Take home lessons

Today is the last day of my vacation. While a tiny part of me does not want it to end and wishes I could live here (I really love Hawaii), most of me is looking forward to going home.

This, here, is not real life. It is more like a beautiful dream, to be savoured for all the wonderful experiences I have been gifted with, but nonetheless, a dream. Fleeting, perhaps prophetic, but it is only by waking up from my dream can I fully participate in life.

My family, my friends, my work, my ministry, all these exist back home in Singapore. I can make a difference at home. I matter most to people back home. Singapore is where my mission fields lie right now, so homeward bound.

P suggested I go round-island on one last jaunt today, but I prefer to spend the day in solitude and minimal activity, to say goodbye by remembering what I have been given on this trip and to dwell on what gems I take home with me.

The natural beauty - from the crystalline azure waters, to the lush, emerald volcanic ridges on the windward side reaching into the brilliant blue skies - has assaulted my senses, making me realize that I need to do more in terms of stewardship.

To help preserve nature and do more in terms of going green. This was what the ancient Hawaiians embodied, and this love and respect for the land still rings loud and  true today.

Thank you Kumu Sam Ohu Gon III for the deeply spiritual Huli Kauwela that marked the changing of the seasons, and for showing me how one lives and breathes passion and commitment.

In keeping with loving the earth, I can also do more to honour the dignity of others, especially the lepers of today, people who are persecuted, rejected or forgotten by others. On a more personal level, people whom I avoid or find hard to love, I should do more to befriend them, making time for them. I draw inspiration from Saint Damien and Saint Marianne of Moloka'i who loved with such supernatural compassion and heart.

What struck me while reading the stories of those who were sent to Moloka'i in the Damien and Marianne of Moloka'i Heritage Center was the Hawaiian concept of 'ohana, family. How strong the bonds were between husband and wife, parents and their children, and how they did everything possible to be together, sacrificing much, and how heartbroken they were when separated. Although I love and treasure my family ties, I can see I can always do better in terms of nurturing those relationships. I have to admit I have let the busyness of life be my excuse quite frequently.

Finally, the Gospel readings on the Good Shepherd this week have given me a renewed sense of mission and brought into focus what the fifth decade of life holds for me. It certainly pays to bring Jesus on vacation for He reveals such delightful gifts each day, and shows me how much He loves me in extremely creative and numerous ways.

The sense of freedom I have embraced these last two weeks is one I bring home with me to take up the tasks and responsibilities of my vocation, my life. As Jesus said in John 10:11-18:

This is why the Father loves me,
because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.
No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own.
I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again.
This command I have received from my Father.

My brief sojourn in Hawaii can best be summed up in one thought: When I choose to love in Christ's Spirit, then I will be given the power to love unreservedly and unconditionally, healing and liberating not just others, but myself, in the process. Freedom rules.

Call to sainthood

Saint Damien of Molokai is known as the leper priest and he was the first priest to volunteer to minister to the lepers who were sent to live in quarantine on the island of Moloka'i.

The then Father Damien arrived in Kalaupapa on May 10, 1873 and stayed, bringing order and hope to the lepers abandoned there to fend for themselves until he himself contracted leprosy and died at the age of 49 in 1889.

At the time, not many people understood leprosy or Hansen's disease and going there was a death sentence for leprosy was thought to be highly contagious and incurable. No one got to leave.

Father Damien is a saint that speaks to me for several reasons. First, he was not the one chosen to go to Hawaii. But because his biological brother who was already an ordained priest fell ill, Brother Damien asked to take his place and his petition was granted.

He arrived in Honolulu in 1864 from Belgium at age 24 and two months later, was ordained on May 21 at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Peace. It was clear that this was the land God had called him to carry out his mission.

Father Damien was tough, both mentally and physically, and was unafraid of hard work. He not only visited and administered to the sick, but lay pipes for water, rebuilt damaged huts, dug roads and graves, and built coffins. He also helped establish social and moral order in a society that was lawless and degenerate. He loved the rejected and unwanted, and was loved in return.

Far from perfect, Father Damien was stubborn, forceful and opinionated. His superiors and confreres found him difficult to work with. Yet when he contracted leprosy himself, he refused to rest but redoubled his efforts in community projects such as building homes and orphanages.

I am thrilled I got to celebrate his feast day and touch his relic in the Cathedral where he was ordained this past Saturday. When a Christian friend implied she did not quite understand why we Catholics made such a big deal of saints for we are all called to be saints, I replied I am glad I had the communion of saints to draw inspiration from, to emulate and to call upon to intercede.

Saints help me see possibilities when I am myopic. Saints encourage me to walk with single-minded focus (on God alone), even when confused and surrounded by darkness. Saints move me to develop my own unique charisms and spirituality.

And saints like Saint Damien tell me I can be the flawed personality I am and still bring our Creator pleasure by seeking to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength in the lepers of today. Even in hellish circumstances, one can invoke heaven on this earth.

There will be sacrifices to be made, and the costs will be high, but with the help of my saintly brothers and sisters, those who have gone before me, all things are possible, even my bid for holiness and sainthood.

Saint Damien, pray for me.

Aloha

No one said saying goodbye is easy,

But does it have to be so royally tough?

Even the skies are in mourning, weeping,

The Blue Marble Tree seeds wrinkled and rough.

It is a fact. We will all die one day.

Sooner or later, in much the same way.

I cannot arrest what disease will claim,

Or deny the sordid decay of age. 

Yet no one fasts when the groom is present,

So rejoice and be glad, in life engage.

Hold the moment lightly in gratitude 

Let the truths surface, made buoyant in prayer,

Forgive all hurts with a mother's soft laugh

There will be time for tears when he's not there.

Wayfinding

Yesterday I visited the Bishop Museum and watched Wayfinders: Waves, Winds and Stars. I was completely blown away.

The ancient Polynesians explored the oceans in search of new lands navigating using only the stars, sun, moon, winds, ocean swells and sea birds. This was how the first Polynesians travelled thousands of miles to the Hawaiian islands.

This ancient way of navigation was almost lost in Hawaii until in 1976 when the Hōkūle‘a*, a replica of an ancient double-hulled voyaging canoe, set sail from Hawaii to Tahiti, relying only on ancient Polynesian navigation techniques.

Watching the documentary, I was awed at the ability of humans to figure out the night skies, using it as a navigational tool, and their intrepid spirit in setting sail for a land they may not find, thereby perishing in the process.

Gazing at the stars in the planetarium ceiling, I was struck by what a great metaphor for life wayfinding is.

In order to become a wayfinder, one needed to study and memorize a minimum of 200 stars, know where the sun and moon rose and set during the year, as well as understand the swells and currents of the ocean.

Wayfinding is hard work, for it is only in the darkness of night that one navigated best so one must stay awake through the night.

Mastery. Watchfulness. Courage. A developed sensitivity to the elements. All these are requisite for successful sea navigation without modern instrumentation, and for life itself.

If we acknowledge God as the Creator and Almighty, then only by working hard to establish and maintain an intimate relationship with Christ will we be able to understand what are the plans God has mapped out for each of us and thus to be able to follow our bliss.

We need to study our faith and ourselves in order to master our shortcomings; grow in virtue. We cannot afford to slacken. We must stay awake by praying unceasingly.

If we do all these things, then we are better able to know where we should be heading to the point where making the right decision becomes intuitive, and making the better choice becomes second nature.

A wayfinder has a healthy respect and love for the natural world and others. A wayfinder finds ways to connect people and places, shrinking worlds and celebrating differences. A wayfinder does not fear or despair in the dark but discerns meaning in the distant light and uses it to great advantage.

When I grow up I want to be a wayfinder.

* The Hōkūle‘a and Hikianalia will leave Honolulu on May 17 on a worldwide voyage that will span four years. To follow the progress of the voyage, go to www.hokulea.com. 

Better witnessing

I am now in Hawaii for an unplanned but much desired break. It has been wonderful to just do whatever I want to do with no thought for work or my quotidian responsibilities. To focus on my wants and needs and fulfil them accordingly. A dose of hedonism is always good for the soul.

The best part of my trip thus far, having arrived just last Thursday, has been the ability to devote more time to prayer: to go for daily mass and say the rosary daily, May being the Marian month. This has enabled me to enter the season of Easter even more fully, with joy and gratitude. I am grateful for the blessings each day brings and I am able to receive the gifts I am given with much pleasure.

From watching the excellent in-flight movie, The Book Thief, to participating in the Huli Kauwela outside the Waikiki Aquarium (every May 2 except leap years when it's on May 1). From meeting up with old friends, to island music and spam overload (ate spam musubi and spam loco moco) at the Spam Jam yesterday.

I look forward to the unfolding days with eagerness. Will mosey over to the Hawaii Book and Music Festival later this afternoon and catch the Merrie Monarch winners doing their thang.

These past weeks of Easter have brought into focus what it means to be witness. Plus, the recent canonizations of Popes John XXIII and John Paul II last Sunday have inspired me to think more about how I wish to live the rest of my life.

I wish to witness by living more joyously, enriched by and enriching others in the interweaving of relationships and my faith, gifts and talents. To be broken as bread and shared out as food to many, just as Jesus was, and is, every single day in the Eucharist.

To live joyously is to live out my passions, my beliefs with every breath I take. In everything I do, to give the best of myself and my time, and I am not just talking about work or what I like to do here. Excellence, discipline, perseverance and sincerity are hallmarks of passion. Of course, on my own strengths I will fail for I have a tendency to give up and give in to pessimism easily. The good news is I do not have to do all this on my own.

The other key to living joyously is to forgive, not just real but imagined hurts as well (I have so many of these born of my neuroses). One of the upsides of growing older is less energy to hold onto anger. To let the small stuff slide off my back. But there are some big daddys that lurk within and those I attack with the help of the Almighty.

Finally to live joyously, as can be seen in the Acts of the Apostles, is to spread the Good News far and wide. To help the poor, imprisoned, sick, lame and blind. To honour the dignity of the marginalized and suppressed; to fight for justice in a world greedy for power and money. To set wrongs right by living out the Spirit of love in wholesomeness and integrity.

I thank Jesus for the gift of Easter and I rely on Him to help me be a better witness every day. For apart from Him, I am nothing and I can do nothing.

Spreading Easter's joy

This past Lent, I felt the weight of my sins crucifying me on the cross with Jesus. It has been a long, dreary haul and I could not wait for Easter to come.

The Easter Vigil celebration was that first burst of invigorating rain on the drought-hit landscape of my soul. The joy of the readings and psalms, coupled with the baptismal effervescence of newly minted neophytes gave me a lightness of heart. Despite my failings, I have not been condemned but redeemed.

As Saint Paul reminded the Romans, if I die with Christ then I will also resurrect with Him. Sin no longer has a hold on my life. That is not to say I will not sin again, but that I am not enslaved by sin (unless I choose to be). I can come alive to God in Christ Jesus. The new life of baptism is always within my grasp.

So when I fail, I should not let it defeat me. I can repent by not repeating my mistake again. I can resolve to become a better person by noting my weaknesses and not giving in to them. And when I am stuck, I can turn to Jesus and seek His help. In turn, He will send people and opportunities my way to help whip me into shape. I just need to be open to His Spirit of newness in everyone I meet and everything I do.  

As the words of the hymn we sang on Saturday night go:

Take, O take me as I am, summon out what I shall be,
Set your seal upon my heart and live in me.

Father Vaz reminded those present that the fundamental message of Easter is mission. As believers of the resurrected Christ, we should embody the joy of Easter and be so empowered by the Good News that we expend all our energies in sharing it.

After all, isn't joy worth spreading? Much like love, joy does not bloom fully unless we give it away to others. So go spread some Easter joy.

Longing for good news with a heavy heart,

I turn and see him - the one who rocks my world!

How is it I did not recognize him earlier?

It must be my fears that blight my sight and muffle my hearing.

He quiets my misgivings and fills me with deep joy.

For his love for me gleams brightly in the wound on his side,

And the ones on his hands, his feet, and his crown.

Am I worth dying for? I hardly think so.

But he thinks otherwise, for that I thank God.

The impossible dream is mine to have and hold,

It can be yours, too, if you take the plunge.

The water's amazing, luxuriate in its life-giving force.  

Unmasking fear

We all wear a mask of civility to self-censor inappropriate behaviour and exercise impulse control. It is good and necessary, enabling us to be more socially adapted and competent as individuals. For example, much as we would like to throttle someone who is full on obnoxious or impossibly obtuse, we do our best to maintain a calm and polite exterior to get through an encounter without initiating a brawl.

The only danger is when the mask goes beyond civility and becomes a prison inside which we are miserable. When we cannot express our true feelings and we suppress them; when we hide especially the self-perceived ugly bits of who we are, always wearing a game face, there are consequences.

We have no freedom to be who we are, always trying hard to be someone, something else. We do not give ourselves permission to experience certain emotions, and when we do experience them, we get depressed, unable to handle the inner conflict. We get aggressive or we run away (the classic fight or flight). We get trapped within negative patterns of behaviours. We measure our self-worth by our accomplishments, thinking we will only be worthy of love if we perform well.

I suffer from the need to be perfect or the need to engineer a perfect world and this need is at odds with my emotional and spiritual growth. The "perfect" mask stifles me most when it comes to managing conflict for fear born of my legion of insecurities and the agonies of my puny self-esteem often invokes immature reactions from me. I find it extremely frustrating.

For this reason I am grateful for the gift of the people in my life with whom I can be myself. These are a small group of people who love me for who I am. With them I can be my unexpurgated, unsanitized self, knowing they will still care for me even when I am my ugliest. They give me the confidence and impetus to expand beyond myself. Chief among them is this man called Jesus Christ.

He is my go-to guy when I am bleeding heavily from the gaping wounds of my hurts, failures and losses, inconsolable from grief and regret. He knows exactly what to do to mend my fractured heart, restore my soul and bring me back to life. And to smile with me when I get it right.

Jesus is also my model for living with unmasked integrity. He could see, accept and love people for who they were, without judging them. Because of that, He could deliver truths in such a way that He transformed lives for the better. And He did it without fear of being rejected or reviled. Without pretence. His genuine love and respect for human dignity beats the plastic hypocrisy of political correctness hands down.

When we live as Jesus did, inspired only by love to reach out to others and bring the light and goodness of truth, then we will not be crippled by fears or masks that distort the beauty of our beings. We will be able to rise above our own inadequacies and sensitivities to become people who walk in freedom, unhampered by our lesser inclinations. We become less ego-centric and more Christ-centric, even in the face of difficulties.

Living with integrity may not necessarily be a cinch, or win prizes, demonstrated so aptly by the impending Passion of Christ, but the unity of thinking, feeling and acting with one accord makes for peace of mind and soul. Jesus made it through the worst night of His life with the help of His Father and faced death with grace.

I may not always like the people around me or the situations I find myself in, but I can display a similar strength of character. So rather than get discouraged, depressed or react childishly, there is a better way. I can pray to see the world through the eyes of Jesus and go beyond my own myopic fears and defensive masks.  

Living words

Uncle H just passed away early this week and I am greatly saddened. He was such a warm, gentle and generous man, always so hospitable when we visited Malacca.

I am glad that the last time I saw him, just about a year ago, I affirmed him that he would not be forgotten for he was loved. His sorrow was that he did not have children to carry out the rites that the living do for the dead to ease their sojourn in the afterlife. So when I assured him that I would remember him and pray for him, he was moved.

His death not only reminds me that life is transitory, it highlights as well the necessity of saying the things you want to say, instead of keeping it in your heart. When it comes to feelings, one should state even the obvious, rather than taking it for granted that the other person knows you love them.

F flew home on a surprise visit last weekend to join in the birthday celebration of her daughter-in-law. She believes that one must put effort into demonstrating love, and sometimes, a gesture that entails considerable sacrifice tells the other I love you and you are important to me. I could not agree with her more.

While I still find it difficult to speak words of affection, especially those three little words, I love you, to people whom I love, I am learning. Being Asian, I tend to be functional in how I show love. I do the housework. I cook. I take care of the bills. I try to be thoughtful, to take care of needs the other has not even realized she or he has. I note what the other likes and try to gift things that bring pleasure.

It is all well and good, but acts of service, giving gifts, a loving touch or spending quality time together are all not enough if the words of love are missing. Words of affirmation and love that have the power to bless someone profoundly are important. And while it is nice to speak and hear such words during special occasions or celebrations, an unexpected kind word on an ordinary day somehow raises the level of the day into a different stratosphere. The bonus in affirming others in this way is how a blessing meant for another actually rebounds as well, an echo effect of sorts.

Given the way I used my tongue to grievous effect last week, and how disappointed I was with myself, this week has taught me that I can get it blissfully right, especially when I disallow my own need to be perfect control me.

When I speak out of a place of pure sincerity and strength, unmarred by my own shadows, the light of God's love shines brightest, penetrating even the most hardened of hearts (especially my own).

Blessed John XXIII said:

"Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do."

As we move closer towards Holy Week, I am inspired to fast from hurtful, angry words and continue to fulfil my potential, hopes and dreams of becoming a woman who speaks the living truth, blessing others in both word and action.

Thank you Uncle H for the gift of your life and I will remember you by emulating your gracious and gentle ways as best I can. May eternal light shine upon you.

 

Blind to the signs

I woke up this morning from a hot flash and it finally clicked. I have been experiencing other signs of perimenopause but have largely ignored them and was instead severely appalled and disheartened by my recent behaviour (disproportionate anger is an unfortunate sign besides the hot flashes and other equally lovely symptoms).

I felt a sense of relief for I had been beating myself up this week for going off the deep end and having a go at people only to deeply regret my actions. I have been perpetually on edge and it does not take much to morph into the Incredible Hulk, leaving a swath of destruction in my wake.

While biology explains a lot of what is happening to me, and helps me deal with my guilt and shame, I am not giving in to it. I just need to count to 100 now instead of 10, and also be prepared to eat lots of humble pie when my impulse control is non-existent. Mostly I need to really look out for the signs and act constructively, instead of reacting negatively. Prayer helps tremendously, thank God.

Thus today's Gospel from John, chapter nine, came alive for me. How could the people around the blind man not recognize the sign of a miracle to the point they denied knowing the blind man who was their neighbour? What ridiculous lengths people go to in order to verify a miraculous sign, just because they do not accept the truth, that a humble carpenter's son could be a healer, a prophet, the Messiah.

Why do we keep praying for signs from God, only to turn our backs on the signs when they appear right in front of us? This is what happened to the Pharisees, and still happens to us, to me, today. Why do we desire to be good only to refuse to act with goodness just because it challenges our pride, our self-worth and our personal comfort level?

When we act contrary to the Spirit of love, we are spiritually blind. It doesn't matter even if we are right or justified in our actions. Being petty or churlishly small-minded is never right, no matter what the provocation. When we think we are better than others, that we have done our part, we are about to step off a precipice into sin and we don't even see the step into insubstantial air, until it is too late.

In today's second reading, Saint Paul said to the Ephesians:

You were once darkness,
but now you are light in the Lord.
Live as children of light,
for light produces every kind of goodness
and righteousness and truth.
Try to learn what is pleasing to the Lord.

I feel as if I have been darkness this last week, the darkness of my hormonal imbalance and the consequent darkness of my mean-spirited disposition and searing anger. The good news is today I see that I am not beyond redemption. I merely have to be open to the truth and acknowledge the Lord's sovereignty in my life.

Even though I may not always be willing to go where He beckons, I know it will be good for me if I see and comply, for He only wants what's best for me. And I do trust Him.

This is, for me, a season of great physiological change. I can choose to be oblivious to it and suffer the damaging consequences, sinking into a pit. Who cares whom I hurt? I am not in a good place myself so my bad behaviour can be excused. Alternatively, I can look at it as a curse. Or as a gift. I choose gift.

My fertility may be on the wane but this can be a season of generativity and fruitfulness for me. I just need to start by taking care of my body, even as I take care of my spiritual health. Instead of pain avoidance, I can be motivated by building up my inner strength and beauty; the beauty of my soul, my inner being and my ageing body.

Saint Catherine of Siena said: If you are what you should be, you will set the world on fire.

What I should be, I know. I just need to keep my gaze trained on Jesus so as to see the signs with clarity, and simply become. Then, hopefully, I may set the world on fire.

Lenten promise

Is it just me or do temptations sing sweet, seductive tunes that are hard to ignore during the Lenten season? I find myself like Saint Paul - extremely contrary.

When it comes to prayer time, I get distracted incredibly fast or I drag my feet. Even though when I actually go inward and stand before God, transformation does take place. My unwilling heart uncovers the hidden desire I had inside to seek God and let Him touch me and fill me with joy. I am then given the necessary nourishment to weather the vicissitudes of the days to come. It is all good. So ask me why I can't pray more readily or eagerly?

On days of fasting, food suddenly seems all the more appealing and my tummy rumbles louder than it does on days when I am too busy to eat (and by default, am fasting). I struggle to define what constitutes true fasting, putting all my energies into counting the number of grains of rice I eat and pondering whether eggs count as meat or not.

I even delight in the fact that I may be losing some weight - always a desired thing. Thus the spirit of the fast is so easily lost, as is the opportunity to unite my efforts with my brothers and sisters in the world who are starving by circumstance and not choice. 

It is tough to keep the wholesome, unadulterated flavour of my Lenten efforts authentic. The answer to maintaining authenticity, as we all know, is interiority. A desert experience. Father Raniero Cantalamessa writes in his first Lenten homily:

Inwardness is the way to an authentic life. There is so much talk today of authenticity and it is made the criterion of success or lack thereof in life. However, where is authenticity for a Christian? When is it that a person is truly himself? Only when he has God as his measure.

So what keeps me from being grounded and real? It is the d word. As Father C writes:

Today also, the whole effort of the devil is to divert man from the purpose for which he is in the world, which is to know, love and serve God in this life to enjoy him later in the next; to distract him. But Satan is astute; he does not appear as a person with horns and the smell of sulfur. It would be too easy to recognize him. He makes use of good things leading them to excess, absolutizing them and making them idols. Money is a good thing, as is pleasure, sex, eating, drinking. However, if they become the most important thing in life, they are no longer means but become destructive for the soul and often also for the body.

The presence of evil in the world is something we do face. Our inclination to concupiscence is alive and kicking. But because Christ conquered the devil, we have nothing to fear. I may struggle with temptation in my Lenten journey, but I can and will persist for I know Lent can be a season of great beauty and fulfilment.

Father C's homily is not just an invitation to sobriety**, but to go into the desert, as Jesus did. To go down into my own heart, to renew my contact with God, because “Truth dwells in the interior man.” Truth that is not only "the secret of happiness and of peace in this life" but is about love. 

What does one in love desire more than to be alone, in intimacy, with the person loved? God is in love with us and he wants us to be in love with him. Speaking of his people as of a bride, God says: “I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her” (Hosea 2:16). We know what the effect is of being in love: all things and all other persons withdraw, are placed in the background. There is a presence that fills everything and renders all the rest “secondary.” It does not isolate from others, rather it renders one more attentive and disposed to others. Oh if we men and women of the Church would discover how close to us, within our reach, is the happiness and the peace that we seek in this world!

So the desert is not a place of desolation but a place of living intimacy. Lent can be much more than deprivation or stern discipline, it can be a time of courtship and delight, of tender love. 

Jesus awaits us in the desert: let us not leave him alone during this time.

* http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/father-cantalamessa-s-1st-lent-homily-2014

** As defined by Father C, sobriety is to willingly deprive oneself from little and great comforts, of what is useless, and sometimes also damaging to one’s health. This fasting is solidarity with the poverty of so many.

Wholeheartedly vulnerable

Just these past few weeks, an act of callousness by someone I love made me feel heartsick, worthless and full of shame. This shame, underpinned by the belief that I was not worthy of being loved, flooded through me and slew my equilibrium. Briefly.

What got me out of the hole I had fallen into was the buoyant truth: I am deeply loved and deserving of such generous love. Plus, listening to Doctor Brené Brown's TED talks* on vulnerability and shame made me realize how far I have come in living with, what she termed, wholeheartedness.

In researching shame, Doctor Brown found that shame, which is the fear of disconnection and the belief that we are not worthy of love killed vulnerability, severely impacting our ability to connect with others and ultimately find purpose and meaning in life.

Shame is what hamstrings us from living life courageously, from “daring greatly”, and to live as we were created to as humans, with wholeheartedness.

She found that wholehearted people are people with a strong sense of worthiness or a strong sense of love and belonging, and who fully believed they were worthy of that love and belonging. They had:

COURAGE The courage to tell their stories with their whole hearts, unafraid of being imperfect.

COMPASSION First the compassion to be kind to themselves, then to others.

CONNECTION The ability of connecting with others with authenticity. They were themselves, instead of trying to be someone they should be.

VULNERABILITY Fully embraced vulnerability and it is this that makes them beautiful. 

The wholehearted people she interviewed spoke of vulnerability as necessary, albeit uncomfortable. Vulnerability may be at the core of shame, fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it is also the birthplace of joy, belonging, love, innovation, creativity and change.

She explains vulnerability as the willingness to say I love you first, the willingness to do something when there are no guarantees and the willingness to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. Doctor Brown also describes vulnerability as emotional risk, exposure and uncertainty.

You might say that does not sound prudent in the least and you would be right. However the alternatives are far worse.

Doctor Brown found that you cannot numb vulnerability without numbing other emotions such as joy, gratitude and happiness. In keeping out the "bad stuff" (vulnerability is widely perceived as weakness), we keep out the good stuff as well.

Numbing vulnerability has strongly contributed to the current American adult cohort as the one that is most in debt and prone to obesity and addiction, with an over-reliance on medication.

Other unhealthy coping mechanisms include a tendency to make the uncertain certain, where we insist we are right, leaving no room for discourse. We only know how to lay blame (Doctor Brown defines blame as a way to discharge pain and discomfort) and to judge.

Then there is also the way we attempt to perfect things, refusing to concede that we are imperfect beings, wired for struggle. Unable to recognize that we are worthy of love and belonging because of, and not in spite of, our flaws.

We pretend. We tell ourselves that what we do (the less than admirable stuff) does not impact others and we justify even our bad behaviour. All this we do in aid of hiding our vulnerability, and shame. Doctor Brown pointed out the high correlation between shame and depression, addiction, eating disorders, bullying, aggression, violence and suicide.

As Christians we are lucky for we have Jesus, who is our poster guy of wholehearted living. How else could He have connected with everyone He met: the woman at the well, Zacchaeus or Mary of Magdala?

Vulnerability may result in hurt, betrayal and a stomped-on heart from time to time, but I prefer it to a drugged-out existence or one where I live in a bubble, untouched by life, and dead for all intents and purposes.

Should I let you break my heart again?
I must be mental. Certifiable.
To confine myself into that straitjacket you call love
More like infantile promises without bite or substance.
Good going down but ever so toxic.
Making me sick. Destroying me.
You can break me once, even twice. Not anymore.

Should I let you rule my heart again?
I must be stupid. Or just plain slow.
It's not as if I am unacquainted with your fears
The ones you hide so well - especially from yourself.
Swept under the carpet of vacuous bonhomie,
A grinning idiot displays more honesty.
Spared of your perfidious cowardice, I am at peace.

Should I let you touch my heart again?
I must be foolish. Possibly Christ-like.
Loving Him has taught me not to count the costs.
To risk much while keeping my dignity intact
Daring greatly without fear of rejection.
If I remain connected to Him, we can perhaps connect,
And maybe you'll catch a glimpse of Him in me.

* Worth a listen or two: http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability and
http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_listening_to_shame

Woman

In praise of women the world over on this International Women's Day.

Created to bring life and beauty into the world,

Her gently curved smile and liquid eyes

Belie a will of tensile steel.

Strength of superheroes reside in her hands,

The hands that rock the cradle, cook and clean,

Conjuring a home out of scraps of nothingness,

Clothing it with inimitable feminine warmth.                

She works tirelessly to build a civilization of love

Blessing those around her like sunlight on rosebuds.

Generations to come have her to thank

For freedom was hard fought and costly as pearls.

Yet centuries of subjugation cannot defeat her,

For she is woman, tenaciously hope-filled,

A force of nature garbed simply in quiet faith.

In Christ's Spirit alone does she move and breathe,

Whether single or married she is certain

That love is the one thing that makes perfect sense,

Thus she makes choices that sparkle and shine

Like stars that guide the lone traveller at night.

She is your wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend,

Give thanks for her goodness that has no end.

LENgThening into poverty

In Pope Francis's Lenten message*, he writes about poverty and how God works by revealing Himself in the weakness and poverty of Christ, not worldly power and wealth. For Christ emptied himself so that he could be like us in all things. (Philippians 2:7)

The Pope goes on to explain just what that poverty is, that we, as people of faith should emulate:

Christ’s poverty is the greatest treasure of all: Jesus’ wealth is that of his boundless confidence in God the Father, his constant trust, his desire always and only to do the Father’s will and give glory to him. Jesus is rich in the same way as a child who feels loved and who loves its parents, without doubting their love and tenderness for an instant.

Through the voluntary act of giving up His will to the Father, Christ became the perfect conduit of God's love. He was, and is, our loving neighbour, just as the Good Samaritan was neighbour to the man left dead by the side of the road.

The question therefore begged: is my faith that strong that I can experience the compassion, tenderness and solidarity of Christ's love to the extent I can live out the wealth of true freedom, true salvation and true happiness? Or do I live out a very real kind of poverty, which is, as the Pope put it: not living as children of God and brothers and sisters of Christ?

If we believe, we are asked to share Christ's filial and fraternal Spirit in what we do to aid our neighbour and save the world. To love as He did.

In every time and place God continues to save mankind and the world through the poverty of Christ, who makes himself poor in the sacraments, in his word and in his Church, which is a people of the poor. God’s wealth passes not through our wealth, but invariably and exclusively through our personal and communal poverty, enlivened by the Spirit of Christ.

In imitation of our Master, we Christians are called to confront the poverty of our brothers and sisters, to touch it, to make it our own and to take practical steps to alleviate it.

Pope Francis goes on to make a distinction between poverty and destitution. Destitution is not the same as poverty: destitution is poverty without faith, without support, without hope. There are three types of destitution: material, moral and spiritual.

The Pope elaborates:

Material destitution is what is normally called poverty, and affects those living in conditions opposed to human dignity: those who lack basic rights and needs such as food, water, hygiene, work and the opportunity to develop and grow culturally.

Moral destitution consists in slavery to vice and sin. Or where people no longer see meaning in life or prospects for the future, a hopelessness triggered by unjust social conditions, by unemployment, and by lack of equal access to education and health care. In such cases, moral destitution can be considered impending suicide.

Spiritual destitution is what we experience when we turn away from God and reject his love. If we think we don’t need God who reaches out to us through Christ, because we believe we can make do on our own, we are headed for a fall. God alone can truly save and free us.

To act against material destitution we begin by recognizing Christ's face in the poor and outcast, and by loving and helping them. We seek to end violations of human dignity, discrimination and abuse.

To help the morally and spiritually destitute, we proclaim the liberating news that forgiveness for sins committed is possible, that God is greater than our sinfulness, that he freely loves us at all times and that we were made for communion and eternal life.

The Lord asks us to be joyous heralds of this message of mercy and hope! It is thrilling to experience the joy of spreading this good news, sharing the treasure entrusted to us, consoling broken hearts and offering hope to our brothers and sisters experiencing darkness. It means following and imitating Jesus, who sought out the poor and sinners as a shepherd lovingly seeks his lost sheep. In union with Jesus, we can courageously open up new paths of evangelization and human promotion.

As Pope Francis goes on to remind us: Lent is a fitting time for self-denial; we would do well to ask ourselves what we can give up in order to help and enrich others by our own poverty. Let us not forget that real poverty hurts: no self-denial is real without this dimension of penance. I distrust a charity that costs nothing and does not hurt.

At the same time, it serves us well to remember that Lent is not about constricting but lengthening, growing in 'this great season of grace'**.

Father Philip Endean writes: Lent is really about is opening ourselves to someone else, about stretching ourselves, so that we can receive the gift of new life coming from God alone.

In order for this to happen, we need to be in touch with what can transform us, what makes us confront new questions, what stretches our commitment and identity. It is that kind of focus that should characterise Lent. Where am I growing? Where are these questions in my life? Where am I being called to something deeper – something which, precisely as such, I cannot get my head round? What is my equivalent of the desert, of Jesus’s temptations? How can I enter into that place fully, freely, generously?

Let us not fall back on facile answers or standard Lenten practices but seek "to be creative, and develop practices that are less conventionally ‘penitential’". Put some real thought and elbow grease into what are worthy penitential practices.

God's divine purpose is for us to grow and never more so than in the season of Lent. Let us not forget we are, ultimately, an Easter people, and that Lent is a time for us "to be open to the one who calls light out of darkness, brings life out of death."

Make this Lent a time of stretching into poverty, Christ's poverty, and be light and salt to those around you.

* http://www.zenit.org/en/articles/pope-francis-lenten-message-2014
** http://www.thinkingfaith.org/articles/20140304_1.htm

Ways of the wise

I have a major flaw. I like to over-analyze situations and people. I can pick an event or person's behaviour to paper thin strips so I tend to be highly critical and judgemental, and therefore not very tolerant or open as a person.

I get uptight and impatient easily when those around me do not behave in a manner I deem appropriate or correct. And I catch myself grousing and whining a lot like a joyless drudge. The world is full of stupid people! Eeeks, so much for being a woman of joy.

So when I read James, chapter 3, verses 13-18 last Monday, it made me stop in my tracks. I pride myself on having a modicum of wisdom that aids me in making decisions and helping others, but am I always wise in a way that is pure, peaceable, gentle, compliant and full of mercy and good fruits, without inconstancy or insincerity? Hmmm, I cannot say yes with much conviction.

Saint James goes on to say there must be no bitter jealousy, selfish ambition boastfulness or falseness in wisdom. Otherwise, it is earthly, unspiritual, even demonic. Wisdom of this kind, he states, also gives birth to disorder and every foul practice, and is not from above.

These are indeed strong cautionary words. How often do my eyes turn the palest hint of green and I find myself saying something unkind about someone? Words of criticism and gossip that inflate my ego and are a form of boasting trip over my lips quite effortlessly. Do I always, absolutely, speak the truth, or is it merely my version of the truth?

Based on Saint James's definition of wisdom, one must know when to act and when to hold back; when to speak and what to say, and when to maintain silence. Above all, one speaks and acts with humility and gentleness if one has true wisdom. And yet, it is not advocating doormat-like or people-pleasing behaviour in our dealings with others.

As Mother Teresa put it: Do not expect your friend to be a perfect person but help your friend to become a perfect person. That's true friendship. Mother Teresa is talking about wisdom here. It takes great wisdom to perfect others, seeing as we ourselves are so imperfect. Thus such wisdom can only come from above.

Enter into dialogue that dispenses with the need to be right (check your ego at the door) and a genuine love and interest for the other. Instead of blurting out pearls of advice that may fall on deaf ears, listen with compassion and patience.

People need time and space to be themselves, to be comfortable expressing their own views, before they can, of their own accord, arrive at a conclusion that holds the incontrovertible truth.

Perfection needs time to simmer on the brazier of a faith-seeking understanding. As a friend, I can help by keeping the flame from going out, coaxing it to burn with a slow, sturdy intensity. This requires an assiduous touch and gentle nurturing. I will fall short often, I know, as I have in the past.

Although I may not always have the deftness of true wisdom, I do seek to lead a good life that is packed solid with works pleasing to the Almighty. So God willing, as my friends become more perfect with time, so will I. 

Indestructible seed

Last weekend I watched a slew of romantic movies as Valentine's Day fell on Friday. Although I am not a fan of sad endings, the movie I really liked was Lootera, a movie loosely based on O. Henry's short story The Last Leaf.

It is a beautifully shot and acted (Sonakshi Sinha and Ranveer Singh are brilliant) romantic drama set in the 1950s and tells the story of an accidental, impossible love and its subsequent betrayal, to its ultimate redemption. Despite the sad ending, the tale moves from bitterness and despair into hope. Tragedy is transformed into triumph when Varun strains beyond his past in an unselfish act of love that costs him his life.

This is how the story goes. Boy meets girl. They fall in love but boy disappears, leaving girl standing at the altar. The double whammy is boy also cheated and stole from girl's father, leaving the family in reduced circumstances. Girl's father dies, a broken man, and girl is left alone, a sick, dying and embittered recluse. Their paths cross when boy is wounded running away from the police and seeks refuge in girl's bungalow.

Pakhi is still furious with Varun but does not turn him over to the police. It turns out that Varun did truly love Pakhi but ended up choosing his former life of crime because he felt he was unable to shake off his past to begin life anew.

Pakhi becomes very ill and is convinced that when the last tree sheds its last leaf in the wintry cold, she will die. Knowing this, Varun climbs the tree to tie a leaf he has fashioned onto a branch so that Pakhi will cling on to life. He does this repeatedly as he nurses her back to health over several days.

The police eventually suspect his whereabouts but instead of escaping, Varun stubbornly ties the last leaf one final morning, then slowly walks toward the waiting police and certain death. Pakhi awakes feeling better, and is left with the truth of Varun's actions.

What appeals to me in this love story is the conflicted courtship and the fractured relationship between Pakhi and Varun. Love is never an easy or straightforward course. There are no simplistic happily-ever-afters as it is usually portrayed in the movies.

Couples hurt each other. They make monumentally stupid choices. They destroy the very thing they seek at times. And there is no turning back the clock. And yet, there is this thing called redemption when love moves out of fear, hurt, despair, self-serving gratuity and social constricts into actions that sing of quiet sacrifice with no expectation of return. Pure, self-giving unconditional love.

The paradox of such sacrificial love is that it frees us to be who we are. In staying back, Varun made the most liberating decision of his life. Even though he will die for it, the price was paid willingly for it not only brought healing into Pakhi's life, but he finally became the man he wanted to be when he was with her - a better man.

In 1 Peter, chapter 1, verses 22-23, the saint writes:

By obedience to the truth you have purified yourselves for a genuine love of your brothers; therefore, love one another constantly from the heart. Your rebirth has come, not from a destructible but from an indestructible seed, through the living and enduring word of God. 

When love comes from the heart, it mirrors the love God has for us and therefore acquires a hint of transcendent immortality, enduring through time like a great masterpiece.

In O. Henry's short story, the last leaf is painted by an elderly artist to give hope to his young neighbour who is ill and convinced she will die when the last leaf falls. She recovers for she does not give up (as the last leaf does not fall), but he falls sick and dies after painting the last leaf on the wall, catching pneumonia himself. The artist who did not acquire any success in his lifetime, painted something priceless for he inspired hope and life.

My life may not be as dramatic as the movies or novels, but I can strive to love as genuinely as Varun and the artist Behrman did. And when I am dispirited or feel that my efforts are futile, my hope lies in the wisdom and love of my living God who is indestructible.

Of mice and monkeys

Last weekend I was invited to TR's home for steamboat and it was great CNY fun. MP upped the conviviality factor by doubling up as the lohei mui (the lass who preps the yusheng salad for all), expertly reading from her Blackberry, and the jiu mei (alcohol maid) dispensing the wine freely.

TR put on a spread of the freshest seafood, vegetables and condiments to satisfy even the pickiest palate. The dessert spread included fruit, ice cream and a gorgeous red velvet cake baked by M.

Apart from the excellent eats, TR provided the entertainment as well. Conversant with the Chinese zodiac, she answered questions on the different animals and their traits, going round the dinner table.

As TR touched on the character strengths and flaws of each animal and its compatibility with other animals, the common thread we each found was that most of our families are composed of animals who purportedly do not get along.

I smiled inwardly at the wisdom of God. For where else do we learn to be human? Unfortunately, most of us tend to avoid the difficult relationships in our families, and years of baggage make reconciliation all that much harder.

We even find it impossible, to honour the spirit of the reunion dinner and subsequent CNY meals, where everyone sits at one table to "eat rice" companionably and joyously as one family.

When I reflect on the many traditions of the CNY festivities, it is not just about good fortune, prosperity, health, success and abundance in the new year. The Chinese New Year is also a time for gathering, renewing bonds, demonstrating filial piety, and of getting rid of the old and putting on the new - not just the material, but one's aspirations and desires.

It is about harmony, centred mainly on family harmony. It is about respecting your elders, getting along with your siblings and doting on your children. This harmony also extends to the wider circle of friends and acquaintances. Red packets with money are dispensed not just to children and singles, but to thank those who serve you in the year, wishing them well. (This includes and is not restricted to the garbage collectors and the road sweepers.)

Getting back to the dinner conversation, TR shared that her parents took pains to ensure she would not grow into the less desirable characteristics of her zodiac animal. Her parents did what good parents do; mould their children's characters so that they become adults who are giving, respectful, hardworking and humble. TR is all that, so her parents did good. Love you, TR, for all that you are.

As the CNY celebrations finally draw to a close, I give thanks for my family, the whole menagerie, who keep me grounded, and I thank TR for giving me new insight into my relations so that I can understand them a little better, liking and loving them a little more. 

Becoming women of joy

Last Saturday afternoon, the Woman to Woman Ministry organized a talk by Maria Vadia who had been invited by the Archdiocese of Singapore’s Office for Young People, in partnership with ICPE Mission Singapore, to teach at the School of Witness, a nine-week faith formation programme for Catholic youth leaders.

 

The event was such a success in terms of attendee numbers that I asked S, someone I knew, what attracted her to the event? She replied the word joy (the theme had been Becoming Women of Joy).

 

I am not surprised. And yet, at the same time, we should already know how to be joyous. We should be, as Maria put it, be happy Catholics, for joy is our inheritance.

 

It does not mean that we will not experience pain, loss or suffering, but if we are rooted in the reality of Christ's salvific love, then we should experience a deep, abiding joy even in the midst of protracted trials.

 

Maria offered a simple yet winning approach to becoming women of joy (men, this is for you, too) found in 1 Thessalonians 5:18: Give thanks in everything.

 

We should constantly be singing songs of praise and thanksgiving. Even when things seem to go wrong, instead of whining about it, or giving vent to anger and frustration in a negative, destructive way, we should thank God for the situation.

 

She reminded us that: Death and life are in the power of the tongue. Whoever values it shall eat from its fruits from Proverbs 18:21, so we must be careful how we use our tongues. Our words have a spiritual effect therefore strive to always speak words that are life-giving, and do not grieve the Spirit.

 

Maria shared stories of miracles that happened to people she had prayed with, and who then commenced to move in thanksgiving, as she directed:

 

A journalist jailed for writing a story deemed inappropriate was set free inexplicably, much to the joy of his wife who had stopped praying for her husband’s freedom and instead began to give thanks. 

 

A man who chose to attend a seminar Maria was leading despite worrying about his crop was informed that rain had ended the dry spell and his livelihood was protected. At the seminar he had learned to praise God. 

 

A failing paint shop suddenly saw three customers in a day who bought enough paint to pay the rent for that month, and thereafter business continued to pick up. This happened when the owners changed the way they prayed.

 

These "success stories" came about because the parties involved began to emulate Jesus, doing as He did, which brought Lazarus back to life: Then, lifting his eyes, Jesus said: Father, I give thanks to you because you have heard me. John 11:41

 

If we want to be full of joy, Maria emphasized, we must change the way we speak and see life. We must change the way we pray. Give thanks and praise for answered prayer, even before we see the results.

 

Thank the Lord for what He has in store for us. As He tells us in Jeremiah chapter 29, verse 11: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
 

Life may not always be predictable, but if we believe this promise made to Jeremiah, then we will open our mouths and let our tongues move in praise and thanksgiving. We will rejoice always, and thus become women of joy, as Mary and Elizabeth were. 

Revelation and mission

When I think of evangelization, it gives me sweaty palms.  I have never been any good at selling anything. I am not glib of tongue and I cannot think on my feet. Worse, I am also a squeamish cradle Catholic who is reticent about sharing the Gospel. Quite un-missionary-like.

So what Saint Paul, a fiery evangelist, said to the Corinthians (first letter, chapter 2, verses 1-5) is encouraging for he professes to weakness, fear and trembling and admits that he has no persuasive words of wisdom, only words that are a demonstration of the Spirit and power.

Yesterday, Maria Vadia echoed Paul's words as she spoke to those who attended her afternoon sharing at the Church of Saint Francis Xavier.

She first stressed that evangelization is not a programme but a lifestyle. Therefore we must repent, that is make a change in how we live, and step out of our comfort zone. This change involves loving people enough to want to share the Good News.

Loving people is the kicker. How do I love those who are difficult to love? People who are mean, negative and openly hostile, derisive of my every overture. Two words: Holy Spirit.

If, in the desire to bring people to Jesus, I listen closely to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and I am faithful in carrying them out, then I will be able to carry out the mission of evangelization. A mission woven into the spiritual DNA of every Christian, Catholics included.

It is not about having the right skills or qualifications, what Saint Paul calls oratory or philosophy, but the right attitude. If I am docile to the Holy Spirit who lives within me, then I will be given the key to open a person's heart towards receiving Christ.

The revelatory Spirit will guide me, enabling me to breach the unloveable and unwelcome façade to see, and love, the person within.

Maria shared the story of Christine, a woman who shunned all efforts to reach out to her. Christine lived in Genesis House, a home for the homeless with AIDS. She was surly and uncommunicative, and turned her nose up at the food Maria brought on her regular visits.

At her wits' end, Maria implored, God, help me! She received a vision: a MacDonald's double cheeseburger with a large order of fries. When she offered this to Christine, she saw the first smile she had ever seen on Christine's face and consequently, this food offering was the opening Maria had sought hard to share Jesus with Christine and bring her to Christ.

Evangelization is about giving others what we already have. We must therefore have the heart of God, something we can find only in and through Jesus. Hence an intimate, living relationship with Jesus is necessary. And through this relationship, we get acquainted with the Holy Spirit, who allows the power of God to be manifested.

Maria calls the gift of tongues, our personal love language with God. It helps us connect to God in a visceral and mystical way that bypasses our intellect for it is a heart language. In using our heart language, we can become powerful conduits of grace, bringing divine 
insights and supernatural healing to others for we allow the Holy Spirit to do His thing, work His magic.

She encouraged us to claim the gifts of the Spirit, especially that of tongues. When we exercise our spiritual gifts, we co-partner the Holy Spirit so that everywhere we go, opportunities by divine appointment (much like how Philip met the Ethiopian eunuch in the wilderness) abound. We become gifted people (read 1 Corinthians chapter 12), inside and out, personifying love in action.

Maria demonstrated the power of the Holy Spirit by doing what she exhorted us to do and it was amazing to see the many healings and the number of people who received the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the gift of tongues.

Yesterday, I went with an open heart to receive, and I did. I was reminded of how much I was loved, and my prayer on how I was supposed to share the Good News was answered.

Stop thinking or analyzing so much. Stop feeling unworthy, not up to task, for I will never be up to the task. Just say yes and move in the Spirit (that means pray unceasingly), and God will do the rest.

I need only to listen well to receive His revelations and then act on them to carry out God's mission of love to all, as Jesus did.