1. Year B / Lent / 1st Sunday
    Readings: Genesis 9.8-15 / Psalm 25.4-5, 6-7, 8-9 / Peter 3.18-22 / Mark 1.12-15



    I have often wondered what it would be like to be banished from the Garden of Eden like Adam and Eve, or to be exiled from home. What would I feel? What would I think? What would I do next? Where would I be?

    I think I’d find myself in a space of barrenness and desolation. It would be a miserable, dark space of loneliness and harshness. It would be space marked by nothingness, pregnant perhaps with the dreadful promise of death. 

    The closest experience I think any of us could have of this is to get lost in the desert. Has anyone here experienced this? I doubt. But I suspect we have all—at one time or another—found ourselves lost in, or at least meandered aimlessly about, the deserts of our broken hearts, our anxious-ridden minds, our frighten imaginations, our disoriented lives. 

    And in these desert-like spaces, haven’t you and I experience vulnerability? Haven’t we felt exiled or cut-off from all our comforts and our securities, even from those we depend on to walk with us and to love us? I am sure that none of us wishes to find ourselves in such desert spaces where we struggle to simply exist, not even flourish. 

    But we don’t find ourselves in such deserts in our lives, whether interiorly or externally, whether briefly or longterm? May be, as we begin Lent, some of us are in such a desert space or two.

    The desert is where we find Jesus on this 1st Sunday of Lent. The Spirit drives him into the desert to pray and to fast for forty days. 

    By depriving himself of the humanly familiar, comfortable and secure, Jesus becomes hungry in body, needy in want, and lacking in physical prowess. These are his vulnerabilities of being in the desert. 

    In such a state, Satan tempts Jesus to overcome these by focusing on his own self, on his own needs, on his own power, not on God. But Jesus rejects Satan’s temptations. 

    Led by God’s Spirit, Jesus’ retreat into the desert is in fact his graced entry into a space that is not barren or despairing. Rather, the desert is paradoxically a holy space, a providential space where he encounters God. It is in this encounter that God empowers Jesus to live more fully in God’s ways and with God’s life. 

    In the Old Testament, the desert is that anointed space where God calls a person out of the world. There, with nothing but the expanse of silence that God uses to cloak, such a person finds himself wrapped into the solitude of communion with God. It is in such an embrace that God has spoken tenderly to such persons as the prophets that he drew into the desert. 

    Why this space? Because here God speaks words of tenderness and truth that draw such a person into a renewed awareness about: who God is—divine and holy; who he is—human and in need of salvation; and  how God’s love in his life will indeed save. Indeed, the desert is always God’s space to re-create this person and his relationship with God anew.

    We see something of this truth in today’s gospel story. More significantly, we see how Jesus in his weaknesses in the desert is in fact remarkably open to God, whose Spirit is already at work within him. 

    What can Jesus’ entry into the desert, and his discovery of God’s power within him, mean for us as we begin our Lenten journey this year? I’d like to suggest that Jesus’ actions in the desert can teach us how to grow in spiritual authenticity

    Like Jesus, I believe you and I are being invited by God’s Spirit within us this Lent to enter more honestly into the desert spaces of our lives. And there, in these grace-filled desert spaces, for us to find God already waiting to help us reclaim the spiritual authenticity of who you and I are to God: not sinful but beloved and worthy to be redeemed for who we are, God’s own.

    But this authenticity is something we always struggle to see, to know and to proclaim truly. This is because when we are in those desert spaces of our lives, we find ourselves caught up in a masquerade.  

    We put on and take off of masks that hide our truest selves. We pretend to be someone else for varied occasions and with diverse persons. We run away from our pain and suffering. We deny ourselves the happiness we should have. And sometimes, we even give up our birthright of who we are, God’s children.  

    If there is an invitation Lent is extending to us, it is to enter more honestly into these desert spaces where we are inauthentic because there with Jesus we can begin to recover our true selves. We would therefore be very wise to listen to his cry, “This is the time of fulfilment  The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.”

    The Lenten practices of prayer, alms-giving and fast offer us concrete spiritual responses to follow Jesus’ call. They can help us to re-examine our lives more honestly before our loving God whose only desire in Jesus is to save and perfect us for fullness of life with Godself. 

    Sometimes, we practise these Lenten observances well; at other times, we do them miserably. But, practice them we must because they can help us to strip ourselves of all those masks that we wear in our desert spaces. And stripping ourselves completely, they enable us to stand naked before God.  

    Isn’t nakedness, then, the remarkable reality of who we are authentically to God—God’s little ones, created in innocence and holiness? Created to do nothing less than to love, to praise and to serve God? And like every child's father, doesn't God want to nurture and strengthen us in our nakedness to live life well and happily together with God, not just now but eternally? 

    If you, like me, want to answer these questions with a “yes,” then, the right move we must make in these Lenten days is not to run away from but to retreat more courageously and more honestly into those desert spaces of our lives.

    After all, isn’t it in the deserts of our lives, that you and I, like Jesus, can reclaim our spiritual authenticity as God's own, always worthy to be loved into salvation?



    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: from the Internet (www.theculturemap.com)

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  2. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 6 / Tuesday
    Readings: Genesis 6.5-8; 7.1-5, 10 / Responsorial Psalm 28 / Mark 8.14-21


    “Do you still not understand?”

    I wonder how we would each react if Jesus says this to us who encounter his loving action in our lives daily, and who may not see it and get it still, like the disciples to whom Jesus addressed this question once to.

    In today’s gospel story, after two miraculous feedings, the disciples are fretting over the fact that they failed to bring along enough food. Jesus’ many questions to the disciples betray his exasperation with their dim-wittedness. “Don’t you get it?” is what Jesus is really trying to tell them.

    In this story, Jesus instructs them to beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod. He does this not because he expects them to bake bread and wants them to be sure to get the right brand of yeast. Rather,  by talking about bread and leaven in today’s gospel story, Jesus is inviting his disciples and us to focus on God’s many interventions into our daily lives to establish God’s reign in our world. Jesus message is: God will provide what is needed for that to happen. No one else but God can do this.

    We all know that leaven is one way to make things happen. It causes dough to rise and grape juice to become wine. It is leaven that causes the transformation; not our human action. Yet all too often we want to be in control, we want to engineer the change, we want to ensure all things turn out right in our care. Isn’t this true of how we sometimes understand our Christian mission of getting the job done well, or our Christian life of always getting it right?

    But today Jesus’ words and actions teach us otherwise: that as far as God’s reign in our lives and in the world is concern, it cannot be us who will make the change. It is God. Yes, the reign of God will come; it will come through God’s power. We have to let it. We have to hope for it. And, as Jesus taught us in the Lord’s Prayer, we have to pray for it. 

    If the disciples failed to grasp what Jesus was about and how his actions will establish the reign of God and allow it to shine forth, can you and I be so sure that we have it all figured out—this “all” being how we want to bring about God’s reign in our lives and the lives of others? 

    Lent begins tomorrow. This is the Church’s annual invitation to us to renew our relationship with God. This time is not so much a time for pious practices, as it is about  helping us get the proper perspective on our priorities and preconceptions in relation to God’s ways. And then recognizing honestly how much each of us needs to realign our lives to God’s life, we would be wise to humble ourselves and to ask God to help us see things as God sees them. 

    This is why it is very good that we gather on this last evening before Lent to hear and pray these words of Jesus, “Do you still not understand?” They are not harsh words, as they are challenging words. As we enter into Lent, I believe they can better guide our focus onto the kind of Lenten renewal God wishes for each of us. But we cannot focus well unless we dare to surrender ourselves into God’s hands; then we might truly understand how God’s actions in our lives always redeems us to share God's life fully, not in some distant future to come but now. 



    Preached at the Lasalle Brothers’ Community, SJI
    Photo: amandamarkel.com

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  3. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 6 / Sunday
    Readings: Leviticus 13.1-2, 44-46/ Responsorial Psalm 31. 1-2,5,11 (R/v 7) / I Corinthians 10.31-11.1 / Mark 1.40-45

    We’ve all seen those advertisements about washing detergents. They guarantee to clean and remove the most deep-down, hard-to-remove stains, like ink blotches, greasy curry splashes, coffee marks and mud smears. 

    Consider the claims they make. “Kao Attack: Makes Clothes Cleaner, Softer and Easier to Iron.” “Tide: For a Brilliant Clean Every Time.” “Breeze: Power Clean; Removes Stains.” Yes, they all promise to make our clothes brighter, fresher and clean again.

    “To make clean” is a theme in today’s readings. It is a good theme for our reflection as we approach Lent -- this time when God invites us to make ourselves clean again by letting God realign our lives to God’s ways. This is why today’s theme offers us the opportunity to reflect on the kind of Christian life we are living today.

    The leper is the image of uncleanness in our first reading. He has to be cast out and avoided because in ancient times any form of skin disease -- which the word ‘leprosy’ denotes -- was considered contagious and deadly. The Israelites feared that all skin disorders could infect others, and so harm the community’s health. Their fear was rooted in an interpretation that physical deformities and mental illness were signs of God’s displeasure. This is why Moses who had the authority of God declared that people who suffered from these ailments had to be rejected, excluded, and alienated. 

    Haven’t we sometimes had a leper-like experience? Haven’t we found our ideas and suggestions rejected no matter how well intentioned they are?  Haven’t others who are afraid of our race, nationality or language excluded us? Haven’t we been looked down because of how much we are earning or the kind of education we have? Haven’t others among us ridiculed us for our body shape or our learning difficulties like dyslexia? And, haven’t some of us been treated unjustly because others cannot charitably embrace us in our divorce or separation, our sexual orientation or political bent? 

    These are various ways others unjustly condemn us as unclean. I believe we have all suffered discrimination in one form or another, either in the past or even now. 

    Today’s gospel story of Jesus healing the leper offers us three insights that can help us to live our Christian life better, whether it is the leper-like experience we suffer because of others, or it is the kind of life we live by condemning and excluding others as  lepers.

    First, Jesus’ healing should help us live our Christian lives more faithfully. The leper came to Jesus with a simple hope and faith: “If you wish, you can make me clean.” 

    Jesus’ response was a tender “I do will it. Be made clean.” Jesus did not just say this; he touched the leper to heal him. Jesus’ action expressed the divine yes of God’s loving mercy to make good again all that is unclean in each of us. This truth should help us live more faithfully because we can trust that Jesus will always reach out to heal us in our unworthiness, like he did the leper. 

    Second, Jesus’ healing should challenge us to live our Christian lives more honestly. By healing the leper, Jesus is challenging us to heal and make others clean again in our eyes and in the eyes of others. 

    All too often we judge others bad, wrong, evil, sinful, and unchristian because we are hurt and disappointed by one we love or trust, or we are pained and frustrated by another, or we have simply become unforgiving and hateful towards our enemy. Then, with our intent, words and actions we make them unclean before us and others.  I am ashamed I have hurt others in this way before; you might you’ve done likewise too. Not every Christian, are we?

    Yet today, Jesus graciously shows us how all that it will take to make those we have hurt clean again is to have a merciful and tender heart, like he had for the leper. Such a heart really listens to, tenderly feels for, and compassionately wants to response to another who says, “If you wish, you can make me clean.”  Can you and I do this?

    Jesus responded by healing the leper physically. More significantly, Jesus healed by welcoming him back into and uniting him with the community. Today, Jesus is asking us to heal the people whose own faults, sin, illness make them unclean, or whom we have branded unclean, by going one step further: we are to heal them by welcoming them into our lives and into the life of our community, and never set them apart again. 

    Indeed, Jesus models for us what healing is all: making the unclean clean again so that they are whole and holy. Can you and I do this too?

    Third, Jesus’ healing should empower us to live our Christian lives more joyfully. Like the leper in today’s gospel story, you and I are being invited to present ourselves to Jesus, not as dirty, unclean and rejectable, but as one in need of his healing because he comes not just to be with and amongst us but he who comes to be for us Saviour.  

    Let’s be honest: we will all always be in some state of being stained, soiled and spoilt because of our past or present mistakes and unholy actions. Even here at this Eucharist, some of us come as we are, sinful and struggling. But don't we all come to this Eucharist and to God daring to hope in Jesus’ forgiving and healing love?  If we do, aren't we like the leper who had enough hope to believe that his "If" -- "If I ask Jesus, won't he healed me?" -- will be answered? We might feel like we deserve to be rejected, excluded and abandoned by God because of the smudges of uncleanness in our lives. But like the leper we are saved because God has given us hope  to utter to Jesus, "If you wish, you can make me clean." And we know we can say this because we have all experienced God's presence, not absence, when we turned to him before. If God has done so in the past, how can God ever turn away from us now or in the future?

    A few minutes ago, we sang this responsorial refrain: “I turn to you, Lord, in time of trouble, and you fill me with the joy of salvation.” I believe Jesus hears this hope we have in him who will save us from the hell of our own confinement or the imprisonment we have forced others into. Does Jesus desire to “will it” to heal us? Yes, I believe. If so, we have to answer the more important question: Do we yearn for Jesus to heal us and include us in God’s friendship? 

    What we can do better at all times in our Christian life, then, and especially, at this Eucharist, is to allow Jesus to wash us anew in his grace. All too often, we grow accustomed to our dirt, which is different from our goodness of humanness, even as we work hard at living it better daily.  

    Today’s gospel story is calling us to that necessary honesty of coming before God as we are and helping others to do the same. Together we will come because we believe God desires to free us from those unclean stains, like leprosy, and to heal us for communion with God and community.  

    If we believe in this truth, it must be Jesus – and not the washing detergents promise but can never absolutely remove the most stubborn stains – who is really the one who washes clean. Yes, it is Jesus and no other who will always wash away our most unchristian sins, and make us cleaner, fresher and brighter for God and one another.



    Preached at St Ignatius Church
    Photo: from the Internet (www.motherearthnews.com)

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  4. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 5 / Sunday
    Readings: Job 7.1-4, 6-7  / Responsorial Psalm 147. 1-6 (R/v cf 3a) / I Corinthians 9.16-19, 22-23 / Mark 1.29-39


    “He approached her, grasped her hand, and helped her up.”

    This is how the gospel writer Mark describes Jesus healing Simon Peter’s mother-in-law from her fever. He focuses our attention on Jesus’ touch. We can however miss this detail altogether in today's gospel story  because we are often busy interpreting it in terms of miracles and mission. 

    Touch. It isn’t our usual manner of communicating with one another. 

    We are far more comfortable interacting with words in everyday life.  Words are safe; they allow us to control how we want to express our inner feelings and thoughts.  A touch, on the other hand, can be dangerous: it can say so much more, and it never lies. 

    Isn’t this true of the immeasurable love our parents have for us when they embrace us? Don’t we witness the joy of being intimate when we chance upon a couple kissing? And aren’t we humbled by the tenderness of elderly friends who clasped their hands in care to cross a busy street? 

    I believe we are all aware of how much a touch can say in its silence about the depth of love. This is because we have all come to know another's love in their touch. 

    Yes, don’t we yearned to be touched by another whom we love, be it family or friend? And, don’t we always hope they will touch us because then their love and concern, their friendship and care become real in our lives? Indeed, I know you will agree with me that their touch assures us, as it also enlivens our days. 

    Yet, this touch that we seek is sadly what you and I often find ourselves unable to give to another freely and comfortably in everyday life. How often do we give a loved one a hug or a kiss at the end of the day? Are we honestly comfortable with patting a friend heartily on the back to encourage and affirm? Isn’t it so much easier to say “sorry” than to stretch out our hand to our enemy in reconciliation? I suspect our answers to these questions will betray this truth: we all suffer from a poverty of touch in our lives.

    By showing us how Jesus healed Simon Peter’s sick mother-in-law by approaching, grasping and helping her, Mark teaches us the Christ-like way to overcome this poverty. It involves approaching one and all personally. Jesus healed this woman and the many others in today’s gospel story in the very personal way of touching others to transform their lives.

    Wasn’t Jesus’ ministry all about this? Caring for humanity so that all can experience God transforming their hopelessness into fullness of life? Jesus healed by touching and transforming. This kind of healing is the hope the many sick and possessed in the gospel story came to Jesus for. Mark’s story reminds us that his healing is indeed the hope that transforms and enlivens the human condition. "Drudgery" and "enslavement" are two words Job used to describe the human condition in our first reading. Don’t we sometimes echo Job when we grumble about our daily struggles? But when we do so, do you and I seek out Jesus’ healing?

    If we don’t but we want to, then, you and I should pay attention to Jesus’ way of touching others. Why? Because Jesus shows us how touch is not just a human of being with and for another; it is fundamentally God’s way of being with us, amongst us and for us.

    Touch was so much part of Jesus’ way of being friend and companion, teacher and master, of being savior in our lives. Through his touch — those acts of healing, comforting, and accompanying others that he did — Jesus made God’s great love for many real. Yes, this is how God healed, and continues to heal.  

    I’d like to propose that when we make ourselves more human by touching another, we better embody God’s love in the lives of those we live, work and recreate with. This is how God’s life can come alive in each one of us. Yes, touching another like Jesus is how we become a little more divine by being a lot more human. 

    Today’s good news is that in Jesus you and I have a meaningful example of how to be human: by ministering to another’s deepest longing to be loved by touching them. The good news of God’s love comes alive more through deeds than in words. 

    Think of the saints, of the religious sisters and brothers who taught us, of Pope Francis who embraced the man with boils on his face and body, and of our parents and friends who hold us and kiss us; haven’t they all reached out and touched at one time with the love of God, both in our brightest moments and in our darkest days? 

    And emulating them, haven’t we done likewise too, now and then? I believe these are moments when we humbled ourselves to allow God to make God’s love so much more concrete and real than any homily or Church pronouncement can announce, or any love song or expensive Tiffany ring can convey.

    Perhaps, what humankind truly desires most in today’s trying times of senseless religious persecution, unending strife, continuing discrimination, and unjust poverty is the simple touch of another who genuinely cares. Not that kind of touch that gratifies a physical want or an emotional longing. But that consoling, comforting, caring touch that satisfies that deep yearning in each of us for the love of God.

    And we yearn for this perhaps for no other reason than that we are made to be in touch with God  in touch with our God, who always and everywhere, desires to do nothing less for us than to approach us, to grasp our hands and to help us up.



    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: ‘the touch’ by Russell klika (from the internet)

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"Bukas Palad"
"Bukas Palad"
is Filipino for open palms
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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.
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©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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