Category Archives: Lent

Wednesday of the 4th Week of Lent
Isaiah 49:8-15 | Psalm 144(145):8-9,13b-14,17-18 | John 5:17-30

I can do nothing by myself;
I can only judge as I am told to judge,
and my judging is just,
because my aim is to do not my own will,
but the will of him who sent me.’ (John 5:30)

It’s easy to recognize the people who do things with little will.

They’ll be radiating an air of “I don’t want to be here, but I was told I needed to do this, so don’t bother me, and we’ll be fine”.

They’ll put in only enough effort to get the job done to minimum standards, and clearly lack enthusiasm.

They’ll quickly abandon their work thereafter, instead of taking some measure of pride in a job well done.

We all know people like this in our lives: colleagues, service personnel, perhaps even clergy. Decades of ministering to people, who are themselves going through the Christian motions, can sap the energy and will out of pretty much anyone.

But that’s when our will is involved, the will that says “I’m not getting anything useful out of this, so don’t expect much from me”.

When the Father’s will comes to the fore, it’s quite a different story. To consciously align our will with God’s makes our actions that much smoother, when “what if this happens, or that doesn’t happen?” is replaced with “here I am, Lord, to do Thy will, so lead me where Thou wilt”.

Jesus Himself makes it plain in today’s Gospel, and in many other instances in scripture, what His posture towards the Father was, and what our own posture should be:

Lord, Your will be done. Give us the will to do Your will with all our heart, and soul, and strength. For the kingdom, the power and the glory are Yours, now and forever. Amen.

Tuesday of the 4th Week of Lent
Ezekiel 47:1-9,12 | Psalm 45(46):2-3,5-6,8-9 | John 5:1-3,5-16

One man there had an illness which had lasted thirty-eight years, and when Jesus saw him lying there and knew he had been in this condition for a long time, he said, ‘Do you want to be well again?’ (John 5:5-6)

What an odd question: Do you want to be well again? Who wouldn’t?

Well, what if “being well again” meant giving up something that’s defined your life for the last 38 years–or more? What if it’s something that doesn’t cause you pain like the man in today’s Gospel, but does hurt the people around you?

What if “being well again” meant you would no longer be able to gossip, or assert your authority with harsh words, or get away with hurting others by claiming that “I’ve always been like this, can’t be helped, don’t take what I say so personally lah”?

If you were offered the “cure”, would you really want to be well again?

Because Jesus has been offering to cure us since we first knew Him.

Why are we still hesitating?

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Righteous anger has long been my Achilles heel. I’ve always hesitated when a small amount of harshness might forestall a bad situation, to the point when things get so bad that I blow my top publicly. “Sweetness and light” is pretty much my motto, but that also leaves me looking rather spineless, and so I become less effective with each passing week in uniting my choir members in harmonious song.

So why would I hesitate to accept a “cure”? Because, in the depths of my heart, I greatly fear that I would then slowly become the very person I described above, heedless of others’ feelings in my continual wielding of rapier wit and cutting remarks. It would be hell on earth for me to despise myself every single day.

Clearly, I still haven’t attained complete trust in God, that He knows what’s best for me, even if I feel His “medicine” actually makes things worse.

Perhaps that’s the cure I need from Him: the willingness to abandon myself completely to Him, not just in meaningless words, but with the totality of mind and heart.

Lord, You’ve searched my heart, and You know me. Help me truly trust that You always have the best in mind for me, even when I’m feeling besieged, alone and helpless. Help me truly trust that You’ve always been beside me, and that You will continue to accompany me till my time is through. Give me the wisdom to discern Your will, and the confidence to carry it out against all opposition. Amen.

Monday of the 4th Week of Lent
Isaiah 65:17-21 | Psalm 29(30):2,4-6,11-13 | John 4:43-54

Thus says the Lord: Now I create new heavens and a new earth, and the past will not be remembered, and will come no more to men’s minds. (Isaiah 65:17)

The past is prologue. Everything we did, everything that was done to us, shaped the persons we are today.

But the past must remain in the past. Whatever sins we have committed, whatever hurts we have endured, they are history. Instead of dwelling on them, instead of convincing ourselves that “as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be”, our response should be “what can we improve tomorrow?”

Lately, I’m reminded of this rather often, as the day draws near for the “changing of the guard” at our parish. A increasing number of rumours have surfaced, some of which would admittedly cause a seismic shift in our parish choirs.

But because they are rumours, I’m determined not to give them any credence. Whatever our new parish priest wants to get done will be revealed shortly, and while extrapolating from his actions at his former parish might be an amusing intellectual exercise, it also strains the working relationship we have to establish with him when he arrives.

We would prefer that others not use our past actions against us, when trying to forge new working relationships; such consideration underlies things like the Yellow Ribbon Project that has been going on for over a decade.

We should also extend that same courtesy to our new parish priest, and not promote the kind of “pre-crime” condemnation that comes with thinking “as it was in the beginning…”

After all, Jesus Himself forgave a lot of sins in His time; so many of His cures were accompanied by the words “your sins are forgiven”. We can but do the same with others: “Whatever’s past is history. Let’s move forward together, rather than against each other.”

Lord, we love to judge others by their previous actions. Help us to forego our judgement, and to forgive as You forgave even those who hung You on the cross, so that we may work together to bring God’s Kingdom to fruition. Amen.

4th Sunday of Lent (Year A)
1 Samuel 16:1,6-7,10-13 | Psalm 22(23) | Ephesians 5:8-14 | John 9:1-41

‘Take no notice of his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him: God does not see as man sees: man looks at appearances but the Lord looks at the heart.’ (1 Samuel 16:7)

My business partner introduced me to a remarkable woman almost 10 years ago. He’d met her during a trip to China, and for some reason, the two of them hit it off quite quickly.

As for me, I found Serene to be quite the opposite person that her name would suggest; she was quite literally a harridan–shrill, bossy, and overall quite annoying.

Yet, 10 years later, she’s an important part of our venture, because despite her nails-on-chalkboard presence, she’s one of the most meticulous people I’ve ever met.

When my partner and I frequently wander off in our discussions and business-related activities, she’s there to drag us back to reality.

She questions all our “work product” in excruciating detail, bringing a valuable “dummies” perspective to our overly-technical presentation of trends and indicators that are meant to be understood by novice investors.

By poking us about stuff we believe to be “blindingly obvious”, she keeps us honest, and stops us from blinding ourselves and our target audience. To everyone else, though, she’s just a pain.

Appearances can be so deceptive. Just ask the prophet Samuel, when he unexpectedly anointed David by command of the Lord.

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Speaking of blindness…

We’re all familiar with the saying: There are none so blind as those who would not see. The Pharisees of Jesus’ time are often held up as examples of such blindness, well-versed in Mosaic Law but blindly hewing to it beyond all love and common sense.

But there are also people in this world who cannot see, those whose knowledge of God is tainted by the stain of priestly misconduct and Catholic opposition to abortion and contraception, among other things. They can’t see God because we followers of Christ, who are called to carry His light to all, bear instead the darkness of selfish indulgence and a dearth of love for our fellow humans.

We can do better. We must do better. Now that we’re past the halfway mark of our Lenten observance, we should be in a state of mind to re-examine our daily living, to honestly identify those areas in which we fall short of Christian love in the eyes of those around us, and take the necessary steps to correct ourselves.

In that way, may we echo Christ Himself:

As long as I am in the world
I am the light of the world. (John 9:5)

Lord, You see us falter as we walk Your Holy Way each day. Help us get back on our feet, discard all the mundane encumbrances that spiritually trip us up, and give us the strength to continue illuminating Your Way for others through our thoughts, words and deeds, as You continued like a lamb towards Your glorious Passion. Amen.

The Annunciation of the Lord
Isaiah 7:10-14,8:10 | Psalm 39(40):7-11 | Hebrews 10:4-10 | Luke 1:26-38

Today, we celebrate Mary’s assent to becoming the Mother of God,

her openness to doing God’s will despite not comprehending the magnitude of His intent,

and the pain that she would have to endure, watching her own Son die an ignominious death on a cross.

When shall we celebrate our own assent to becoming true children of God,

our openness to doing His will despite not truly understanding what is being asked of us,

and the pain that we would have to endure, watching others blithely wallow in their secular pleasures and freedoms, in ways that we simply cannot allow ourselves?

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When I first committed myself to contemplating the Word of God every day, I could not have understood how much it would change me.

I see more and more connections between the scripture I read, and the events I behold in my own life.

I’m less and less able to indulge in the feasts I used to enjoy, both gastronomic and mental.

And I’m particularly drawn to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, as a growing urge to be reunited with God begins to overwhelm my reluctance to examine my conscience.

Indeed I shall rejoice, for I know the Lord is with me, and while He may not have the sort of earth-shattering plans for me as He did for Our Blessed Mother, I look forward to seeing what He intends for me next.

Lord, we are Your servants, let whatever You have willed be done unto us, for nothing is impossible to You. Amen.