Category Archives: Daily Reflections

3rd Sunday of Lent (Year A)
Exodus 17:3-7 | Psalm 94(95):1-2,6-9 | Romans 5:1-2,5-8 | John 4:5-42

Today’s first reading and Gospel share the common themes of water and thirst. Water in particular is on the minds of many Singaporeans lately, with the recent announcement of significant hikes in water tariffs.

Jesus, of course, gives us living water without any fees, just a willingness to be faithful to His Word and live the Gospel life, spreading the Good News in thought, word and deed.

Are we thirsty for this water?

And will we in turn share this water with others?

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Later today, I’ll be celebrating with many others the 70th anniversary of Sr. Lorenzina Nota’s religious profession with the Daughters of St. Paul.

70 years of spreading the living water of Good News through her apostolate of media.

70 years of saying “Yes” to God daily.

How could I say “No” to honouring her commitment?

Amen.

Saturday of the 2nd week of Lent
Micah 7:14-15,18-20 | Psalm 102(103):1-4,9-12 | Luke 15:1-3,11-32

We recall the familiar parable of the Prodigal Son today, and are reminded of God’s infinite mercy and love. He just wants us to repent of our sins, and to return to Him in trust and humility, like sheep to a shepherd.

As for those of us who have begun that process of reconciliation and repentance, let us not look down upon our brethren who have yet to take the first step, those who are still mired in temptations and distractions. Let us instead reach out to them as God has reached out to us, in love and patience, encouraging them to come back to the eternal Father.

Amen.

Friday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Genesis 37:3-4,12-13,17-28 | Psalm 104(105):16-21 | Matthew 21:33-43,45-46

Today, we hear the story of Joseph’s journey into slavery at the hands of his jealous brothers. At some point in the future, we may hear about his kindness to them in the time of famine, despite their prior ill-treatment.

Today also happens to St. Patrick’s Day, wherein all Ireland honours the missionary who returned to the land of his enslavement, just to preach the Good News of salvation to his former captors.

Which gives us pause for thought: When we have broken free of our captivity of sin, would we turn back to help others escape too?

Would we extend a helping hand, or a sympathetic ear, or do a kindness, to those mired in the same depths of depravity from which we came, some of whom might even have dragged us down with them in the first place?

Or would we just walk away, basking in our new-found freedom, leaving all others to fend for themselves against the rising tide of spiritual darkness?

Is salvation for us alone, who have been blessed with the Good News, or is it for all to receive, through our thoughts, words and deeds?

Are we like Joseph, generous to a fault, or like his brothers, jealous enough to sell him into slavery?

Lord, help us to be more like You, sharing Your love with all we meet, caring enough to overlook the slights and injuries visited upon us, for the good of even those who hate us. Amen.

Thursday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Jeremiah 17:5-10 | Psalm 1:1-4,6 | Luke 16:19-31

Today’s reading from Jeremiah sends an intriguing message to us all:

Trust in men, in secular comfort, and you’ll find despair even in plenty.

Trust in God, and you’ll find hope in crisis.

Jesus amplifies this message in today’s Gospel, not just by telling the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, but also by His choice of name for the poor man. “Lazarus” comes from the Hebrew Elazar, literally “God is my help”.

Indeed, God is my help. He raises me up when I’ve fallen, comforts me when I despair of everything, and asks only that I love others as He has loved me.

I long to be reunited with Him, but until that day, I’ll do my best to fulfill His one demand.

Amen.

Wednesday of the 2nd Week of Lent
Jeremiah 18:18-20 | Psalm 30(31):5-6,14-16 | Matthew 20:17-28

Listen to me, O Lord,
hear what my adversaries are saying.
Should evil be returned for good?
For they are digging a pit for me.
Remember how I stood in your presence
to plead on their behalf,
to turn your wrath away from them. (Jeremiah 18:19-20)

When we pray to God about our enemies, what do we say? Probably something along the lines of “take them away from me, Lord!” or even “smite them, Lord, that they may not trouble me again!”

Jeremiah too succumbed to this:

Then hand their sons over to famine,
abandon them to the edge of the sword.
May their wives become childless and widowed.
May their husbands die of plague,
their young men be cut down by the sword in battle.
Let cries re-echo from their houses as you bring raiders suddenly on them.
For they have dug a pit to catch me, they have laid snares to trap my feet. (Jeremiah 18:21-22)

But Jesus has a timely reminder for us:

You do not know what you are asking. (Matthew 20:22)

He bids us love our enemies, seeing them as our brothers and sisters who are temporarily separated from the eternal love of the Father.

In their shoes, facing the circumstances they do, might we not have done the same?

Over the past few days, I’ve heard a lot of condemnation, targeted at certain figures in our local diocese. I think some of it might be warranted, especially for those who may have tainted our community with financial scandal, in the pursuit of personal riches.

To be honest, it reminds me of the other apostles’ indignation with James and John in today’s Gospel, for their presumptive arrogance–somewhat justified, with a little self-indulgent crowing of “sinner! SINNER!”

But as I was writing the previous few paragraphs, and wondering what I would say next, I received a fortuitous WhatsApp request to participate in a local university survey–about my attitudes towards living and socializing with ex-convicts. It’s as if I’ve been sent a message about my own prejudices and judgmental tendencies.

I’ll be taking the survey after I finish this blog entry, but one mantra is already running around in my head:

My enemies are human too.
There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Lord, help me to judge less, and love more. Amen.