1. Year C / Ordinary Time / Week 26 / Sunday
    Readings: Amos 6.1a, 4-7/ Psalm 146. 6c-7, 8-9a, 9bc-10 (R/v 1b) / Timothy 6.11-16 / Luke 16.19-31


    This art piece is entitled Bon Apétit. It is a paper cut by Victoria Teng. She studies at St Joseph’s Institution (SJI) in our International Baccalaureate Programme. You will see hands: they represent people involved in heartwarming exchanges of food, drink and conversation at a meal. But Victoria has also cut out cracks and gaps to symbolize divisions between people. 

    In life, we would rather ignore such divisions. We would much prefer to turn a blind eye to them, these elephants in the room. In the English Language, “the elephant in the room” is a metaphoric idiom for an obvious truth or problem or risk that no one wants to name or discuss. 

    Yet we all have an elephant, or two, in all our lives. We desperately try to cover up these elephants. We shy away from admitting them, and we often ignore them as best as we can, like they are not there. Sometimes, we cleverly talk about these elephants through another person’s experience of them.

    Today, Jesus is challenging us to confront these elephants in our lives. He does so using the parable of the rich man and Lazarus he teaches in Luke’s gospel.

    We are familiar with this parable. We know its moral teaching: beware the dangers of wealth and power; it leads to damnation. Here is a rich man who lives an entitled life, with no room in his life for the poor like Lazarus. He does not care to feed them. He does not reach out to welcome them, nor share his wealth.

    No matter how hard-hearted we can be towards one another, our hearts are naturally predisposed to empathize. This is why man of us would applaud the parable’s ending: the rich man in death is banished from the bountiful goodness that Lazarus now shares with Abraham. As Christians, we have no trouble embracing Jesus’ teaching about this reversal of the rich man’s fortune and status with Lazarus. The rich man’s selfishness has made his heart hard; he has no mercy or care for the poor. Now he is paying for his sinfulness. He is cast into the netherworld to live his afterlife; he is separated from the heavenly. God’s right and just punishment, some of us would insist.

    What divides the rich man from Lazarus at the parable’s conclusion is a chasm that Abraham says cannot be crossed. There is irony here for there was an earlier chasm that the rich man could have crossed and so saved his life. He could have bridged it by reaching out to care for Lazarus.

    Jesus teaches this parable to effect a change. He wants the Pharisees to hear and change so that they will more fully live out the Law of loving God and loving neighbor. Today, Jesus wants us to hear and change by crossing the different dividing chasms we have with the many Lazaruses in our lives and world, and so save our souls. 

    This change involves re-orientating our everyday life to Jesus’ way. This is how Paul describes this task in today’s second reading: “aim to be saintly and religious, filled with faith and love, patient and gentle. Fight the good fight of the faith and win for yourself the eternal life to which you were called”.

    What are these chasms we should pay attention to? It’s easy to name them: the gaps in education, in economic opportunities, in racial and gender equality, in access to opportunities. And we quick, clever, even shrewd enough in identifying these chasms, these divisions, these obstacles that prevent us from helping another, as society’s faults, as faults others have made.

    But haven’t you and I also created or perpetuated chasms and divides against those we dislike or look down on? 

    Chasms like telling our children be good or else the Bayis* or karung-guni** men will take them away? Or, gossiping about that woman at work those dressing suggests an immoral nightlife? Or, sending out whatsapp messages that ridicule the socially awkward or fat or dimwitted classmate?

    Chasms too like refusing to celebrate in jealousy a neighbor’s good fortune? Or, like distancing oneself in self-preservation when a family member needs help from making the wrong choice? Or, like passing unChristian remarks that little ones and special needs children should not be at Mass because they disturb one’s worship? And, on Migrant Sunday, chasms like the “us and them” divide that insists on divisions by colour, ethnicity, language, religion: do we welcome them or do we exclude them?

    And how about when we know these chasms but refuse to cross over to another who says, “Help me, please,” or, to one whose suffering eyes cry out, “Will you not accept me?” or the helpless who plead, “Hold me and keep me from falling”?

    However we justify these divides and our refusal to bridge them—be it to protect ourselves, to secure the happiness we want, to live the lives we’ve worked hard for—Jesus’ teaching today is a harsh, hard challenge.

    He is challenging us to look at the chasms we’ve created, the divides we refuse to bridge, because these are really the elephant or two in our lives. We don’t want to admit that they exist, or to talk about them, or even to want to change them at times.  But Jesus is saying, “seriously, look and consider.” And if we dare to look at these chasms, our elephants, with eyes of faith, we’ll probably discover that own selfish ways are like the rich man in today’s gospel. They divide us from others, like him. They also numb us to another’s need for life, like him. 

    These chasms are dangerous: they do not let us lock others out of our lives, as they bluff us into locking ourselves out of heaven. They do these by making us complacent, self-indulgent and self-serving as those God is disappointed with is in the first reading.  Such an attitude and way of life angers God so much that God will banish and put aside.

    It is hard to hear this message, isn’t it?  It doesn’t sound like good news. 

    But it is. It is indeed good news because Jesus is warning us that the reversal the rich man and Lazarus experience can possibly be our own self-punishment on judgment day. Wouldn't we be condemning ourselves before God when we present to God our life as one marked by constant failures to care for others and uplift them, as Jesus teaches, because of the chasms and divides we build around us?

    Today Jesus is waking us up to save us. This is the good news deep in the heart of his hard, harsh teaching. 

    His call comes nine months after New Year’s when we make resolutions to live better and five months after Easter when we thanked God for saving us through Jesus’ death and resurrection.  With 14 weeks before this year ends, Jesus is challenging us to honestly evaluate how we are grappling with that either/or reality of choosing between being selfish and being selfless. He is giving us time to take stock and change so that we can save ourselves for God. Whoever has ears, let them hear Jesus’ call clearly.

    At Friday’s Art Exhibition, Victoria’s intricate paper cut art piece drew much attention from students and teachers, parents and guests. All admired her labor of love. A few reflected on her message of reconciliation to overcome fragmentation. But I was captivated by the cracks and gaps: they challenged me to acknowledge the elephants in my life. May be you feel same as you look at it again. 

    But let’s not stop here at seeing; let’s make the change the rich man should have made. Let’s reach out to those we have divided ourselves from and care for them. Then God in mercy will surely see our compassion and save us. Can we do this? What will give us certain hope that we can and will succeed? Today’s psalm reminds us that the Lord is faithful. He will help us make this change; he will accompany us to do this. So, yes, we can change. Let us. 




    * a Singaporean term for Sikhs
    ** a Singaporean term for junk collectors

    Preached at St Ignatius Parish, Singapore
    Artwork: bon apétit by victoria teng (2016)

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  2. Year C / 25th Week / Sunday
    Readings: Amos 8.4-7 / Psalm 113. 1-2, 4-6, 7-8 (R/v cf 1a;7b) / 1 Timothy 2.1-8 / Luke 16.1-13

    “Look at this one: he’s cheated the poor; she’s ill-treated her maid; they’ve exploited the foreign workers”. 

    “Look at this one too: she’s ignored her aged parents; he’s neglected his children for his self-pleasure; they’ve bullied the odd one out in class; they’ve slandered their work colleague”. 

    “Yes, look at them”, we cry, pointing our fingers at these bad and sinful ones.

    Many of us do this when we especially see or experience injustice. This is why I believe most of us here can identify with the message in today’s first reading. We hear Amos announcing God’s displeasure with greedy people whose sole focus is to increase their wealth by cheating the poor. Throughout the Old Testament, prophets like Amos tell us how God’s people ought to live out their covenant relationship with God: by being generous to others; by ensuring everyone has a fair share; by caring for all, especially the poor, needy and outcast. This knowledge makes us quick to identify those who are unjust; they are like the irresponsible, sinful people Amos chastises. Our anger at them leads us to point our fingers at them and to talk about them to others.

    But do you and I dare to look at ourselves and admit that we often fail to be generous, to share equally, to care for all? Dare we point our own fingers at ourselves because we are like the greedy, the irresponsible, and the sinful Amos chastises? Dare we confess that “I fail most sadly in my relationships with family and friends?” Dare we, when admitting our wrong with the nameless stranger and the anonymous crowd is much easier? 

    When we dare to do this, we will confess that we are just as sinful as those we point our fingers at and talk about. In this moment, we might judge ourselves unworthy of God’s love. We thus cry for God’s mercy. We also struggle to answer this fundamental question:  “Can I believe that God will forgive me and lift me up into fullness of life again?”

    Our gospel reading today tells us that we can for God’s mercy is always ours, especially when we fail. But we need to listen very carefully to Jesus’ parable of the dishonest but clever steward to hear this hope God’s mercy promises.

    A steward misuses his master’s property. Money and possessions have gotten him into trouble; he has just been fired for his mistake.  He then makes deals to reduce the debts others owe his master. He does this to increase his own chances that the other debtors will be good to him when he is jobless. Seeing his actions, the master commends the steward for being prudent. 

    How nonsensical that his master should commend him. Why would he when the dishonest steward is wasting away even more of his money by slashing the debts others owe him? And isn’t the dishonest steward taking further advantage of his master to selfishly care for his future when he loses his job? 

    I’d like to suggest that stepping into the dishonest steward’s shoes might help us understand the master’s praise. 

    Like the steward, we’ve all made mistakes, messed up our lives and found ourselves in trying situations. In such moments, all we want, like the steward, is to find a way out and to start over.

    Starting over. This is about making a change in how we live or re-prioritizing our life choices, or reconsidering what we ought to value. For Christians, starting over gives us a chance to hit the reset button with Jesus’ help and to begin anew our relationship with God. 

    We can do this by not squandering opportunities before us to start over. This is what the steward does when he makes the clever decision to reduce the debts others owed to his master. These actions can help him avoid the unemployment line. They are preparations for life after being dismissed; they are steps to prepare for this “after-life.” They enable him to re-set his life because he is doing what Amos reminds anyone who is in relationship with God to do: to care for the poor and the needy.

    This cleverness of not squandering the opportunity to start over is what the master commends the steward for.  Jesus tells this to his disciples. In two verses that follow today’s gospel, Jesus also directs this message to the Pharisees whom he condemns for appearing virtuous publicly but whose hearts God knows loves money.  What Jesus wants of them, as he does of his disciples and us, is that all take the right steps to prepare for our “after-life” with God. 

    Such preparation involves taking advantage of life’s opportunities to choose real life—life with God.  This is why today’s gospel ends with Jesus urging us to serve God and not wealth. Wealth gives us a false sense of having arrived in life. But freedom from wealth for God protects us from arriving at what fails to truly satisfy. 

    How do we find these opportunities to start over? By paying attention to the doors God opens up for us in life, especially when we, ourselves, through our sinful mistakes, shut and close them. These doors are the life opportunities God always presents us with whenever we make a mistake.

    We’ve all heard the phrase, “when one door closes, another door opens.” God opens doors to bless us and to move us onward in our life's journeys. God opens doors to tell us, “I am with you and for you always”. God opens doors because this is what God’s mercy does best—to always give us the chance to start over.

    And hasn’t God repeatedly opened doors whenever you and I have made a mistake and others have shut us out? Opened doors when our differing opinions and values have led others to close their doors on us?  Opened doors when we are misunderstood and are no longer welcome through another’s door?

    I believe that each time a new door opens for us to start over, God is inviting us to practice the kind of astuteness the steward had to prepare for the “after-life”, whether it be after a mistake we’ve made or for the future eternal life we yearn to have with God.

    This practice is how we can overcome the human tendency to make ourselves victims of our wrongdoings, saying, “I am never good enough”.  We would be wise to learn from the steward and transform our bad and difficult situations into occasions that can benefit others and ourselves. By reducing other people’s debts, the steward cares for his master’s debtors who are poor and in need. His actions uplift them. More importantly, they create a new set of relationships that will support him in life after he is dismissed. They also create new relationships between these debtors and the master. These new relationships no longer exploit, like that those  lenders and debtors have; rather, they are reciprocal like caring friends share.

    Indeed, being astute and investing in such relationships, especially, in the most difficult moments in our lives, is probably the wisest and most Christian action we can do to start over again. Wise, because what we will seize, and not squander, is the gift of relationship God offers to us in such times. And Christian, because it is with and through relationships that God’s reign will emerge in our midst. 

    In God’s reign, oppression will be overturned and fraternal love and care will flourish. The lesser, the poorer, even the ‘”badder”, we ignore and despise will become the very ones God will use to save us and help us start over. Indeed, these are the ones who will help us glimpse God’s promised eternity as they embrace and accept us, as they affirm and encourage us, and as they speak hope-filled words and do life-giving deeds that empower us to live life anew.

    If this is what we can hope for when we seize opportunities to start over, wouldn’t it be right for us to embrace and celebrate the astuteness of the clever steward? May be when we practice the kind of astuteness the steward had, others will observe us and say, “Look at this one: he has learnt from his mistake; now he lives better; truly, God has opened a door for him and he has seized it well to live again.”




    Preached at St Ignatius Parish, Singapore.
    artwork: from the internet (www.jazzadvice.com)

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  3. Year C / Ordinary Time / Week 24 / Sunday
    Readings: Exodus 32.7-11,13-14 / Psalm 50.3-4,12-13, 17, 19 (R/v Luke 15.18) / 1 Timothy 1.12-17 / Luke 15.1-32


    The starter’s call sounds. They plunge into the water. They sprint across the pool. The crowds cheer; they wave flags. We hold our breath to see who turns around first. Some of us rise to our feet; others clap faster. A few pray. “Go, go, go”, we shout. She hits the wall first. “Yes!”, we exclaim.

    This is how some of us watched Yip Pin Xiu win her gold medal in the 100m backstroke final in world record time at the Rio Paralympics yesterday. Pin Xiu swam using just two arms as she suffers from muscular dystrophy in her legs. Like Joseph Schooling, Pin Xiu had put in many years of hard work and sacrifice to perfect her craft and win.

    “Run so as to win”. For St Paul, this is how Christians ought to live (1 Cor 9.24-27). What’s the prize Christians want? Salvation in Christ for life with God eternally. 

    We are running this race to God now. I believe we want to complete it, and to complete well. Paul tells us how to win: by exercising discipline in every way and staying focused on the task at hand, like a well-trained athlete, like Pin Xiu and Schooling. This includes keeping our gaze on who we are to God and who God really is in our lives. For Paul, God chose us to be the true image of Jesus in the world.  God chose us out of love to give us life.

    Sometimes we forget that we are God’s own. We lose sight of God in whose image we are created. Life’s many attractions and distractions can blur and blind our vision of God.  This is what happens to the Israelites in today’s first reading: they make for themselves a molten calf to worship and to sacrifice to. This is how they reduce God to an idol.

    Don’t we sometimes do the same—force God into our categories of whom God must be for us and how God must act with us? Are these instances when we box God up, wrap God up in ways we want God to be in our lives? Isn’t such a god an idol, our own molten calf?

    Three parables make up today’s gospel passage. They proclaim this good news: that God is always much more than we make God out to be, and God’s mercy, more life-giving than we can imagine.

    The passage begins with the parables of a shepherd looking for a lost sheep and a woman looking for a lost coin. The shepherd leaves 99 sheep behind in the wilderness to seek out the lost one. An insane act because he may lose even more sheep. Just as insane as the woman who has to spend much more, including the lost coin she finds, when she throws a party to celebrate finding it. 

    We are familiar with these stories. We associate Jesus with the shepherd and the woman: here is Jesus finding and saving the lost. Our familiarity leads us to read ourselves into these stories as the sheep and the coin. We are the stubborn sheep who has wondered off on our own path. We are the coin that slipped out of the pocket. We are the lost whom Jesus comes to save for God. We experience God’s mercy in Jesus. We can celebrate and believe in God’s salvation for us in Jesus.

    Sometimes however we make God’s saving reality our personal treasure, our self-possession. We convince ourselves that God’s mercy is for me and God’s salvation is mine. We profess that God saves only me, and those like me, in Jesus. We therefore reduce God to becoming my personal idol. 

    When we act like this, we are the self-righteous Pharisees Jesus is challenging in today’s gospel. He uses the parables to emphatically announce that God’s mercy is also for the lost, the last, the least and the little. He wants the Pharisees to hear this for they fancy themselves as the 99 sheep, the 9 coins that are never lost because they are the chosen and saved.

    We are Pharisee-like whenever we think we would never, ever run off to do the wrong thing, never, ever slip out of God’s comfortable pocket. We might think we are not the lost ones, others are, especially those we judge less Christian in word and deed. But our repeated sins call our bluff.

    Jesus’ challenge can save us from behaving like Pharisees. It frees us from clutching an idol of god we, like them, make to justify our self-righteous belief and action. It does this by cracking open our self-satisfied narrow-mindedness about God. God is much bigger and God’s mercy more expansive than we know. This is why we struggle with God dispensing mercy to those we condemn, especially, criminals of every kind and our enemies at different times. But that God also in their lives is what it means to find God in all things, as our Sec1s learnt during their iBelieve camp. 

    The God who seeks out the lost is a God who desires wholeness. The shepherd seeks the one lost sheep to complete the 99 and make the flock whole, just as the lost coin found completes the nine for the woman. Wholeness is made complete by regaining that which had been lost.

    This is why wholeness is what salvation in Jesus is really about. Paul describes this experience in our second reading. Once a blasphemer, Paul now witnesses to God’s mercy. Once a persecutor of Christians, he is now one with them. Paul is indeed saved in Jesus, so as to be reconciled or made whole with God and others

    Given how many times we sin and hurt ourselves or our loved ones, our neighbors and strangers around us, Paul’s testimony should assure us that God will never let anyone go astray and stay lost. 

    We see this beauty of God’s mercy best in the father’s action in Jesus’ third parable. Here, a younger son’s sinful greed and self-centeredness hurt and shame the family. He returns; his contrition is probably half-baked, motivated more by careful calculation to feed his hunger. 

    Yet even before he can utter his apology, his father runs to meet and forgive him, runs to embrace and love him. The father clothes him, gives him a ring, prepares a feast. Only with him at home is the family complete. But we will never see and celebrate how good this wholeness is if we, like the elder brother, refuse to rejoice that the lost is found.

    Notice how God’s mercy for the lost comes alive because the father runs, no, he races toward the son first. He races to him who has not yet completed the journey home. He races to where the lost one is at, to meet him there, and to say lovingly, “You are mine”. 

    Isn’t this how we’ve experienced God’s mercy in our lives? Mercy that not only forgives and makes us whole, but mercy that has raced to our aid and saved us repeatedly?

    So, how fast does God run to dispense us mercy? Very quickly, I believe, because there is no speed limit on God’s mercy: God races as fast as God can to come to us, and as immediately as God wants to for our salvation. 

    We know this is true: God came and saved all in Jesus; and God will come again and again. This is why we can race to God with hope for God is always running towards us in mercy. And when God runs, God races to win—to win us by saving us, and so never lose us ever.




    Preached at St Ignatius Parish, Singapore
    Photo: nico de pasquale photography via www.assessmenttrainer.nl

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  4. Year C / Ordinary Time / Week 23 / Sunday
    Readings: Wisdom 9.13-18b / Psalm 90.3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17 (R/v 1) / Philomeon 9-10, 12-17 / Luke 14.25-33


    Here are some alphabets: NOWHERE. We often spell them out to mean “Nowhere”.

    Isn’t “no where” how we sometimes sum up our experiences of God not answering our prayers, or hearing our pleas, or accepting our promises? “Where are you, God?” “I can’t hear you”. “I can’t see you”. “I can’t feel your presence”. “I can’t experience your mercy or your goodness or your love”. 

    “Where are you, God?” “No where”, we conclude, adding, “may be because we are unworthy of God’s love”.

    And yet here we are, aren’t we? Here to be with God. Here to listen to God’s Word. Here to let God nourish us with Jesus, our daily bread. Here we are aware of our faults, mistakes and sinfulness. But here we are always as God’s children, trying to live our Christian lives as best as we can in God’s ways.

    Isn’t this why we are bothered, befuddled and bewildered when we feel God is absent from our lives? Don’t we feel caught between believing in God and being unsure that God is with us? In such moments we might echo King Mongkut’s cry in the play, The King and I, “Tiz a puzzlement!”

    Such puzzlement leads many of us to ask, “Can I let go and let God lead?” “Wouldn’t it be better to take charge of my life, instead, of handing it over to God who is ignoring me?” These opening lines from our first reading echo this struggle: “What man indeed can know the intentions of God? Who can divine the will of the Lord?”

    Often we feel that we must know God’s intentions for us and come to terms with God’s actions in our lives. So, we force ourselves to work out things about God in our ways and according to our mindsets. And so, we project our complexity onto God, struggle with our efforts and wonder why we cannot figure God out. What complex people we are that we feel we must do this.

    In contrast, God may not need us to know everything about what God thinks or how God acts. All that God as mystery may be asking for is that we simply experience God in our lives and give thanks for this. Yes, God may be much simpler than we make God out to be.

    How can we experience God’s intentions and actions for us? By letting God's Wisdom guide us through life.

    Wisdom is God’s gift already poured into our lives through the Holy Spirit. Wisdom is God’s guide for our steps toward salvation. Wisdom is the assurance that our first reading ends on. God's wisdom should give us confidence to live the Christian life better.

    Our second reading shows us the good God’s wisdom can do in our lives and in the lives of those around us. We hear of Paul seeking to reconcile Philomeon and Onesimus not as master and slave, as before, but as Christians called to fellowship in Jesus.

    What guided Paul to grapple with this messy situation of a runaway slave who may have stolen from his master and must be rightfully returned? God’s wisdom to care mercifully. What moved Paul to preached the Good News, convert Onesimus and love him thereafter like a dear brother? God’s wisdom to evangelize zealously. What enlightened Paul to reconcile Philomeon and Onesimus in Christian fellowship as brothers? God’s wisdom to love tenderly.

    I believe God’s wisdom allowed Paul to look deep into the complexities of this situation. And looking deeply, he finds that God is now here, not nowhere.  Here is God now, present amidst life’s realities and tensions laboring for human good. In short, Paul grapples with no other in this situation than God who intends to bring about reconciliation and peace. Encountering God like this moves Paul to send his letter in confident hope. He freely lets go and lets God lead.

    Haven’t we experienced similar moments of discovering God in the midst of our struggles with trials, of our grappling with disappointments, of our battles with setbacks, even of our efforts of making sense of surprises? And as we experience God’s goodness, didn’t we somehow let go and let God lead? If we have, then, we had let God’s wisdom guide us. Going forward, we need to consider this question: “Am I still letting God’s wisdom guide me today?”

    Letting God’s wisdom guide us is the unspoken text in our gospel passage. We hear it in the two parables Jesus speaks about. A person who intends to build a tower better have enough bricks to finish.  The king who wants to wage war on his opponent would do well to venture out and see if his troops are numerous enough to win and if not have enough humility to ask for terms of peace. Both builder and king have to grapple with the issues and concerns before them. Only wisdom can help them make the right choice and take the appropriate action. This is what discerning God’s will is about.

    God’s wisdom cannot guide us however until you and I are prepared to let go of possessions and relationships that distract us from putting God first in our lives. This involves taking up the Cross that Jesus challenges all his disciple to embrace: “Anyone who does not carry his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple”.

    The cost of taking up the Cross is the price of discipleship. It involves putting God before family and friends, before giftedness and wealth. It means turning our backs on these not as an emotional hating but as a prioritizing about the place of God in one’s life—put God first.

    To put God first frees us to love God and neighbor more selflessly, more generously, more wholeheartedly. This attitude allows us to let go more and to let God lead even more. This is how Jesus lived. Shouldn’t we, his followers, live likewise?

    All of us here are on a pilgrimage home to God. It is a process of integration home to God. To integrate is to make whole. Christian discipleship is Jesus’ way for us to integrate into God, from whom we have come and to whom we are returning to. This movement is for wholeness; this is what salvation in Jesus is about.

    “The cross which Jesus invites us to carry is more than our personal sufferings, which can be many. The cross has a vertical and horizontal structure to it. The cross we bear draws together the daily encountering of the human and the divine within us. We are of the earth and its complexities. We are also God’s own, destined for life with God. 

    God gives us the Holy Spirit of Wisdom to guide us in carrying the cross. This Spirit hovers; it does not force. We carry the cross according to how we hold on to something or someone with one hand, while at the same time reaching towards God in hope with our other hand. We, like a cross, are the intersection of contradictions”.*

    I believe that when we can begin to appreciate our lives as the intersection of the earthly and heavenly, the human and the divine, we will be more willing to let go and let God lead. We can because we now know that God is always with us as we carry the cross  through life. Then we can spell NOWHERE as “Now Here”. God now here with us, always.

    Isn’t this saving and hope-filled wisdom good enough for you and me to continue on our way home to God?



    *Larry Gallick, SJ

    Preached at St Ignatius Parish, Singapore
    Photo: from the Internet.
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"Bukas Palad"
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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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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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