1. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 34 / Sunday: Solemnity of Christ the King
    Readings: Ezekiel 34.11-12, 15-17 / Psalm 23.2-2, 2-3, 5-6 (R/v 1) / 1 Corinthians 15.20-26, 28 / Mathew 25.31-46


    Tis the season, is it not? No, not of Christmas yet. But of holidays to rest and relax, to unwind and chill, to have quality time with family and friends. A number of us will do this by holidaying abroad.

    Over the past few weeks in St Joseph’s Institution, my teachers have been sharing their holiday plans with me. Three young teachers are now in Finland for the snow; they are posting winter scenes on their Facebooks. A few will depart on family holidays to Japan for the food. Several are heading to Australia to be with their children and grandchildren. The international staff are going home for Christmas. My young Buddhist teacher who quotes St Paul is making his silent retreat in a monastery. Listening to them, I could not help but think that they are all trying to find that most wonderful place, that happy destination, to be at in the world at this time.

    But you and I are here on this last Sunday of the liturgical year. I wonder if we would allow ourselves the time and space right now to appreciate how being here, at the end of this past liturgical year, is indeed a most wonderful place to be at, even if we feel we have not lived the past twelve months well as Christians.   

    Looking back, I am sure we all have had many moments when we did live our faith well. We were in happy friendship with Jesus. We deepened it; we live more fully; we gave thanks for it. May be we live it so well that the love of God in us enliven and enriched our family, friends, colleagues and even strangers. Let’s celebrate these.

    However, there would also have been times when we did not live our faith in the Christ-like ways we wanted to. In these moments we knew were far from God and that we hurt others.  Let us be honest about these. Like: when our gossip hurt friends, our infidelities and addictions pushed loved ones away, our stinginess denied someone hope, our unforgiveness dismayed God. We might regret these. Today, our remorseful might make us identify with the goats and rams in today’s gospel reading whom the Son of Man judges as unfaithful and unloving, fit only to be condemned into hell. 

    If this judgment about failing to care for others is all that we take home from today’s readings, we would miss the Good News that today’s readings are collectively proclaiming.

    These readings are chosen for the Feast of Christ the King. The Church insists we end our liturgical year, our past year of faith, by celebrating Christ as “king.” Did the Church think that our readings can help us understand our past year?

    The simple answer is, “yes”. Because we will better make sense of our lives this past year when we look back at to see where Christ was present, labouring for our wellbeing. Our readings can help us do this. They offer images of sheep and shepherd to help is consider our relationship with Jesus this past year. 

    The First Reading challenges us with the honest demand to consider if our words and actions have scattered God’s sheep over the face of the earth, away from God and one another. God’s sheep who are those we love, those we work and study with, those we do ministry with here, those who come, go, and pass us by every day. 

    How have we tended them—led them to pastures to grow and thrive or have we ‘eaten’ then up? Listen to how God attends to them: “I shall look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong”. Isn’t this how God has been acting in our own lives? Coming to seek us out, caring for us, repeatedly, and inviting everyone into mutual relationship with Him.  This God shepherds—not just protecting but also shepherding all into fullness of life. 

    We know this truth and this is why we so readily find comfort, assurance and hope in our responsorial psalm. We sing it at funerals and at profession of vows, we pray in difficult times and we give thanks with it in joy.  As we sang it, paying attention to the numerous ways God has shepherded us through life, didn’t we smile knowing God is faithful as he promised. God’s goodness and kindness are all around us. God has walked us beside restful waters, through green pastures. 

    But God’s shepherding is not a holy ideal, a theological proposition, a scriptural image. It is concrete: its form is Jesus, as we hear in our second reading. Shepherding was how Jesus lived and ministered on earth. He preached to Jews and Gentiles. He ate with tax collectors. He forgave the adulterous. He healed the sick and infirmed. He shared life and faith with the apostles. He laid down his life for all to have eternal life. 

    These are ways Jesus revealed how great God’s shepherding is. It was always real and present, always giving life and life-changing. How can we experience Jesus’ shepherding now that he is with God and we are on earth?

    By making Jesus’ invitation in today’s gospel reading real and present, life-giving and life-changing in our interactions with one another. This is the invitation he makes: “whatever you do to one of the least of my own, the Lord says, you do it to me”

    His invitation calls us to become more like him in the coming liturgical year that begins next Saturday with Advent. A new year, a new beginning, another chance to live our Christian faith better by following Jesus. We follow Jesus best by doing onto others what God has done onto us—loving selflessly and giving life lavishly.

    We experience this goodness of God in how Jesus shepherds us, his sheep. Today he invites us to become shepherds to others, as he is to us. 

    Pope Francis reminded priests and laity at the Holy Chrism Mass in 2015 that Christ-like shepherding begins when we put ourselves aside to place others before us. Then our shepherding will smell of them, God’s sheep. This is the grace of imitating Jesus’ shepherding; that the odor of God’s people becomes our own. Jesus exuded it in his life and ministry. It did not stink. Instead, it is that rich, fragrant scent of God’s love alive in him.

    You know this scent. You can smell it in those who shepherd like Jesus. It is part of them; it remains with them. It lingers because it is God’s faithful presence laboring in them to serve all, especially the hungry and the thirsty, the naked and the imprisoned, the ill and the needy, the stranger. Serving them is God's plan of salvation for each of us. Jesus revealed this through his shepherding, most especially to the end by laying down his life for all.

    To shepherd like Jesus, we must willingly offer everything we have and we are for others—not because it is simpler but because this is the way Jesus enfleshed God’s love and life amongst us. He leads them to God and cares for them in God’s ways. Being with them, he smells of them, God’s sheep. This is who Christ the King is: shepherd-king with us and for us always. 

    As King, Christ is not remote, far away from his subjects. He is “in the trenches”, doing the shepherding himself. He calls us to join him to shepherd everyone. This is Jesus’ initiative. Even if we have not shepherded each other perfectly in Christ-like ways this past year, we did humble ourselves to let God into our lives to lead us. For Jesus, our openness to God, however much we tried, is good enough for him to invite us to shepherd others alongside him again.

    So here we at the end of another liturgical year. It is the most wonderful place to be in the world right now not because we’ve reached a destination or place. Rather, it’s wonderful because of who we find is with us here—Jesus. 

    Jesus who shepherds us by caring for us and thinking of us. Jesus who prays for us and who keeps us in his heart. Yes, Jesus who assures us he is with us to the end of time—this Jesus who is Christ, the King. King of the universe, but, more so, King of our lives.




    Preached at St Ignatius Church and Church of the Transfiguration, Singapore
    photo: https://benziher.wordpress.com

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  2. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 33 / Sunday (World Day for the Poor)
    Readings: Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31 / Psalm 127: 1-2, 3, 4-5 / 1 Thessalonians 5:1-6 / Matthew 25:14-30


    Sunday evenings are my family dinner nights. Now and then, one of us brings a gift for our nephews, Daniel and Glenn. It might be a t-shirt, a toy, or some crayons to paint.  After playing with his gift for a while, with some ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ and a giggle or two, Daniel usually takes it to someone in the family, not the giver, to share his gift with. ‘Ta-dah’, he would say. We all would laugh, and his mother, my sister, would say, ‘Good boy, Daniel!’

    A happy scene. For me, Daniel’s action offers us a happier, richer lesson for life—the wisdom of multiplying a gift. 

    Today’s gospel reading of Jesus teaching the parable of talents echoes this theme. A rich man entrusts three persons with varied amounts of money. Two multiply their amount; one does not.

    In contrast, our first reading focuses on wisdom. On the  wisdom of a loving wife who diligently takes ordinary things, like wool and flax, and remakes them to improve the quality of life for her husband and the poor. She is praised for her efforts.

    What is the connection between wisdom and talents, these seemingly unconnected ideas? Why would such a connection, if any, be good news for Christian life? 

    In Jesus’ parable, two persons multiply the money entrusted to them. A third does not; he keeps what was given so as not to lose it.  Jesus teaches that even the little this third person has, which he buried for fear of his master, will be taken away and given to the one who had and made  more. This doesn’t sound just, merciful, or even Christian, does it? How are we to make sense of Jesus’ harsh teaching?

    By recalling another teaching of Jesus: "Where your heart is, there also is your treasure" (Luke 12.34). Wisdom is not about knowing all things. Rather, wisdom is about knowing all things truthfully: knowing where they come from, what they are for and where they can take us to when we use them.

    Upon receiving a gift, we might think that we know exactly what it is and how to use it.  A wise person, on the other hand, takes time to reverence the gift. She approaches it with humility and openness. She never assumes she knows everything about gift, how to use it, or why it was given in the first place. A wiser person sees the invitation in each gift: to receive it and share it. Such a person is generous because she understands the wisdom of multiplying the gift.

    This lens of wisdom can help us understand what more Jesus is teaching us in today’s parable: that we must honestly locate the real treasures in our lives.  

    To locate is to find or situate our position: where we come from; where we are; where we should be heading. So, who or where from do our gifts come? What should we do with them? Have we unwrapped all? Did we throw some away? Are these gifts cluttering our lives, or are they enabling us to live fully? Do we allow our gifts to lead us to God? Or, are they entrapping like the man who buries the money give because of fear?

    When—and if—we dare locate the real treasures in our lives in the right place, with the right giver, God, then, we might begin to answer the why, what and how questions about the gifts we have in life and for our life. 

    This wisdom enables us to appreciate God and God’s gifts in our lives. This wisdom, moreover, helps us to better understand what these gifts are really for: for us to develop and use them well, not for ourselves but to return them back to God by renewing the world. This is what responsible Christian stewardship looks like.

    A good way to do this is to share these gifts of God’s love and life with all.

    The men who multiplied their given amounts had faith in their master. And so, they opened themselves to what more his gifts offered. The man who had little faith in his master did nothing with his gift; he entombed himself from its promise of more. We are invited today to be like the men who multiplied their gifts. Is our faith in God one that is open and trusting of God's abundance? Or, is our faith like the man who feared, feared because he was too secure, too certain that faith in God is always about obeying rules and laws? Which one are you?

    I believe Jesus uses this parable to challenges us to use our gifts better. 

    The fear of God should not be what keeps us in good standing with God. Rather, what must keep us in good standing with God is holy boldness. Holy boldness is the daringness we must have to trust God and, more so, to risk developing and using the gifts in our lives lavishly for others. This kind of wisdom should embolden us to believe that God gives us gifts for sharing. And it is in our sharing that we will be blessed.

    This weekend, the Church celebrates the First World Day of the Poor.  Pope Francis hopes this day will make us more aware of our Christian duty to respond to the poor with mercy. He wants us to love and care for the poor, the needy, the disenfranchised, not with words but with deeds. He writes:  
    Whenever we set out to love as Jesus loved, we have to take the Lord as our example; especially when it comes to loving the poor.  The Son of God’s way of loving is well-known… It stands on two pillars: God loved us first (cf. 1 Jn 4:10.19), and he loved us by giving completely of himself, even to laying down his life (cf. 1 Jn 3:16).
    Such love … can only happen if we welcome God’s grace, his merciful charity, as fully as possible into our hearts, so that our will and even our emotions are drawn to love both God and neighbour.  In this way, the mercy that wells up – as it were – from the heart of the Trinity can shape our lives and bring forth compassion and works of mercy for the benefit of our brothers and sisters in need. (Message for First World Day of the Poor, 13 June 2017)
    Francis’ call echoes Jesus’ teaching todaya teaching about how we should receive God’s gifts and multiply them well.  

    If we say that there is no need to be wise about how to live after hearing Jesus’ parable, we will forfeit our growth as Christians. But if our reflection on Jesus’ parable leads us to take the risk to develop and share our gifts with all, we will live as the early Christians did: sharing all they had in common and multiplying God’s life and love. Then others will say of us, as the ancients once said of the first Christians, “see how they love one another”.

    This wisdom for Christian living is what today’s World Day for the Poor also demands of us: to share God’s mercy that you and I have received, so many times, with the poor. This is how we will multiply God’s mercy for all in a world so much in need of compassion, forgiveness and reconciliation.  

    Daniel comes running to my Mother with his gift of Elmo. ‘Ta-dah,’ he says. Grandma takes it and wiggles it about. ‘Ta-dah,’ she replies, handing it to back to him with a hug and a kiss. Then, Daniel snuggles up in Mama’s warm, loving embrace. ‘Yay,’ he chuckles.

    Love received; love shared; love multiplied abundantly. 

    This is true of the gift of God’s love in our lives too, only magnified a hundredfold, and even more, if we dare to multiply our faith by sharing it with God and with one another. 

    Shall we dare to share?




    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: http://www.saintgeorgesworcester.org.uk


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  3. Year A / Ordinary Time / Week 32 / Sunday 
    Readings: Wisdom 6.12-16 / Psalm 62.2abc, 2d-4, 5-6, 7-8 / 1 Thessalonians 4.13-18 / Matthew 25:1-13


    We had a scare in the family recently. Our eldest aunt reported that there was blood in her urine. All of us were extremely concerned. We advised her to see her doctor. Her doctor however was away. We waited for her medical with anxiety, anguish and angst. We were worried that this signalled a relapse of her cancer that was in remission. We were scared for her—scared that her end was in sight.  She however was calm and collected: she want about her daily life as usual, attended Sunday Mass faithfully, loved and cared for us as she does so well.

    My aunt’s attitude and aptitude to live in the face of illness and death made me ask this question: would I live differently if my end is around the corner—as Paul suggests to the Thessalonians in today’s second reading? What about you: would you live differently, if your end is in sight?

    The end of this liturgical year is in sight. We are two weeks away to its end with the Feast of Christ the King.  Our calendar year is also coming to its end. As of today, there are only 50 days left to the end of 2017. At this time of endings, a recurrent theme in our liturgical readings is the expectant coming of God. Let those with ears hear: the end is here and God is near. 

    We hear this same refrain in today’s gospel reading. There are ten bridesmaids, five of them foolish, five wise. The foolish ones have brought no oil reserve for their lamps, in case the first allotment runs out. The groom is late. Finally, he appears at midnight. The unprepared call out to the others, “Give us some oil.” But the provident tell the foolish to get their own. And so the chance is missed, the door barred, even as those left behind cry for opening. It is too late. The moral of the story: “Keep your eyes open, for you know not the day or the hour.”

    You and I will never know the hour or the day when our life will end, nor the hour or the day when God will come. We should always be ready for this in every moment of our lives. Knowing this is wisdom: wisdom we need to focus on the things that will last. 

    To be wise, then, is not to calculate the time of departure. To be wise is to spend the present moment—this time of waiting as end times approach—well. Well to welcome what will come to us and lasts forever in our lives.

    This week’s readings make this point. They invite us to receive what will stay with us and last for us: the saving love of God. The first reading reminds us peacefully and beautifully to watch for God at dawn. We are being asked to keep vigil for Wisdom, for God’s Spirit, that will – paradoxically – come to meet us in our waiting. The antiphon of our Responsorial Psalm boldly names our craving for God: “For you my soul is thirsting, O God, my God.” And the Gospel adds, “stay awake!” Together, they invite us not to be foolish or forgetful about being ready for God, and to prepare well to welcome Him.

    How should we prepare? By persevering in our waiting and practicing vigilance as our hope. To do these well, we must dare to rethink how we understand waiting. With eyes of faith, this must mean waiting in God’s time and longing for God’s presence as we wait.

    To wait in God’s time is to dwell in God’s present-ness. With God, there is no past or future; there is always God’s present. God is. And because God is, God simply invites us to dwell with him as we are, no matter how good or bad we are. To long for God’s presence is to make ourselves more alert the goodness of God’s labour in our lives, however much or little we perceive it to be. Waiting in God’s time and longing for God’s presence. These allow us to simply be with God and one another as companions to the end, but, more so, beyond and into the fullness of God’s life.

    If we dare do this, we will realise that waiting in God’s time and longing for God’s presence is never wasted or wasteful. Standing still, being idle, not preparing cannot be the way to wait for God. This option will only lead us astray: we will lose track of who and what we are waiting for. The example of the five wise bridesmaids who prepared well, who remained alert, who longed for the bridegroom’s coming as they waited, must be our choice if we want to live purposeful Christian lives.

    Today, Jesus wants us to choose this option, not because it is the better choice. But because it must be our only choice if we wish to face our end times meaningfully. What we are really being invited to is not just a choice but the wisdom needed to keep our hearts open to God and God’s love that saves us. This is today’s Good News as announced in the parable of the ten virgins. 

    This is how Pope Francis explains this Good News. “The Bridegroom who is the Lord, and the time of waiting for his arrival is the time he gives to us, to all of us, before his Final Coming;...it is a time of watchfulness; a time in which we must keep alight the lamps of faith, hope and charity, a time in which to keep our heart open to goodness, beauty and truth....What he asks of us is to be ready for the encounter—for a beautiful encounter, the encounter with Jesus, which means being able to see the signs of his presence, keeping our faith alive with prayer, with the sacraments, and taking care not to fall asleep so as to not forget about God” (Homily at Holy Mass and Ordination, 9 November 2015).

    I believe we can do this when we ask for the grace of not yet.  We must beg God for this grace. In school, “If you get a failing grade, you’d think, ‘I’m nothing, I’m nowhere’. But if you get the grade ‘Not Yet’ you understand that you’re on a learning curve. It gives you a path into the future” (Carol Dweck, ‘The Power of Believing You Can Improve’)

    Spiritually speaking, the experience of “not yet” is itself grace-filled. It orientates us to wait and to long. To wait expectantly for Jesus. To long for his coming. The grace of not yet keeps us alert and attentive to welcoming God in Jesus who is with us in our daily life.

    This grace of not yet gives hope. Hope that empowers us to persevere in our waiting and embolden us in our longing. But this hope must be grounded in a faith that never gives up on God. Such faith confidently believes that God will come—come always. 

    We are here because we have such faith. We believe God comes to us in Jesus especially when bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. Our “Amen” when we receive Communion expresses our faith. It also echoes these words Paul closes our second reading with: “so, we shall stay with the Lord forever”.

    Perhaps, this assurance is the grace of not yet our aunt has: that with God, eternity is not just that advent to come, as it is also our experience of God already with us. What we really need then is to be alert. Alert because at our life’s end, no matter the hour or the day, we will be able to truly welcome God because we have already learnt to be attentive to Him in our waiting and our longing.  

    Isn’t this assurance good enough as our end time draws near?




    Preached at the St Vincent de Paul Society Mass, Agape Village, Singapore
    photo: oneido.com (internet)

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  4. Year A / All Saints (Solemnity)
    Readings: Revelation 7.2-4, 9-14 / Psalm 23.1-2,3-4b. 5-6 (R/v 6) / I John 3.1-3 / Matthew 5.1-12a

    On the Feast of All Saints, we are bound to have many thoughts. We might think about the saints in heaven. We might recall a favourite saint, or a beloved one who has gone before us. We might ponder on life and death. “What is your image of heaven?” you might ask another.

    Our first reading offers us a picture of heaven: of the heavenly multitude praising the Lamb on a throne, of angels and elders, of praise, worship and thanksgiving, even of the cost of heaven, the sacrifice of the Lamb. Many painters have painted this scene; it is etched in our imagination, whether as individual Christians or the Church. 

    There is another image of “saints”. It is to be found in St Paul's letters; he called the early Christians “saints”I would like to suggest that it is also good for us to remember this today because Paul is also calling us "saints" as we read his letters or listen to them proclaimed. I wonder what it would be for us to want to be saints

    “Wanting to” is indeed the advice Thomas Merton, Cistercian monk and spiritual writer, received about becoming a saint. 

    In his biography, The Seven Story Mountain, Merton writes about a conversation he had with his friend, Lax, as they walked down Sixth Avenue in New York City. They talked about many things that friends talk about. Suddenly, Lax asked Thomas this question: “What do you want to be?” Thomas replied, “I don’t know; I guess what I want is to be a good Catholic”. “What do you mean, you want to be a good Catholic?” Lax inquired. Thomas provided several lame reasons that Lax rejected 

    “What you should say”—Lax told Mertonwhat you should say is that you want to be a saint.” This is how their conversation ended in Merton’s words:
    A saint! The thought struck me as a little weird. I said: “How do you expect me to become a saint?” “By wanting to,” said Lax simply.
    Indeed, becoming a saint has everything to do with wanting to find GodGod who always surprises us by finding us first to become his  saints. 

    And isn’t this what Jesus is teaching his disciples in today’s gospel passage? 

    First, that they should want to live the promise of the Beatitudes. Such beatitudes as being poor, meek, merciful, and clean of heart are the certain Christ-like ways that will surely lead them to God and to inheriting a place in God’s heavenly kingdom. 

    And second, that they should want to take up the challenge of living out these beatitudes. This is how the reign of God will flourish for God’s children—these  who are the blessed ones, the saints on earth and in the present, like those in heaven and of a time past.

    On this Feast of All Saints, Jesus is inviting you and me to reflect on the depth of our wanting to become saints. Do we really want to be saints so badly that we are prepared to let go of all that we have and are, and become poor for God to bless us even more?

    Do we want to? The saints wanted to. They understood what Jesus really meant when he said: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven." The saints knew this need for God. We know it too from their life stories of wanting God so much that they threw themselves onto God’s mercy? 

    And what did they find when they did so? That Jesus who came to redeem us had first descended so low that after this no one would be able to fall so low without falling into him (Hans Urs von Balthasar).

    If the saints could fall into Jesus, it is because they were first and foremost connected to Jesus and lived in his ways. What about us who call ourselves Jesus’ disciples? Do we dare fall in our pains and fears, fall in our failings, and fall in our sinning into Jesus? I believe we can because whenever we fall, we will find Jesus already there for us. There to break our fall. There to catch us. There to hold and uplift us into life again. 

    I’d like to suggest that it is when we can recognize our desperate need for God that we can truly let go and let ourselves fall backwards into Jesus’ compassionate embrace. This truth is always disconcerting but an exquisite refuge and relief. In this moment we will experience that wanting God the saints had.

    On this Feast of All the Saints, let us then remember, celebrate and believe in this kind of wanting. It led the saints to put everything else aside for the love of God in Jesus. And it will help us let God make us saints too.



    Preached at St Joseph’s Institution
    photo: daily express (www.express.co.uk)


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"Bukas Palad"
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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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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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