, and prayer".

 

We are called to love beyond fear, and beyond evil, to reach out and build bonds with others, to be as one, in body and spirit, for "If faith is not one, then it is not faith".

 

It will not be an easy journey for we will be tested and persecuted, we will experience suffering, but faith will always bring hope, and enable us to fathom "what makes human life precious and unique" and find our "place in the universe".

 

As Pope Francis writes:

 

Faith is no refuge for the fainthearted but something which enhances our lives. It makes us aware of a magnificent calling, the vocation of love. It assures us that this love is trustworthy and worth embracing, for it is based on God's faithfulness which is stronger than our every weakness.

 

Be brave. Express your faith by loving the others in your life. And don't forget to share it audibly and visibly with your family today.

 

* http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/francesco/encyclicals/documents/papa-francesco_20130629_enciclica-lumen-fidei_en.html

The gift of emptiness

E asked me how I felt yesterday, it being my birthday, and I was not able to give an answer. Post-exam exhaustion (thanks once again to all who have supported me through this period, the written exam went well, I think), plus a head cold, have left me feeling muddled and depleted.

Today I came up with an answer: Empty. While I am happy to have accomplished what I set out to these past 12 months, culminating in my exams, I feel empty, almost as if I have lost purpose in life. Yet I know this to be inaccurate for I know where I am heading and I already see new doors opening.

Perhaps it's just being in the liminal space, on the cusp of something new, which causes me to feel this way. There is the next mountain to conquer... so take a deep breath and start climbing.

Emptiness is not necessarily a bad thing, not unlike fear, for good or bad depends solely on our response.

Apart from my acute fear of failing, I have enjoyed this period of intense industry. I felt inspired and intellectually invigorated. I could cook and eat healthily (which always makes me feel good), and I got to spend more time with my mother who invariably makes me laugh. Studying hard was a novel and strangely edifying experience as well.

The word jubilee denotes celebration, a time of freedom and rest. Yesterday marked the official start of my “jubilee” year for I have a strong sense that the 12 months before me will be a very special time for me.

E advised that I take some time to bask in the glow of recently fulfilled desires, to sit and smell the fragrance of the good fruit I have produced, to taste and see that the Lord has been good to me. Thus empty is a suitable starting point: to rest in the emptiness and let the Lord fill me.

Gratitude, joy, inner peace, contentment, there are only accessible if I contemplate the moments, epiphanies and rhythms of my life. My ability to know what I should do this year hinges on the time I spend at the feet of Jesus, pondering in my heart, like Mother Mary, the mysteries in my life that are yet to unfold.

I know this to be true for having made a concerted effort to pray regularly these last few weeks has indeed given me strength and a rare grace under fire. What has sustained me most this difficult period was praying Saint Ignatius’s Suscipe daily, which is a prayer of kenosis, a self-emptying of one’s own will.

So emptiness could well be the best birthday present I receive this year.

God is in the detail

I managed to pass my Pilates practical exam yesterday and I am over the beautiful haze-enhanced moon (we have been having a haze problem in Southeast Asia). I was initially berating myself for forgetting a couple of things (unforgivable to me) but my mother put it into perspective for me with a simple Be satisfied! She was right, of course, given that I have been panicked and jittery this last month and practically had a meltdown early afternoon before my exam.

It's not that I cannot teach but having to remember exercise flowcharts are the worst thing on earth for the unstructured me who also happens to suffer from perimenopausal brain cloud.

How was I going to plan and teach a holistic programme specifically designed for a "client" I will meet for the first time, using these charts and also keep track of the requisite number of exercises I had to teach on seven pieces of equipment, using multiple props?

As recent as last Friday's practice session, I thought I was doomed. When I complained to J that the devil was in the detail, she corrected me by saying God is in the detail.

With that she reminded me that any task worth doing is one that requires single-minded devotion. It also highlighted to me how God has literally taken care of me these last weeks, down to the most minute detail.

First, I had enough work the previous month so that my skeletal work schedule this month did not adversely affect my bank account. Then He took care of my study schedule by providing me with time to study: clients just disappeared on vacation and for any number of reasons, all of which I happily accepted.

He found me a study mate, sent me a bunch of cheerleaders and even provided a place to practise in peace. Then He sent me personal messages of encouragement through the Divine Office and the lectionary daily.

Most significant has been my ability not to give in to a real and deep despair and give up completely. I have been assailed with immense fear every day for the last month. A spirit of overpowering negativity has shrouded this entire endeavour.

However, I have refused to give in to it and have instead left it all on the Lord's doorstep as I pressed on grimly with the task at hand. I prayed through the self-doubt, the apprehension, and even the nightmares that portended failure.

I have been buoyed by the prayers of all my friends and relatives as I shamelessly asked them all to pray for me. I thank all of them for every prayer has helped me through this crazy period.

That my memory kicked in at the right times is nothing short of miraculous. That my programming was sound (earning praise even) is due in no small part to the wisdom of the Spirit (I wisely put thought into devising one after mass on Sunday).

I feel like a classic case of biblical hyperbole where women beyond childbearing years were blessed with children as Elizabeth who bore Saint John the Baptist was, whose Nativity we incidentally celebrated yesterday.

The reading from Jeremiah was especially for me:

In the days of King Josiah, the word of the LORD came to me, saying:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
before you were born I dedicated you,
a prophet to the nations I appointed you.

“Ah, Lord GOD!” I said,
“I know not how to speak; I am too young.”
But the LORD answered me,
Say not, “I am too young.”
To whomever I send you, you shall go;
whatever I command you, you shall speak.
Have no fear before them,
because I am with you to deliver you, says the LORD.

Then the LORD extended his hand and touched my mouth, saying,

See, I place my words in your mouth!

That was, for me, a benediction and kept me from a massive pre-exam anxiety attack. There was so much adrenaline in my system that I developed a tension headache post-exam and could not sleep last night despite downing beer, that was how consumed by fear I was.

I now have my theory paper to sit for this coming Sunday and while it is another test of my memory, it is not as formidable as the practical. I will continue to do my part these remaining days and I want to praise God for His planning.

C'est vrai, le bon Dieu est dans le detail!

Loving in the now

Travelling on the train yesterday, I overheard a group of young teenaged boys talking about what they gave their fathers for Father’s Day and I was mildly amused.

"He likes coffee, so anything coffee-related is good."  "My dad likes chocolate so I got him some." "Mine likes to smoke so I got him cigarettes." Hmmm...

While I did go visit my father in the columbarium to wish him and thank him, and tell him I missed him, I don’t believe in just setting aside one day in the year to be grateful to my parents, for it should be an everyday affair when it comes to honouring and showing gratitude to parents, living and deceased.

I am a student of the ordinary, of quotidian rhythms that can get tiresome for it is easy to impress with the big gestures: spend lavishly in gift-giving and go out to a fancy restaurant for a meal.

What is not so easy is to give time and constant effort to caring for loved ones, especially when so many other things seem more important.

Saint Paul said this to the Corinthians:

Behold, now is a very acceptable time
behold, now is the day of salvation.
We cause no one to stumble in anything,
in order that no fault may be found with our ministry;
on the contrary, in everything we commend ourselves
as ministers of God, through much endurance,
in afflictions, hardships, constraints,
beatings, imprisonments, riots,
labors, vigils, fasts;
by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness,
in the Holy Spirit, in unfeigned love, in truthful speech,
in the power of God;
with weapons of righteousness at the right and at the left;
through glory and dishonor, insult and praise.

Based on the above advice, living in the here and now is paramount: to live purely, wisely, patiently and kindly in the present, regardless of one’s circumstances.

Saint Thérèse  of Lisieux believed in The Little Way, in showing commitment even in the most mundane of tasks, and acting lovingly to all she met on a daily basis (even those who were not loving towards her). She was a humble, young woman who understood how to live out the now with an attentive mindfulness of God’s abundant love.  

In a day, there are many opportunities to show those around us that we care, especially our parents who are often forgotten when more pressing matters require our immediate attention.  

Now that Father’s Day and Mother’s Day have passed, let us not forget that every day can be a day for thanking our parents in little ways that can mean a lot.

Do it now.  

Change for the good

I was gifted this morning with a dream that was so real that upon waking, I had to ask myself if she were still alive for it felt as if she was. The she is my late paternal grandmother, a woman who was an integral part of my formative years.

Mama was a woman who was at once charming, loving and slightly poisonous. She could be the most giving and nurturing person, a genuinely good woman, but her philosophy of divide and conquer brought a spirit of disunity into the family.

I was fortunate I was mostly able to sieve out the lies and half truths from the truths and navigate my way safely through her minefield of gibes, taunts and manipulative manoeuvrings.

Despite her flaws, deep as they were, I am proud and glad that she was my grandmother, for from her, I learned how to be nurturing, generous, kind, strong, courageous, loyal, practical, pragmatic and capable. I also learned to cook from her, and to appreciate what good food is (in my dream, we were eating a delicious lunch together).

Conversely, other lessons I drew from her include decisions I made at an early age not to be manipulative, mean and a total bxxxx for I hated it when she exhibited less than sterling qualities.

Unlike soap operas, there are no true archetypes in real life. We are a mix of good and bad, capable of being villainous and heroic at the same time.

As A said to me last Sunday, "Jesus still has a lot to work in me." We will always be works in progress, but the question is whether we recognize our flaws and weaknesses and are motivated to do something positive with them.

If we want to see change, then we need to open ourselves to being corrected and moulded by Jesus. To be teachable requires receptivity and in order to receive, we must first ask. So an inner movement of the heart is necessary.

Perseverance is also needed for the first step to change is always hardest and we may be tempted to give up. We must be humble enough to lean on Jesus and constantly seek His counsel and comfort.

As the Prophet Isaiah enumerates, He is our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. He is definitely my go to guy.

I may sound a little simplistic in advocating that one turns to supernatural means to change in ways that psychologists may say are nigh impossible, but with God, all things are truly possible.

Having received His graces, all I can say is change, real change, can be a daily reality. As long as we will what is good and we submit that will to His will, nature and nurture are not insurmountable.

How else can you explain drug addicts* who can go cold turkey with no withdrawal symptoms and then turn their backs on a life of crime?

I feel good I could take Mama out like I did in the past this morning for I do miss her. Reflecting further on my dream, I am reminded that in life, there is no turning back, and although I may be as flawed as Mama was, I can take where I come from and transform the mix that is uniquely me into something more good than bad (with a little help, of course).

* Read Jackie Pullinger's amazing story in Chasing the Dragon.

Editing the past

While searching for an important document, I stumbled across a package of love letters and keepsakes from a past relationship. Two things surprised me. One was the powerful surge of emotion that flooded me such that my heart literally ached for the past, the me and him in happier times.

The other was that I had forgotten how meticulously I had documented the progress of the relationship, through journalling and our correspondence through the years. Being sentimental to the nth degree, I had saved everything.

The ginger flower he picked and tucked into my hair, the perfect pine cone we found on a forest walk together, the fun drawings we created one night at dinner, silly little things that meant a great deal to me then, linked as they were to memories of tender moments in time. 

I cannot deny feeling a little bereft, and yet, I have no regrets walking away from something that was no longer working as both of us wanted different things in life. I wanted marriage and he, ultimately, did not. It was the wisest choice and yet the wisest choice is often never the easiest choice.

We are still friends with much affection for each other for in our walk to discover if marriage was for us, I had sought to do what God willed, so when it became clear that this was not the man chosen by God for me, it was a no-brainer to say goodbye. Extremely painful, but it was all very civilized.

Marriage is something I wonder about academically from time to time but as today’s reflection by Don Schwager pointed out, the marriage decision is not something we should take into our own hands. Rather we should “seek the kingdom of God rather than a mate”, we should “seek to spend ourselves in His service and in trust allow Him to bring our future spouse into our lives in His time."

This is something I believe in wholeheartedly hence I am grateful that I am not beset with fears of being single the rest of my life. Neither do I seek out the company of men in desperation, and try to be someone I am not in order to get me a man.

Of course there are times it would be real nice to be cuddled by a pair of masculine arms, but I do not want for love, or laughter, or joy, in my current state of life.

Plus there are much worse things than being single even if the world decries chaste singlehood as unnatural and tragic.

Better single than stuck in an abusive or co-dependent relationship. Better chaste than riddled with an incurable sexually transmitted disease. Better alone than lonely or bored in a relationship.  

As for the past, it is time for me to let it go completely. I am no longer that needy, scared and confused woman who did not know exactly what she wanted in life. I have Jesus to thank for that and I am ever grateful. 

 

 

Corpus Christi musings

I am encouraged that we had a global Holy Hour of prayer today to celebrate the Feast of Corpus Christi, although I was too tired to join in. We could all do with more prayer, especially for our youth.

In a brief chat this evening with one of my godsons, it is clear that he is less than enchanted with Catholicism. And in a recent conversation with one of the junior lectors in my parish, she questioned why the Church was so unaccepting of homosexuals when the new commandment given to us by Jesus is to love others. (I had to go into my love the sinner, hate the act spiel.)

Where and how do I begin to explain to young people these very questions I asked myself when I was their age? Even as I attempted to respond to their questions, I could only end by inviting them to discover the truths for themselves, as I have done so, and to pray that they will not be satisfied with superficial answers as they each seek for truth in their young lives.

One of the news stories I found alarming last week was the one of a 25 year old father who stuck his six week old daughter into a freezer for an hour so that he could sleep, leaving her to freeze for an hour with a broken arm and leg.

What was frightening was not just the act itself, but that he did not think he did anything wrong at all. She would not stop crying and he was tired. Was it that he could not see anything inherently wrong in that act, or was it just a case of not being able to admit to an enormous mistake?

It is hard for young people who are weaned on the dogma of moral relativism to reconcile the absolutes of Church dogma, especially when it goes head to head with what is perceived as personal freedom in society today with regards to issues like premarital sex, contraception, abortion, divorce homosexuality, same sex marriage and surrogate pregnancy.

All that the Church teaches about these issues goes back to one fundamental truth that teaches respect for the dignity of every human person based on natural law. Unfortunately the truth about the dignity of the human person is often obscured by the pursuit of personal happiness that breeds behaviour that is more self-serving than giving.

Therefore the truth does not seem very appetizing or palatable. In fact, objective truth can be hard and unyielding. But if one persists in trying to understand it, instead of just walking away, its inner beauty and wisdom will be revealed. It takes a consistent commitment to the truth over time, and our own lived experiences to unfold.

But when we choose to subjectify and rationalize truth that it is not difficult to arrive at truths the young father in Tacoma, Washington did: his personal comfort was of utmost importance and therefore justified an act of cruelty.

Perhaps he did not intend to leave his baby in there for an hour, perhaps he only wanted to punish her bad behaviour for a moment, but no matter how you cut it, the objective truth is that one does not treat an infant in such a selfish and thoughtless manner.

In his homily celebrating Corpus Christi, Pope Francis spoke about a solidarity that comes from trusting the Lord with our humble abilities by sharing and giving them to others, for it is only if we go beyond ourselves will we experience the miracle of multiplication of the five loaves and two fish in our lives, "that our lives will be fecund, will bear fruit". He reminded us:

Jesus speaks in silence in the mystery of the Eucharist and each time reminds us that following him means coming out of ourselves and making our life not our own, but a gift to him and to the others...The Eucharist is the sacrament of communion, which brings us out from individualism to live together our journey in His footsteps, our faith in Him.

So when we avail ourselves of this sacrament of communion, we will experience "the “solidarity of God” with man, a solidarity that never runs out, a solidarity that never ceases to amaze us". He added:

The Lord in the Eucharist makes us follow His path, that of service, of sharing, of giving – and what little we have, what little we are, if shared, becomes wealth, because the power of God, which is that of love, descends into our poverty to transform it.

As I celebrate the truth and beauty of God's love, I give thanks for the breaking of Christ's body as bread for me today. May this truth of His self-giving love touch the world and touch the hearts of the young people around me. I can only pray that it does.

Discipleship, communion and sharing. Let us pray that participation in the Eucharist move us always to follow the Lord every day, to be instruments of communion, to share with Him and with our neighbor who we are. Then our lives will be truly fruitful. Amen.