1. Year C / 30th Sunday / Ordinary Time
    Readings: Sirach 35.12-4, 16-18 / Psalm 34 (R/v 7a) / Timothy 4.6-8, 16-18/ Luke 18.9-14


    Have you taken a good look at yourself looking at others lately?

    I’d like to suggest this is what our gospel reading is inviting us 
    to do today so that we can better live and love as Christians.

    The parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector in Luke’s gospel 
    continues the theme of prayer that we heard last week. 
    Then, Jesus taught us about persevering in prayer. 
    Today, Jesus teaches us about humility in prayer. 

    Often, when we read or hear this parable, 
    we picture it like a short film being screened before us.

    We see the setting: a temple. 
    We encounter the characters: a Pharisee and a tax-collector. 
    We see what they do and hear what they say. 

    Both men go up to the Temple to pray. 
    The Pharisee stands by himself in a section worthy of his role. 
    The tax-collector stands away from this place, some distance from it, 
    because he feels unworthy.

    The Pharisee prays to God saying, 
    “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: 
    thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 
    I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of my income.” 
    The tax collector, on the other hand, repeats over and over as his prayer, 
    “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.” 

    You and I are familiar with this scene. 
    We are also familiar with how it ends: 
    God is pleased with the tax collector because his prayer is honest. 
    He knows who he really is, a sinner in need of God’s grace. 
    His prayer opens himself into deeper relationship with God.

    The Pharisee’s prayer is all about himself 
    and nothing about God or about God being part of his life. 
    He comes and goes from temple the same--full of himself.

    As we look at this scene, 
    you and I hear the sincerity and humility of the tax-collector. 
    And I believe all of us would definitely say, "I want to be like him: 
    I too am a sinner and I want to have the kind of humility he has 
    to be in better relationship with God." 

    As we look at the Pharisee, however, 
    I believe most of us would most probably judge him: 
    "He puts me off because he is full of himself, proud and self-righteous, 
    and I am thankful that Jesus is reminding me, 
    who comes to Mass faithfully, who prays regularly, 
    who lives my Christian life obediently,
    that I am not like him. Thank you Jesus for teaching me not to be a Pharisee."

    But what if this scene is not a short film we are just to look at?
    What if it is a mirror? 
    A mirror that challenges us with a reflection 
    of ourselves like the Pharisee,
    a reflection of us judging and condemning him because we are better than him?

    Today’s passage begins 
    by telling us that Jesus addresses this parable 
    "to those who are convinced of their own righteousness 
    and despised everyone else."

    Yes, Jesus is addressing the Pharisees of his day. 
    But couldn’t he also be challenging us today?

    After all, who amongst us here has never been self-righteous like the Pharisee? 
    Never looked down on another? Never blinded ourselves to others?

    We most probably have done so in a variety of ways, 
    and every now and then.
    and more often than not in small, everyday ways than we are not conscious of.

    Like treating the less skilled in our workplaces with less attention and care.
    Like keeping believers of others religions apart because they threaten our faith.
    Like crafting laws that benefit the powerful at the expanse of those in need.
    Like taking care only of ourselves and forgetting the rights of others.
    And, like even separating who’s in and who’s out to receive communion 
    because we judge them to be less Christian than we are.

    And yet, isn’t our experience of God
    when we come to prayer,
    even when we are like the Pharisee,
    the experience of God’s merciful forgiveness and continuing love,
    not God’s condemnation?

    We come to prayer not as people who are all good or are all sinful.
    Rather, we pray with the complexity of all that is good and all that is bad in us.
    We have both holy desires that we want to grow into 
    and the shame of sinfulness we need to confess.

    Now, isn’t this who the self-righteous Pharisee also is
    as he comes with his heart’s desire to pray to God?

    If this is the truth of who we are when we pray
    then the God we meet in prayer is God who truly understands, loves and forgives us 
    no less than he does the tax-collector.
    Such a God sees all of us equally:
    each of us is good because we are God’s creation; 
    each one of us is special because we are God’s beloved; 
    and everyone of us is God’s very own because we are made in God’s image.

    If we are good enough for God to love us still and forgive us more,
    not in spite of our self-righteousness and our sinfulness but because of them,
    then so too are the many others we label sinful,
    like the divorced, the gay and lesbian, the addicted, the non-practicing faithful;
    they, like you and me, are always good enough for God's embrace and welcome home.

    You and I are called to this kind of looking too;
    this way of seeing that someone else is as good enough for God as I am.

    Jesus shows us how we can begin to respond to this invitation
    by praying like the tax collector does.
    His manner of praying is humble praying.
    It is praying with the honesty of knowing
    who we are before God, a sinner
    and what we need from God, mercy and forgiveness.

    Humble praying is therefore about opening ourselves 
    so that God to come into and be part of our lives,
    and in this way help us to see others as God sees them.

    Praying like this, I’d like to suggest, will also slowly but surely
    open us up to the honest truth
    that our sinfulness binds us together with other sinners,
    and that the need for God’s grace must marry them and us in prayer.

    Humble praying then is about praying in solidarity with and for one another.
    It is about seeing, connecting, loving and caring for one another
    by holding each other constantly in prayer.
    No one is better than another.
    No one is more sinful the other.
    We are all equal in God’s eyes.
    And we all need each other’s prayers to make this same journey together 
    to be with God and to be eternally happy.

    This is why humble praying is grace-filled:
    It nurtures us to see ourselves honestly 
    in relation to one another and to God.
    This kind of looking will guard us from being morally superior 
    and being quick to judge and condemn.
    And it will also preserve us from being blind to others
    and acting as if they don’t matter.

    Ultimately, humble praying is about rediscovering
    what God finds good enough to love in each one of us,
    whether we are like the Pharisee or the tax collector:
    and this is the hope God has in our potential 
    to always honestly know our need for God.

    And isn’t this worth praying for humbly,
    not only for ourselves who sin
    but also for those who have sinned against us?



    Preached at St Peter's Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: newcreationschapel.org

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  2. Year C / 29th Sunday / Ordinary Time
    Readings: Exodus 17.8-13/ Psalm 121 (R/v cf  2) / Timothy 3.14 - 4.2 / Luke 18.1-8


    In her poem, 'Praying,' 
    Mary Oliver envisions prayer with these words, 
    It is ‘the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.’

    She captures well what so many of us desire when we pray: 
    to hear the voice of God. 
    To hear God’s voice comforting and assuring us, 
    forgiving us and guiding us.
    And dare I add, to even sometimes hear God’s voice 
    challenging and correcting us. 

    Isn’t what we really want to hear in prayer, God speaking God’s love for us?

    And so, after saying what we have to say to God in prayer, 
    be it petitions and wants or complaints and grumbles, 
    or thanks,  and more thanks, 
    or even may be that quiet surrender, ‘here I am, Lord,’ 
    we pause, we still ourselves,
    and we lean into our prayer hoping to catch the timbre of God’s voice.

    And what might we experience? 
    Hopefully, God speaking to us, God answering our prayer; 
    God saying, ‘I am here too and I am with you.’ 

    But sometimes, and maybe for longer periods in our life, 
    we might have experienced nothing. 
    Just utter silence. Not a squeak or a whisper from God. 

    And this can be disappointing, confusing, even despairing, isn’t it?

    And yet as tempting as it was to give up on God 
    when our prayers were unanswered, 
    when we did not hear his voice, 
    which admittedly I have done sometimes in the past, 
    and I would guess some of us have done likewise too, 
    we kept on praying, didn’t we?

    Our readings today present Moses and the widow persisting in their petitions: 
    Moses to God for Israel’s victory over the Amalek 
    and the widow to a corrupt judge for a just ruling against an opponent. 
    I’d like to suggest that their persistence invites us 
    to reflect on our own perseverance in prayer.

    After all, if we tend to be most persistent about what is important to us, 
    like exercising to keep fit, practicing the clarinet to perform well, 
    and baking that pumpkin pie till you got the recipe just right for Thanksgiving, 
    shouldn’t we also persevere in prayer too 
    since it is really about how we want to be in relationship with God? 

    I think this question is a no-brainer for us who gather here 
    Sunday after Sunday faithfully nurturing our faith: we know our answer. 

    We also know the value of persevering in prayer: 
    a deeper trust in God; 
    a stronger faith to live our everyday lives, most especially in adversity; 
    a dying to our selves that frees us to more closely follow God’s in our lives; 
    and the reassuring company and care 
    of family, friends and fellow parishioners who pray with and for us.

    Perhaps the better question to ask ourselves 
    is 'What allows us to persevere?’ 

    Let me suggest that we might glimpse an answer 
    in the image of Moses with his hands raised up. 

    This is a posture we often see in children. 
    It is what a child does in wanting to be attended to or provided for. 
    It is the stance of a child hoping to be cradled in his mommy’s arms 
    or to lay her head on daddy’s shoulder.

    With his hands held up, 
    Moses’ stance is really the child-like disposition 
    of continually opening oneself to God 
    and trusting that God will provide, 
    even when one doesn’t hear God’s voice 
    or one feels his prayers are going unanswered. 

    St Therese of Lisieux has a wonderful story about child-like faith in God. 
    The Christian, she writes, is like a child at the parade with her father. 
    All around her are a crowd of people who block her view. 
    She hears the parade going by: 
    the marching steps; the band’s rousing music; 
    the cheers and hurrahs of the crowds. 
    All she wants to see is the parade. 
    She has her arms up in giggly, gleeful expectation.  
    And without needing to be asked, her father picks her up, 
    lifts her up with one swoop onto his shoulders, 
    and there, way up high on his shoulders, she delights in the parade.

    I believe that it is this child-like faith 
    that will empower each of us to persevere in prayer, 
    if not in our everyday life too. 

    As absurd as it is to our thinking minds 
    when we don’t experience God’s nearness, 
    this Moses-like act of raising and opening our arms in prayer, again and again, 
    this perseverance is the Christian foolhardiness needed.

    Christian foolhardiness
    that is necessary for the long haul.
    This is what will make the long haul of our journeys of life and faith
    meaningful and hopeful, if not also peaceful. 

    Christian foolhardiness is in fact the grace of perseverance in prayer. 
    It has the form of holy boldness.
    We grow into this daring boldness 
    because as we keep praying and trusting, 
    trusting and praying to God repeatedly,
    the Spirit of Jesus transforms our limited faith 
    into the likeness of his unfailing faith in God 
    whose embrace he has unreservedly entrusted his whole self into.

    It is Jesus’ faith in us then
    that empowers us to practice Christian foolhardiness
    that allow us to keep falling, again and again, 
    into the saving arms of our God who has already raised them up, 
    who has already opened and outstretched them on the Cross in Jesus 
    who says to you and me,
    'Come all who you labor and are weary, and I will give you rest.'

    But we cannot abandon ourselves like this into God’s arms
    without first wholeheartedly and gratefully accepting to live 
    what we have ready been given in baptism: faith in Jesus. 

    A faith we learnt to grow into with our family and friends
    and a faith we come to believe with and through the Church.  

    This morning we remember what our faith is about and who we believe in
    when we sang our responsorial refrain: 
    'our help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.'

    This is the kind of faith in God’s sure help 
    that guarantees us hope in Jesus to hold on to 
    whenever we confront deafening silence in prayer or emptiness in life.

    This is the kind of faith that will enable us 
    to persevere to the Cross with Jesus. 

    Paul’s advice to Timothy in our second reading, 
    ‘Remain faithful to what you have learned and believed’ 
    must be our constant reminder as we persevere.
    It will anchor and orientate our perseverance.

    Our readings this Sunday teach us 
    that what is required of us as a people of faith is to pray always. 

    Our very life
    --the way we live and move and have our being--
    then must be a prayer.

    Be it prayer as petition or prayer as thanksgiving,
    our life will only be prayer 
    when it is not obligation to do but a desire, a yearning to want
    to constantly abandon ourselves into God 
    who wants not only to catch and hold us securely in love
    but to lift us up like the little girl in Therese of Lisieux’s story.

    This is God's desire too: we lift us up 
    to the goodness of all that our life is, 
    all that we are already enjoying with God and one another.

    Ultimately, what matters when we pray,
    especially, as we persevere in prayer,
    is not that we hold God within yourself.
    but that we try, as best as we can, 
    to hold ourselves within God.

    And isn’t this, my friends, a petition worth persevering in prayer for?



    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: up on daddy's shoulders by adsj, paris, july 2009.

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  3. Year C / 28th Sunday / Ordinary Time
    Readings: Kings 5.14-17 / Psalm 98 (R/v cf  2b) / Timothy 2.8-13 / Luke 17.11.-19


    These fall evenings are getting colder;
    there’s a nip of the winter white and winter cold soon to come.
    Yet, nothing is more assuring, for me, 
    whenever I walk home from school at this time 
    than the certainty of a warm home cooked dinner.

    Whatever our evening meal is,
    be it Portugese or Australian, African or Costa Rican, and even American, 
    I know that the seven Jesuits I live with 
    will have prepared food that is ample, hearty and delicious.

    We will gather at seven around our table, 
    with candles lit and table settings in place.
    We will say grace together, 
    thanking God for food and drink, for feast and company, for life and faith.
    Then when our prayers are done with a cacophony of Amens,
    one of us, sometimes, two, 
    will chime a simple, heartfelt, "God bless the cook."

    This note of gratitude is echoed
    in the thanksgiving the Samaritan leper makes to Jesus for healing him.

    The Greek word for ‘thanks’ that Luke uses in today’s gospel reading
    has the richer nuance of giving thanks when one says grace before meals.
    It is gratitude directed towards God who more than heals.
    It is gratitude to God who always provides, who always gives us our daily bread.

    Our familiarity with this theme of gratitude 
    in our gospel reading today might prompt 
    some of us to say, "I know what it means to be grateful," 
    or, as others might utter, "of course, we've heard about Christian gratitude,"
    or, it may even prompt one or two us here to add, 
    "Isn’t our being at Mass good enough thanksgiving?"

    I'd like to suggest that the example of the Samaritan's gratitude  
    has something more to say about thanksgiving.
    Something that can help us better live out
    the invitation we just heard as our gospel acclamation:
    “In all circumstances, give thanks,
    for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.”

    Let me suggest three points for our contemplation today.

    First, gratitude demands attending to the present moment 

    Saying thanks demands our recognition 
    that the present moment is all we have. 
    Gratitude begins by paying attention 
    to what is before us and who it is with us in this moment.

    Gratitude is about savoring our present time,
    with all its brightness and even the darknesses that challenge us to grow up.
    And it is also and always about relishing the company we keep;
    those who give us life, and even those whose ways disturb us to become better.

    Second, with gratitude we can discover our abundance.

    Abundance is not about how much we have, 
    or how much we need, 
    or even whether it is enough, 
    be it about food or time or money, or even friends and connections.

    Rather, abundance is about beginning 
    to appreciate what is and being able to say thank you.

    It is really about appreciating that what our lives are 
    is already abundantly good.
    Good even if we are struggling. 
    because if we pause to take note of the moment we are in, whatever it might be,
    there is always some blessing, or two, or even many more,
    if we but count them. 

    Perhaps, this is what the nine lepers forgot.
    Though they were healed and it was good,
    they were too focused on moving on, on going on to the next best thing.

    The Samaritan instead recognized the abundant goodness 
    of the healing moment with his thanksgiving.
    Saying thanks, then, is the practice of abundance.

    Saying thanks, moreover, keeps us grounded 
    in the goodness of the here and now.
    It frees  us from a past that can constrain us with our regrets and what-ifs
    and from a future we might overstrain ourselves for
    with our oversized expectations and our thoughts about what may-be.

    Saying thank you, then, is a life-giving way to live in our world, 
    as life-giving as Samaritan’s way that moves Jesus
    to say, "Your faith has saved you."

    Ultimately, this practice of abundance, I want to propose,
    can help us to keep our eyes on the giver and not just the gift.

    We’ve all seen how young children at birthday parties and at Christmas
    gleefully tear open the wrapping paper to get to the gift, 
    which they play with for a bit
    before becoming bored and moving on to do the same 
    with the next and the next and the next gift. 
    Their eyes are always focused on newness of each gift.

    Today’s gospel invites us 
    to also receive the many gifts in our lives,
    often, simple everyday ones 
    like somebody’s smile, someone’s care, another’s generosity, 
    and another’s forgiveness.
    Yes, we should unwrap them with as much child-like glee as the young ones.
    But we are to do this with by keeping our gaze on the giver, 
    on the person behind the gift, 
    like the mother who smiles, the classmate who cares, 
    the boss who is generous, the spouse who forgives.
    And yes, always on God who provides abundantly, even excessively.

    Third, gratitude enables us to take possession of our lives.

    The Samaritan took possession of his life by giving thanks to Jesus.
    Jesus had instructed him and the other nine lepers, 
    to see the priests who would verify their healing 
    so that they can return home ritually and physically cleansed.
    But the Samaritan did not do this. 
    Instead he returned to Jesus, the source of his healing.

    I’d like to think that if we do what the Samaritan did,
    we too can take possession of our lives.
    Possession not in the sense of ‘I, me and myself’ controlling my life
    but possession in that Christian sense 
    of living one’s faith aright, living it with a grateful heart 
    of knowing one is intimately God’s beloved, truly God’s very own.

    The Samaritan lives out such a faith in relationship with Jesus,
    which the Jesuit John Kavanaugh describes thus:
    And Christ, having healed ten, 
    saw something greater in the one Samaritan 
    who made time to come back, 
    fall at his feet, and praise God. 
    He saw the splendor of a human heart 
    that believes it is loved, 
    that accepts the gift. 
    Such faith not only brings salvation. 
    It is the gift back to God, 
    so enchanting that God would die for love of it.”

    Could it be that God who loves us
    wishes for nothing more than to be delighted with our thanksgiving,
    no matter how small or how large?

    Is it possible then
    that God whose sole desire is to save us
    is more interested in our gratitude than anything else? 

    If this is truly God's heart-felt yearning,
    wouldn't it be wise for you and me
    to embrace the Samaritan’s way of being grateful,
    for, as my friend John Baldovin once said,
    with much good humour but profound insight, 
    “gratitude is the attitude.”



    preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: themotherco.com


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  4. Year C / 27th  Sunday / Ordinary Time 
    Readings: Habakkuk 1.2-3;2.2-4 / Psalm 95 (R/v 8) / Timothy 1.6-8, 13-14 / Luke 17.5-10


    I have been watching little Jimmy learning 
    to ride his bicycle these past few weeks.
    He has been practicing to do it with his father 
    in the Brighton campus carpark of Boston College.

    I’d see them in the afternoons at about four, 
    usually as I walk back from school,
    enjoying the late summer warmth changing into this early fall cool,
    and marveling at the green leaves bursting 
    into hues of reds and yellows, of rust and gold.

    Yesterday, I paused a little longer to watch little Jimmy and his dad.
    This was going to be the day, the big day 
    when Jimmy would ride 
    without those two small supporting wheels attached to his rear wheel,
    that he needed at the beginning and was slowly but surely graduating from. 

    Little Jimmy strapped on his helmet securely.
    He mounted his bike. He looked down at his rear wheel, free of those supports.
    He looked a little hesitant: his lips pursed; his forehead a little knotted.
    He looked at his Dad beckoning him ride across the empty carpark.
    "You can do it, buddy!" "Just do it!"
    Trusting his Dad, Jimmy smiled, put his right leg on the pedal
    and pressing down, got off to a flying start! And he laughed gleefully!

    "Just do it," Jimmy’s dad assured him

    Just do it is also what I’d like to suggest 
    is Jesus’ message for us this afternoon about having faith.

    "Increase our faith," the apostles ask Jesus.
    They ask him for more faith to better live out their discipleship
    which Jesus has been challenging them about
    in the gospel readings we have heard proclaimed these past few Sundays.

    Challenges by Jesus 
    to share personal wealth with others and not exclude them,
    to choose God and God’s ways over any other attractive distractions,
    to always seek out the lost and to forgive those who have sinned against us,
    and, in the few lines that precede today’s reading, 
    to safeguard ourselves from failing and leading others into sin.

    It is reasonable then that they would ask 
    for more faith to better live as Jesus’ disciples.
    We, who have heard these same teachings,
    and want to live as better Christians,
    would do well to also ask for a similar increase in our faith. 

    But Jesus teaches us today that such a request 
    shouldn’t be about asking for more faith, 
    more as in a quantity to be added or subtracted.
    Faith cannot be measured as an amount. 

    Rather, he teaches us 
    that to ask for more faith has everything to do with the quality of how we live it.
    Faith is really is about the way we live in right relationship with God and one another.

    This is what Jesus highlights when he speaks 
    about the relationship of the master and the servant 
    that ends our gospel reading.

    Jesus wanted his apostles then, and us today,
    to embrace the attitude of the servants
    who, upon completing their assigned tasks obediently,
    say, “we have done as we are to do.”

    Perhaps, like me,
    your present-day sensibilities regarding equality, justice and fairness 
    leave you feeling uncomfortable, confused 
    and may be, even disappointed and angry
    with Jesus’ example.

    But to the people of Jesus’ time, 
    this example made sense because
    it expressed the right thing to do in such a relationship:
    servants are to be attentive to the master and his needs.
    The moral of this example is, just do the right thing.

    By inviting his disciples to understand faith in terms of doing the right thing,
    Jesus is schooling them in the proper way 
    to live out their faith in relationship with God:
    it is to live out one's faith by trusting in God’s life-giving action in their lives.
    Jesus invites us to do likewise.

    To practice faith in this way
    is to practice faith by being alert, attentive and responsive 
    to God’s many invitations in our lives
    to live more trustingly, more fully, more authentically in God’s ways.
    This is how we can cooperate with God to mature our faith.

    Practicing faith like this does not increase or add any more to our faith.
    Rather, it makes it more alive.  And it grows the faith we already have.

    And the faith we already have, however much or however little, 
    is good enough faith for us to be in relationship with God, Jesus insists.

    This is his message when he answers the apostles’ request for more faith,
    not with a promise of adding a few more ounces or a lot more pounds,
    but with the seemingly confusing response of the parable of the mustard seed.

    “If you have the faith of a mustard seed,” Jesus teaches,
    much more can happen, even the most surprising,
    because the faith we already have cannot not move God to act for our good.
    And experiencing God’s goodness for us cannot not grow our faith.

    The smallness that a mustard seed is 
    must grow into nothing other than the biggest of bushes 
    God created the mustard bush to be.

    Likewise, the gift of faith we have, like the apostles had, 
    is meant to grow. And grow it will. 

    First, when it moves us to ask for an increase in our faith.
    Whether we ask for this increase
    because of a desire to be better Christians,
    or because the situations of pain and suffering, 
    of grief and despair we find ourselves in move us to reach out to God,
    all of us who ask for more faith 
    have taken that first step to cooperate with God
    who always stirs us up to make our faith more alive.

    So, how are we to do this? 
    How are we to live and grow our faith,
    as Jesus invites us to do this afternoon?

    Our responsorial psalm offers two wise ways to do this:
    to listen to God’s voice 
    and to not harden our hearts but to open it more to God’s actions.

    I’d like to think that Jesus, being the good and faithful Jew that he was,
    and who knew the Jewish scriptures well, heard this advice 
    and practiced it so as deepen his relationship with God.
    And with God’s help, he grew his faith in time and season.
    We who follow Jesus would do well to do likewise.

    I’d like to also think this how little Jimmy gained confidence to ride his bicycle.
    As he learnt to cycle first with four wheels and then with two,
    the faith he had that he could do it became more real, more alive.
    And, I’d like to think too, as I watched him and his dad,
    that Jimmy’s faith deepened because
    after a fall or two, and some scrapes, 
    he knew his father would always be there for him.
    Such is faith.

    And such can be our faith too.
    We don’t really need to ask for more faith; 
    we just need to practice it more.
    Now, wouldn’t it be wise and Christian, then,
    for us in the days ahead to do just that?



    preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo by marco ugarte/associated press

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"Bukas Palad"
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is Filipino for open palms
Greetings!
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Peace and welcome, dear friend.
I hope you will find in these posts something that speaks to you of the God who loves us all and who always holds us in the palm of his hand. Blessings!
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Fall in Love, Stay in Love
Fall in Love, Stay in Love

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute way final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

Pedro Arrupe, sj, Superior General, 1965 - 1983

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is a 50something Catholic who resides in Singapore and works for the Church. He is a priest of the Roman Catholic Church.
Disclaimer
Disclaimer
©adrian.danker.sj, 2006-2018

The views I express in these pages are personal. They do not speak for the Society of Jesus or the Catholic Church.
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