Monthly Archives: January 2017

Thursday of Week 3 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops
2 Timothy 1:1-8 | Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10 | Mark 4:21-25

Night and day I thank God, keeping my conscience clear and remembering my duty to him as my ancestors did, and always I remember you in my prayers; I remember your tears and long to see you again to complete my happiness. (2 Timothy 1:3-4)

I visited my old friend’s mother in hospital yesterday. She was asleep, but ever so often, an alarming gurgle erupted from her throat, the suction tube keeping her from drowning in her own mucus.

As she slept, I imagined how she must feel when she wakes up and, deep in the throes of dementia, finds herself surrounded by smiling strangers she once called “family”.

I imagined how her family must feel, losing her mentally long before losing her eventually.

I imagined myself in her place, adrift in a lonely sea. I wondered if I would even be able to remember God any more.

That last bit felt like a stab to the gut.

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It’s been said that dementia first affects recent memory, then progressively erodes our recollection of earlier times. It may also be possible to resist this loss to some extent with constant repetition, but we’ll have to choose our “battles” carefully, saving our energy for the truly meaningful struggles.

So what would we want to keep in mind at any cost? Surely our loved ones, at minimum.

Does that include God?

Why not?

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Brothers and sisters, while we still have the mental capacity to do so, let’s take a hint from St. Paul’s words to Timothy.

Let’s constantly keep in mind our duty to Him as His children, our duty to love each other as He loves us.

Let’s pray every chance we get, that we might always remember Jesus’ tears as He hung in agony on the cross of our collective salvation, and always long to be reunited with Him and our heavenly Father.

Perhaps, if we do this faithfully, we may retain our recollection and connection to the Divine, when all else is lost from our mental map.

Lord, may we never forget that You care for us.
May we never turn away from You in our forgetfulness.
May we never lose our connection to You.
Amen.

The Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle
Acts 22:3-16 | Psalm 116(117) | Mark 16:15-18

The conversion of Saul the persecutor to Paul the apostle is about as dramatic as it gets, and he came out of it like an evangelical whirlwind, preaching like there was no tomorrow.

Yesterday, I received not one but two reminders just how fragile our “tomorrow” really is.

In the early evening, on my way to a meeting at the local cathedral, I received a call from an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in a while. It turned out his mother, with whom I’ve also been close, had been hospitalized last week with breathing difficulties, and due to her advanced age, was not given a good prognosis at all.

Then, after the meeting, I traveled back on the train with another friend, who mentioned in passing that one of her colleagues recently died at her workplace from a heart attack. The person whom she was to meet went to her office when she never showed, and found her slumped over her keyboard. He immediately applied CPR and managed to bring some color back into her lips, but soon after emergency services got her to the nearest hospital, she was declared dead.

She was my age.

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These two incidents are grim reminders that, even though I feel healthier now that I felt 20 years ago (aside from a few expected aches and pains), I might not have a “tomorrow” to carry on with.

None of us should be so complacent, that we can always reconcile with God at the next penitential service, that we can share the Christ-fruits we’ve received with others after the financial year closes, that we can practice alms-giving after the Chinese New Year period.

In our perpetual “scheduling battle” between me-time and God-time, it’s past time to shift the frontline towards the Almighty.

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I think my friend anticipated my response to her workplace tragedy. She quietly nodded when I recounted what I’ve seen many times in our parish vestry, a large placard displaying the Priest’s Commendation Before Mass:

O Priest of God,
celebrate this Holy Mass as if it were
your first Mass,
your last Mass,
your only Mass.

We should inscribe on our own hearts a similar commendation:

O child of the Most High,
live this God-given day as if it were
your first day,
your last day,
your only day.

Return to the Lord with all your heart,
share with others the joy of our salvation.
Do it now,
for you may never have this chance again.

Amen.

Tuesday of Week 3 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saint Francis de Sales, Bishop, Doctor
Hebrews 10:1-10 | Psalm 39(40):2,4,7-8,10,11 | Mark 3:31-35

Since the Law has no more than a reflection of these realities, and no finished picture of them, it is quite incapable of bringing the worshippers to perfection, with the same sacrifices repeatedly offered year after year. (Hebrews 10:1)

Have you ever experienced boredom at mass?

Have you ever let your mind drift off during the consecration of the Body and Blood of Christ, hearing the same words each Sunday?

Have you ever mouthed the responses, the Creed, the various prayers, without emotion, without thought, without much of anything?

Yeah, I’ve been there too. Repetition without understanding surely leads to apathy.

I’ve spent many years struggling to retain interest in the weekly reminders of the One Holy Sacrifice. Sometimes I’d “wake up” and begin to take the meaning of the words the day’s celebrant uttered, but it never really lasted.

Until my wife was asked to be the godmother to a 4-year-old girl, which made me the godfather by association. I suddenly asked myself, “How would I explain the mass to this little girl?”

I guess that was all the motivation I really needed, to step outside myself and look at the mass from an innocent’s point of view, to think about how I’d explain this action or those words to a young child.

Now, I still repeat the same words at each Sunday mass, but in my head, everything’s become that much richer.

In my head, I’m spending hours upon hours waxing rhapsodically about the Creed to a young girl, holding forth on phrases we traditionally spew without thought.

In my head, I’m BEHOLDING the spotless Lamb who redeemed us all, not a white wafer and a shiny wine-filled cup.

In my head, I’m surrounded by God’s children, flawed though we all are.

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St. Francis de Sales is the patron saint of, among other things, writers and journalists. Clearly, I’ve been writing quite a lot, so a prayer to him on this day of his memorial is especially appropriate:

St. Francis de Sales, you converted countless others in your time with your goodness, patience and mildness, and all of these qualities continue to inspire us today through your writings.

Help me find the grace to be good, patient and mild in my own writings, and in my daily dealings with others, that I may in turn inspire others to turn to our heavenly Father.

Help me find the courage to truly live in deed the bold proclamation: “Here I am, Lord! I come to do your will!”

Help me find the strength to keep my faith in God amid strife and temptation, that in my last days, I may gracefully let go of this mortal coil and embrace heaven in all its wonder.

Amen.

Monday of Week 3 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Hebrews 9:15,24-28 | Psalm 97(98):1-6 | Mark 3:22-30

If a household is divided against itself, that household can never stand. (Mark 3:25)

I blogged yesterday about how we should deal with the upcoming rotation of parish priests, with understanding and a desire to find common ground.

As should happen in the house of God, so should also happen in our own households.

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The nomadic Bedouin have a saying:

I against my brother,
I and my brother against our cousin,
I, my brother and our cousin against the neighbors,
All of us against the foreigner.

It’s a natural hierarchy of loyalties in this distrusting world, but we Catholics have a different outlook:

We are one in the Spirit.

So as we approach the Chinese New Year, let’s work on repairing whatever broken relationships we may have with our family members, and let the Lord enter all our lives in the process. After all, the family is the original church.

Amen.

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
Isaiah 8:23-9:3 | Psalm 26(27):1,4,13-14 | 1 Corinthians 1:10-13,17 | Matthew 4:12-23

What I mean are all these slogans that you have, like: ‘I am for Paul’, ‘I am for Apollos’, ‘I am for Cephas’, ‘I am for Christ.’ Has Christ been parcelled out? Was it Paul that was crucified for you? Were you baptised in the name of Paul? (1 Corinthians 1:12-13)

This passage reminds me uncomfortably that we will soon have a “changing of the guard” at our parish, and most other parishes in Singapore. Already, I hear rumblings like “aiyah, the incoming priest is terrible, everything also banned one!” and “never mind, Singapore so small, I will follow Fr. X to his new parish!”

That sounds dangerously close to the kind of schism that St. Paul warns us against – “I am for Andrew”, “I am for Terrence”, “I am for J.P.”

Granted, our priests have markedly different temperaments and preferences. If a by-the-book shepherd replaces an easy-going one, or vice versa, there will surely be discontent.

There will be likely be changes in how we celebrate the sacred mysteries, some subtle, others in-your-face.

Inevitably, there will be conflict.

But if we all, priest and parishoners, are willing to work together, to find common ground, to achieve a shared understanding of the community spirit in our parish, such differences can be overcome.

We just need to remember that God is for us. He sent Jesus to die for our sake; He can’t possibly be against us.

So why should we set ourselves against one another?

Amen.