1. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 21 - Sunday
    Readings: Isaiah 22.19-24 / Psalm 138 (R/v 8c) / Romans 11.33-36 29-32 / Matthew 16.13-27


    “I am disturbed.”
    “I am disturbed,” declared Jeremiah, a student of ours at SJI. He was answering the Education Minister who visited our school last Tuesday and asked, “What makes studying at SJI special.” “Disturbed,” Jeremiah said, “because SJI opened my eyes to really see the world and to know that I have a responsibility to do something and make it a better place for others, especially those with minority voices.” Jeremiah was referring to his experience of interacting with migrant workers as part of our Lasallian leadership camp. For Jeremiah, this meeting forced him to ask, “What is my Josephian education for?” 

    “I am disturbed.”
    I’d like to imagine that this is how Peter and the apostles might have felt when they were confronted by Jesus’ question, “But who do you say I am?” Disturbed because this encounter, like Jeremiah’s with the migrants, must have challenged them to find an answer about this man they followed.

    As a people of faith, I think it would be small minded of us to interpret Jesus’ question to only be about recognizing or affirming identity. Rather, it is a question that opened up the disciples—as it should also open us up—to relationship. It is an invitation to relationship that can be phrased like this: “Do you want to enter into deeper friendship with me?” And any response we make must invite us to consider the quality of our  self-giving to another.

    We have all experienced this moment: recall how when someone asked you, “Who do you say I am?” and it led to a deeper relationship. Perhaps, it was when an acquaintance in school asked it and a friendship for life began. Or, when your romanticized infatuation with the woman or man of your dreams concretized into that promising reality of committing yourselves and settling down into responsible lifelong partnership. Or, when at the end of life, you and I will ask this same question of our loved ones, trusting that their grateful answer will assure us that we can let go of a Christian life well spent only to enter more fully into God’s eternal embrace. Can you, can I, recall such a moment, such an invitation into deeper friendship? I can with a good Jesuit friend; what about you? 

    “Who do you say I am?” Jesus asked his disciples in today’s gospel story. Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” Peter might have been disturbed by Jesus’ question. He might even have been unsure that he was giving the correct answer. But he nevertheless replied from the depths of his conviction. Peter may not have been fully enlightened at this moment, but he took a stand and declared what he really thought. That was all Jesus wanted. Peter’s conviction was good enough for Jesus to work with, and to transform Peter from a fisherman into a fisher of men and women. 

    I’d like to suggest that Jesus’ question is very good for us too as we continue our Christian journey in ordinary time. It should make us pause and really take stock of our friendship with Jesus. His question comes today at a time when the ordinariness of our everyday life and our liturgical calendar sweeps us along a rhythm of life that seems the same, day in and day out. A rhythm that can also comfortably lure us into complacency: nothing needs mending; everything is fine; I come to Sunday mass; I go to confession if I need to; I pray when I can; I give to the poor when I am asked. 

    Jesus’ question should stop us in our tracks through everyday life because it is demanding an honest evaluation. We are being asked how willing we are and how much we want to let Jesus transform us even more in our everydayness. Our answer will shape the kind of  Christian life we want and the kind of Christian charity we hope to share. 

    The peaks in our liturgical year—the expectant advent joy and the delight of Christmas, the sobriety of Lent reflection and the Easter rejoicing, the solemnities and feast days—always afford us time to reflect and evaluate. But in ordinary time we tend to get carried away by our everyday life, our daily chores and our weekend recreation that we can often forget to attend to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say I am?

    “Who you say I am?” Jesus is asking you and me right here, right now. He wants us to seriously consider how deeply we have entered into friendship with him. Or, whether we are desirous of entering even more. Or, perhaps, why we are standing by, waiting for the right time. Or even, if I am slowly stepping back and away? 

    Wherever we are in our friendship with Jesus, the grace of today’s gospel passage is that this question (which we know so well) is giving us another chance to answer: Who do we say that Jesus is in our lives? What is our conviction about Jesus who promises to be with us to the end? What is our faith in Jesus who has already forgiven us by his death and won for us eternal life by his resurrection? 

    “I am disturbed.”
    I’d like to imagine these are the words you and I will utter if we are truly listening to Jesus asking us, “Who do you say I am?” Why? Because when Jesus asks this question, he leaves himself vulnerable, knowing that we—like the disciples, like the many he preached to and healed—could reject him. His vulnerability should disturb us because as God-with-us he gives himself over to us in trust, believing that in our dignity we will answer freely and rightly, and so let him transform us. All he asks of us, as he once did of Peter, is to take a stand and declare who he is in our lives. 

    I’d like to suggest that our faith would be richer if we begin to appreciate Jesus’ question as his heartfelt invitation for us to enter more deeply into friendship with him. And in this space of relating to one another, we can experience God’s salvation more fully. This involves embracing the saving grace that his question always is. And if you agree with me that the best response we can make to this grace that Jesus’ question is is to do as Peter does and to confess, “You are the Christ,” then, shouldn't we not welcome his question? Jesus’ disturbing but saving question that will transform how we live and what we do as Christians? 

    Perhaps, it is good that we pray this prayer:
    Disturb us, O Lord,when we are too well-pleased with ourselves;when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little;when we have arrived in safety because we sailed too close to the shore. 
    Disturb us, O Lord,when with the abundance of things we possesswe have lost our thirst for the water of life;when, having fallen in love with Time,we have ceased to dream of Eternity;and in our efforts to build the new earth have allowed our vision for the New Heaven to grow dim.
    And then as our prayer draws to its close, wouldn't it right and just for us to end it with this coda:  “Yes, Jesus, you do disturb me, and it is very good that you do. Amen”?




    Preached at St Ignatius' Church, Singapore
    photo: from Internet

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  2. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 20 - Sunday
    Readings: Isaiah 56.1, 6-7 / Psalm 66 (R/v 4) / Romans 11.13-15, 29-32 / Matthew 15.21-28

    Among the group of us who shared university lodgings, Thomas always had an answer to every question we asked. His answers were logical in their reasoning, succinct in their explanation, eloquent in their persuasion. When we discussed recycling our empty bottles, he instructed, “Return them to the liquor shop and get the cash.” Though there were other alternatives, Thomas insisted that his answer was the right one. Until an old woman collecting recyclables knocked on our door and asked, “What if you gave me your bottles so I can get some cash to pay for my sick husband’s medication?”

    “What if?”  Don’t you and I ask this question too?
    “What if you had taken that job offer, wouldn’t we be better off today?”
    “What if they had married, wouldn’t they happier in their old age and not alone?
    “What if I had accepted my difference, wouldn’t I be freer from your hatred of me?

    “What if?” We struggle to answer this question now and again. For some, it makes us regret our past. For others, it cheers us up because of what we now have. And there others for whom it raises the possibility of a better, happier life. We, however, tend to dismiss this question too quickly.

    But as Christians we would be foolish not to attend to these “What if?” moments. From a faith perspective, these moments can open up our limited, human point of view to the infinite, boundless horizon of God working in our lives.

    This is the lesson our gospel story offers us. We find it in Jesus’ interaction with the Canaanite woman. 

    Jesus enters Tyre and Sidon, Gentile territory. A Canaanite woman approaches him to heal her sick daughter. He ignores her. She continues pleading. He pauses.

    At this moment you and I would expect this scene to play out as it usually does in the cut-and-dry miracle story we are all familiar with. The woman would plead some more; the disciples would continue scoffing; Jesus would then heal. And we will learn, again, that God’s love saves. 

    But this is not how Matthew’s story unfolds. In fact, Jesus appears callous: "Ma'am," he says, "I'm here to feed the children of Israel, not the Canaanites. Not you. It's not fair to take the children's bread and feed it to the dogs, now is it?" Jesus knows that his God-given mission is to announce God’s presence to the Jews, God’s chosen people, and giving food for life is one way God provides for them. His mission isn’t to the Canaanites, Jesus answers the woman’s request bluntly. 

    Isn’t Jesus’ behaviour confusing? This is not Jesus the caring teacher, the merciful preacher, the compassionate healer that we know. As puzzling as Jesus’ action is, we must really focus our gaze on his action after listening to the woman and not on his initial action of rejecting her. It is Jesus' later action that we must be concerned with.

    What Jesus listens to is the woman's deep faith; she speaks about her utter trust in God’s certain providence for her, a non-Jew. Dogs need to eat, she tells him, and they will eat the crumbs from the master's table. God’s food, no matter how little, she teaches Jesus, is also for the Canaanites. Moved by her faith, Jesus praises her and he cures her daughter.

    I’d like to suggest that this scene is a “What if?” moment in Jesus’ life and ministry. “What if this woman is challenging me to love as God loves, without limits, without borders, without restrictions?” “As sure as I am about my mission, what if God is inviting me through her to broaden my horizon of who God is--the God of all--and what God wants me to do--bring salvation for all?” Perhaps, Jesus asked himself these questions in his humanity and in this moment. They are the very human questions of one who is intimately involved with God. They are questions an anyone who loves God is trying to answer by paying attention to God’s action in his life so as to better follow God’s will.

    And don’t you and I do likewise in that Ignatian exercise of finding God in all things? Here is Jesus doing what we know and practice as this exercise: pausing in silence; listening carefully to God speaking through the people and events of the day; and allowing God to take more control and lead our lives. And Jesus did this without clinging on any longer to his earlier answer of what he thought his mission was solely about.

    In this encounter with the Canaanite woman, Jesus shows us what the proper attitude must be for us in a “What if?” moment. If we honestly want to discern God’s presence and God’s invitation to act as God wishes, then, this attitude must be rooted in, and also have the form of, Jesus’ trusting openness that God will always find him--and us--first in life’s uncertainties. 

    In the interview, A Big Heart Open to God, Pope Francis elaborates on this attitude. “If one has the answers to all the questions--that is proof that God is not with him. It means that he is a false prophet using religion for himself.” Instead, he must “leave room for the Lord, not for our certainties,” because God will always search us out in our uncertainties to meet us, and so save us into the fullness of life, Francis adds.

    Yes, Jesus lives out this spiritual insight in today’s gospel story. As his followers, we would be wise to go and do likewise in our “What if?” moments. Why? Not just because Jesus did so. But because as discomforting, painful and wasted an occasion as a “What if?” moment can be, what we in fact have in this moment is God’s graced possibility of much more for us. 

    We often try to ignore such moments with excuses like "Oh, I just don't have time for this," "Been there; done that; nothing to gain," "Well, it’s a waste of time, again." However, if we pay attention to the attitude Jesus had towards the Canaanite woman, we might appreciate God’s deepest desire for us to be happy. 

    Jesus better discovered God and God’s will for him in the humanity of his “What if?” questions when he encountered the Canaanite woman. Like him, God will meet us in our own “What if” moments, especially, if it involves another person in need. God does so in order that we can experience and know God’s sure and saving presence in the uncertainties and doubts of our “What ifs?” 

    However, we cannot experience, know and testify to this truth of God’s saving action unless we humble ourselves first. This involves letting go of the answer we want to cling on to: it can never be the best or the most comprehensible answer before God because I am selfishly and arrogantly clinging on to it instead of listening to God's better answer for me. Letting go is therefore how you and I will find out that the true answers to our questions come from God and God alone. 

    Let us be bold and do this because we can then begin to catch a glimpse of God's vision for us and our world. It is of a place where grace comes to us in the most unexpected ways: where the smallest speak with the loudest voices; the powerful act with humility; where scraps are good enough for a simple feast; and where even empty bottles can give a sick man hope. 




    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: www.labelproductions.com

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  3. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 19 – Sunday (Singapore’s National Day)
    Readings: 1 Kings 19.9a, 11-13. / Psalm 85 (R/v 8) / Romans 9.1-5 / Matthew 14.22-33


    “Emily: ‘There is no one I’d rather sit beside. Will you marry me?’ Tom.”

    “Celebrating Phoebe’s Favorite Playground. Love Mom, Dad and Carter.”

    “…and baby makes three. Katherine Anne, born 2 August 2013.”

    “For Greg Myers on his retirement. With gratitude from Greenbridge Partners.”

    These lines—and many others like these—are engraved onto countless brass plates on numerous benches throughout Central Park in New York City. Over several visits to Central Park, I’ve learnt to pay attention to these inscriptions. They give me a glimpse into the lives and stories of countless New Yorkers.

    Reading about Central Park in a National Geographic spread as a teenager and watching movies that featured it as a backdrop gave me an idealized picture of this space. But these inscriptions have taught me that the real story of Central Park lies in the details these engravings carry. They speak of how New Yorkers relate to this space and, more significantly, to one another. And, I’ve also learnt that I don’t really know a space or a person until I look out for the small details that make up this place or are part of another's life. And paying attention is the way to do this.

    This lesson of paying attention to small details is what our first reading teaches us. God instructs Elijah to listen for God’s word. Like many of us, Elijah is expecting to hear God in a way that loudly and clearly proclaims, “I am here.” But Elijah doesn’t find God in the wind, earthquake, and fire. Instead, God comes to him in “a tiny whispering sound,” in this smallest of details.
    Elijah’s experience should challenge you and me to pay more attention to finding God in the small details of our everyday life that we deem ordinary and we often overlook. Like finding ourselves alive each morning. Like having health to go about our daily chores at home, at school and at work. Like coming home safe at day’s end to family and friends.

    A couple of years ago, I accompanied an elderly widower regularly in spiritual direction. He was grieving his wife who had just died. And he was struggling to find God who seemed absent in his loss.

    One Saturday afternoon, he was preparing a fruit salad to bring to his neighborhood luncheon. He cut up watermelon and rockmelon. He threw them into his wife’s favourite blue glass bowl. He added strawberries and blueberries, pineapple and oranges. He sprinkled some sugar and nutmeg, and added a dash of Kahlua. Then, as he tossed the fruit, he sensed God standing next to him. Very present; every real.

    He was surprised yet assured. He looked up; the kitchen seemed brighter. Life suddenly felt better. He took a deep breath. Then, he carried on, tossing the fruit, God’s earthly food for daily sustenance, for daily joy. And he smiled.

     God met this gentle widower in the small detail of preparing a fruit salad, in the very ordinary details of his kitchen and in the everyday detail of going about his life.

    Can you recall an incident when God met you amidst the details of your life, no matter how messy they were, and labored for your wellbeing? Perhaps, it was your spouse’s forgiveness for a disappointment made. Or, your doctor’s assurance that the medical checkup went well. Or, as one of our SJI students experienced after completing the cross-country run yesterday morning, yes, life does indeed get better, as his teacher promised him, after he and his team lost at a competition on Thursday night.

    Indeed, paying attention to God’s goodness in the small details of our lives can help us to know the depth of God’s fidelity in the larger details of our lives. Like discerning a significant life decision such as marriage or migrating elsewhere. Like making a moral decision when someone we love nears death. Like reconciling your conscience with the judgment others have made that you are bad for disagreeing with the Church. In such moments, God who is faithful to us in small things will always be ever more faithful to us in the bigger details of life, I believe. 

    Our gospel reading offers us this assuring hope too. The disciples on the boat, battered by the wind and tossed about by the storm, learn that Jesus does come to rescue them into God’s safe embrace. And he comes to them on the same stormy waters that are besieging them. Such is Jesus who promises to be with us to the end of time; he will come to us in the very struggles we have. He will save us as he saved Peter: by lifting us up because he does not just see fear and doubt in us; he sees more. He sees our earnest desire, like Peter, to want to be with him so that we can follow him to know God and to be with God eternally.

    Christian faith is to help us live this life well. The proper form it must have is the hope-filled discipleship we ought to have with Jesus. It is indeed hope-filled because we learn from Jesus how to find God in the details of our life, like he taught his disciples through his preaching and he showed them through his miracles.

    Paying attention to the small details in our everyday life. Finding God’s goodness in these small, even ordinary, details. Knowing that God is faithful both in the small and big details of our lives through Jesus, with Jesus and in Jesus.

    These are three lessons our readings providentially offer us on National Day. I would like to suggest that they can empower us to better live the Christian faith as nationals and guests in Singapore in the following ways.

    First, by remembering how God is always present in our midst. Whether we call Singapore ‘nation’ as citizens or ‘work space’ as friends working here, Singapore is home. And it is home not only because we share it with family and friends but because God resides here with you and me. This land is God’s space; and God has graced it with God’s goodness. We need to ask ourselves now and again, “Do I believe that God is equally present in secular Singapore society, as I am told God is in the Christian spaces we call church, mission schools, families?”

    Second, by celebrating God’s goodness in the many details of Singaporean life. Today, we can give thanks for communal happiness and peace, economic prosperity, and progress in so many areas. But our celebrations will be more delightful if we can acknowledge gratefully God’s goodness in the Singaporean way we live. Like being friends with people from other races and religion. Like having ample, cheap hawker food to eat. Like not worrying about portable water, internet connection, electricity. It is good then for us to ask ourselves everyday, “How am I responding to God’s goodness that I encounter daily as I live the Singapore way?”

    Third, by believing in God’s faithfulness as we continue to evolve as a Singaporean society. In recent years, we have been asking ourselves important questions about government and the opposition, about inclusivity and xenophobia, about fairness and non-discrimination, about family values and individual rights. We participate in this dialogue not only as citizens but also and always as Christians. For us, God and God’s way of loving as Jesus did, especially to the poor and the enemy, must be for reconciliation and fellowship among each and every Singaporean, and not for division that some of us who advocate religious self-righteousness can cause. We must always and honesty ask ourselves, “Can I let God lead and show us how Singapore is to evolve as God wishes in ways that are democratic, just and egalitarian?”

    Perhaps, when we can answer these questions—honestly and gratefully—for ourselves and for each other, we will begin to inscribe into our hearts—not onto brass plates on park benches—the loving details of God who is always present in the small details of our everyday lives. Then, we can share generously with one another, whether citizen or guest, the good news that God is indeed with us and loving us into fullness of life on this little red dot we call Singapore.



    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    Photo: Internet


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  4. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 18 - Sunday
    Readings: Isaiah 55.1-3 / Psalm 144 (cf v16) / Romans 8.35, 37-39 / Matthew 14.13-21
    I first met Tita Lina when I was assigned as a young Jesuit to live with her and her family at Navotas for a summer immersion. 

    Navotas skirts Manila Bay. Many poorer Filipinos like Tita Lina and her family stay there. Many of the adults hold simple jobs. Many of the young go to school hoping for a brighter future. A large number of them work overseas as domestic helpers or construction workers; Tita Lina's daughter is one of them. Most of their homes are built with wooden boards and zinc sheets, often on silts over the waters that are no longer blue and clean. Overhead, power lines snake in between these homes. Needless to say, this situation is a fire hazard; there have been a few electrical fires in which some have lost their homes repeatedly.

    I often remember Tita Lina because of her generosity with food. The first time I met her, she served me pancit malabon, a Filipino noodle dish. Throughout my stay with her and her family that summer, she made sure I had plenty to eat daily, even though they were poor. Their meals for me were generously served; their own portions were much less.

    As much as I associate Tita Lina with food, so have the gospels depicted Jesus with food. In the gospels, we read of Jesus sharing food with others as often as he is praying, teaching and doing miracles. In John’s Gospel, Jesus identifies himself as the real food we need for eternal life: he says to us, "I am the Bread of Life."

    We know the importance of food. It nourishes, comforts and brings pleasure. It fills us up–sometimes, we fill ourselves far too much with it. We also know what happens when we don’t have food, or enough of it. We get cranky and confused. Some might lose our way, become disoriented and lose balance. Yes, food is basic to human existence; it is necessary for human life; and it essential to our wellbeing. 

    Matthew’s narration of Jesus feeding the many by multiplying and loaves and fishes that is today's gospel story tells another story of food. That with God there will always be lots of food. In fact, so much food that there will always be more than enough left over!

    But the real surprise about God’s excessive provision of food is not that it is like food for fine-dining, or for satisfaction at a buffet or for indulgence at a banquet. It isn’t even food for a meal. Rather, it is food to tide one over, food for a day’s journey, food to just get by. The food in our gospel story today is the basic “fill-the-hole-in-your-stomach” kind of food. It is food to take the edge off our daily anxieties. Food to survive each day’s struggle. Food to know we do have just enough and it is good. Food to end the day with gratefully. 

    But God could not have fed the crowd if Jesus had not been interrupted. Jesus had withdrawn to a lonely place to be by himself after learning that his cousin, John the Baptist, had been beheaded. He needed time and space to grieve, to remember, to pray. Anyone in pain would want this. But the crowds came to him, following him on foot from their towns. The disciples interrupted him with news about the crowds. And he fed them till they were satisfied.

    Does the interruption Jesus experienced resonate with you? Isn’t this disturbance a familiar experience you and I have had as we tried to find time to rest, to have a few minutes alone, to get some space at the end of a busy day, at the close of a tiring week? I believe anyone with a demanding job, family obligations and social responsibilities can identify with Jesus’ experience. Being interrupted is in fact how we live daily: many of us become so involved in what we’re doing that we don’t want to be interrupted or distracted, and so we ignore what and who is nudging us for attention. And nudge us they always will: with phone calls, whatsapp messaging, Facebook posts; with cornering us on the corridor at work or in the Gathering Space after this Mass, or even by buzzing our doorbells, if they are really desperate. 

    How should we respond as Jesus’ followers to those who interrupt us? The disciples wanted to send the crowd away, to go and buy food for themselves.  But Jesus taught them, as he teaches us today, an important insight into life’s interruptions. 

    “There is no need for them to go away," Jesus said. “Give them some food yourselves.” He must have known that his disciples would scramble when they see that they didn't have enough.  But I believe he wanted them to encounter their own poverty as God’s richness in their lives.  He wanted them to draw from the little they thought they had so that he could teach them that their poverty was good enough for others. 

    Five loaves and two fish. By their calculation, not enough to feed the crowds. But in Jesus’ eyes, five loaves and two fish was good enough for him to take, to give thanks, to praise God for them and to break and give them as food that feeds, satisfies and saves the many. 

    What we judge as human poverty and brokenness is for Jesus good and rich enough to be transformed into God’s abundance. I’d like to suggest that this is the wisdom our gospel story offers us today. Wisdom because it assures us that the little we have is already enough—indeed, it is God’s abundance—to share with each and everyone on our Christian journey. 

    But we will never appreciate this wisdom until we learn from Jesus about what more interruptions can be: not annoying disturbances, but opportunities for grace.  Jesus sought time and space apart for himself. He was interrupted. His response? With grace and care, he found food and fed the hungry. However, this happened, all were satisfied with God’s food that Jesus multiplied to feed their hunger from the disciples’ five loaves and two fish. Today, Jesus shows us that interruptions are indeed occasions to bear witness to the God in our midst.

    You and I will always have to manage interruptions; it's part of the rhythm of our everydayness. Our children will constantly ask for attention. Workmates and classmates will, now and again, demand for help. A driver with a flat tire will wave us down. A stranger will ask for directions. Church volunteers will plead for donations. What will you do? How will you respond?

    After my summer immersion, Tita Lina responded to the unexpected visits my brother Jesuits and I made with food. No matter how many times we interrupted her, she always made sure that there was food for us. Sometimes, it was rice and chicken adobo; at other times, it was rice and kare-kare. Now and again, there would be dessert like bibingka or ube halaya. 

    But there was always the abundance of more than food with Tita Lina: there was blessing given and received; there was goodwill shared; there was the possibility of sharing life and faith. Indeed, our interruptions matured into something we never imagined, friendship. 

    Our gospel story today is indeed about food. But it is also about interruption, about blessing, about goodwill, about possibility. Jesus fed not only to fill hungry bodies but also to enliven their spirits. This is what Tita Lina’s little food became in our lives: the richness of God’s feast friends share as communion. And isn’t this not what you and I will experience shortly when the smallness of each consecrated host we consume transforms us into the glory of the one body of Christ we were created to become?

    Indeed, if the promise of a generous response to a bothersome interruption is not about managing life’s challenge but about entering into life’s opportunity to more fully experience God’s goodness, then, shouldn’t you and I pay more attention when we are interrupted the next time in life?



    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: from the internet


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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
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"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.
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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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