1. Year C / Eastertide / Divine Mercy Sunday 
    Readings: Acts 5.12-16/ Psalm 117.2-4, 22-24, 25-27a (R/v 1) / Revelations 1.9-11a, 12-13, 17-19 /John 20.19-31


    Sisters and brothers, have you ever felt like you were caught up in a mystery?  How did it feel?  Confusing and disorientating? Clueless and needing to find out the clues to solve it? Or, simply stuck and anxious?

    If we are honest, we have to admit that we are caught up in the mystery of life. Isn’t this why we try to answer these questions: “why am I alive?” “what is my life for?”  and probably “what’s next?” when death catches up with us. 

    Come to think of it, isn’t religion a mystery too?  Why do we believe? How should I believe? What is the better way to live my religious belief? We all try to make sense of these questions repeatedly. 

    History records that Jesus did die. The Gospels tell us that Jesus did rise from the dead. Yet we still grapple with the mystery of how Jesus’ death saves and how his Resurrection redeems us for God eternally. This is what we call the Paschal Mystery. The honest amongst us will also ask, “How did Jesus rise from the dead and enter into glory with God? 

    We especially try to make sense of all this at Eastertime. Christians recourse to words to do this. Like these words from the Entrance Antiphon of the Easter Sunday Mass last Sunday: 

     I have risen, and I am with you still, alleluia
    You have laid your hand on me, alleluia.
    Too wonderful for me this knowledge, alleluia, alleluia.

    We also use images because they give form and shape to help us understand this mystery. Images like those in Caravaggio’s painting, “The Incredulity of St Thomas” which is today’s gospel story.


    This gospel for today’s celebration of Divine Mercy Sunday also focuses us on the mystery of God’s mercy at work through Jesus who came to Thomas. Let us bring together the Easter Sunday entrance antiphon and Caravaggio’s painting to help us glimpse three insights into how the risen Jesus reveals the mystery of God’s mercy at work in all our lives. 

    First, God’s mercy is faithful
    Jesus says that to see him is to see God. This is why Jesus’ faithfulness to his disciples reveals God’s faithfulness to humankind.  

    The risen Jesus greets his dismayed and bewildered disciples three times in today’s gospel, saying, “Peace be with you”.  Peace is the same word Jesus used at the Last Supper when he said, "my peace I leave you, my peace I give you." By repeating the gift of peace that he gave to them before his death, the risen Jesus now re-establishes their relationship. 

    In Caravaggio’s painting, the risen Jesus stands amidst his disciples. This should remind us that Jesus is always present in our midst, always seeking to be in friendship with us, even in our darkest moments. Yes, Jesus is Emmanuel, “God-with-us.”

    We know this. We believe this. We say “amen” to this truth as we gather around this altar each Sunday and approach Communion. Jesus comes to be with us whether we sinned, or abandoned him like the disciples. Even if we have denied him like Peter, Jesus comes to us. Our only response must be “Amen” – and so it is.

    This why we have every right to hope. This is why we are indeed an Easter people. Yes, no matter how we have sinned and how far away we are from God, the risen Jesus is faithful: he will come to forgive and redeem us. 

    The first line of the entrance antiphon from Easter Sunday proclaims this beautifully: “I have risen, and I am still with you, alleluia”. Isn’t this how we experience Jesus in our lives – as always forgiving because he himself is Divine Mercy?

    Second, God’s mercy transforms
    Jesus appears to the apostles. Thomas is missing. He refuses to believe their claim that Jesus has risen.  He wants empirical proof before he believes: “Unless I put my finger in the nail marks in his hands and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.” 

    Don’t we make the same demands when our prayers are unanswered or we feel God is absent?

    But Jesus comes to Thomas. He comes to counter Thomas’ doubt. He also does something more; he transforms Thomas – from one whose mind doubts to one whose heart believes. Thomas believes because Jesus laid his hand on Thomas’ hand and directs it to touch his wounds as Caravaggio shows. 

    In touching Jesus, Thomas does not touch a human body broken and scarred; he touches wounds God has transfigured into channels of mercy. This is the image of the Divine Mercy we know so well. 

    “My Lord and my God”.  Here is Thomas proclaiming that Jesus is alive and he believes. It is also a cry announcing how merciful God is.  It must be so because God’s mercy in Jesus does not reject the thick-headed, the weak, and the doubting. Instead, God’s mercy gives them, like Thomas, the power to become strong, loving, and wise.  “Behold,” says Jesus, “I make all things new.” (Rev 21:5). 

    Haven’t we experienced God’s mercy transforming us in similar ways? Who here has not been forgiven and renewed by God’s mercy? Shouldn’t we then join Thomas in proclaiming the second line of the Easter Sunday entrance antiphon: “You have laid your hand upon me, alleluia”?

    Third, God’s mercy is fruitful
    After greeting his disciples with peace, Jesus breathes on them, saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit”. 

    Doesn’t this remind us of the moment in the Book of Genesis when God’s Spirit hovered over the waters? The Spirit hovered before God said, “let there be light”, and creation abounded in the world. 

    Jesus breathes this same Spirit of life onto the apostles. And the word Jesus speaks now is of redemption: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” 

    Here is Jesus exercising mercy. This is the first thing Jesus does on the day of his resurrection: he gives his apostles the power to forgive sins. Receiving his mercy, they are to go out to the whole world and to be equally merciful. This is Jesus’ command because this is how they will reconcile humankind to God, restore right relationships amongst people and bring about peace – all these that sin destroys. 

    This mercy astonishes. Caravaggio captures this in the look the other apostles had as Jesus guides Thomas’ hand into his wounded side, into this channel of God’s mercy. This mercy is fruitful: it gives peace to all.

    And isn’t peace the true grace Thomas receives, as we also do each time we confess God’s mercy at the Sacrament of Reconciliation? How can we not delight in the scandalous wonder that God’s mercy knows no bounds? 

    And since we have all received God’s mercy, shouldn’t we share it with others by proclaiming in word and deed the third line of the Easter antiphon: “Too wonderful for me this knowledge, alleluia, alleluia”? 

    God’s mercy is faithful. God’s mercy transforms. God’s mercy is fruitful.

    This is the experience Thomas had when the risen Jesus appeared and drew him into relationship again. I believe this is the same experience we have had and we will continue to have because Jesus always comes to draw us into his loving embrace to receive and savour God’s divine mercy. This is God’s way of loving you and me. 

    This is why the best way we can enjoy Easter is to allow ourselves to really savour and relish its goodness: that in Jesus the mystery of God’s mercy is very good for us all. 



    Preached at Church of the Transfiguration
    artwork: churchpop.com

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  2. Year C / Eastertide / Easter Sunday
    Readings: Acts 10.34a, 37-43/ Psalm 117.1-2, 16-17, 22-23 (R/v 24) / Colossians 3.1-4 / John 20.1-9

    Dear sisters and brothers, has something happened today for you? Something that happened and is happening this Easter Day?

    Something happened on a hill, in a garden, and in an upper room long ago in Jerusalem. 

    Something is happening in your lives and homes, in our church, today. Something should happen in our shopping malls, schools and workplaces as we go forth.  Something must happen in all the place we have never heard of and where we may never visit because of what Christians celebrate today.

    Jesus' Resurrection that Easter morning has changed lives and set in motion a tidal wave that continues to toss and turn people 2000 years later. 

    A stone rolled away. A cry of loss. A breathless run. An empty tomb. A disciple saw and believed. 

    What about you and me? Something happened and something is happening this Easter Day. Can you feel it? Do you recognise it? What is it?

    Perhaps, it is simply this: Easter wonder.

    When I was five years old, my father bought me a red bicycle. Two smaller wheels were attached to the back wheel. He named it ‘Speedy’. I learned to ride ‘Speedy.’ Soon, I could ride fast and far. One day, my father said it was time to learn how to really ride.  He removed the two small wheels, put me on the bicycle, pushed me forward, shouting, “Pedal!” I did. I went some distance forward before I wobbled and fell.  My Dad picked me up, put me on the bicycle and push me forth again. “Pedal!” he shouted to encourage me. I went a bit further before wobbling and falling.  We repeated this action a few times.  Each time that I felt I was about to fall, Dad was there to catch me.  

    This was how I learned to ride a bicycle – with the wonder that my Dad would be there to catch me no matter how fast or how far I cycled and especially when I wobbled.

    Today is Easter. I’d like to suggest that Easter is a bit like learning to cycle because it’s about learning how to never be afraid because you’re in safe hands – in God’s safe hands. We need no longer fear falling down anymore because God is with us and will always hold us safe. 

    Easter helps us to remember, to celebrate and to believe in this hope with confidence. And it begins in wonder. For me at five, the wonder was that Dad always chased after me to pick me up. For the disciples that first Easter morning, it must have been the wonder that Jesus who said he would rise from the dead had truly risen as he said he would.  

    I believe wonder enabled John to run ahead of Peter to the tomb in today's gospel. And wonder empowered him to so readily enter it, see Jesus’ burial cloths folded up, and, taking a deep breath, believe. Yes, believe.

    We are here because we also believe that Jesus has indeed risen from the dead and overcome death, trampling it down by his own death. During the next fifty days of Eastertide, we will rejoice in our belief that Jesus has risen. We will sing Alleluia over and over in a seemingly unending joyful refrain. Our Alleluias resound our wonder at the amazing truth of Jesus’ Resurrection, even if we will never fully comprehend what God’s action fully means in our lives. Such must be our Easter wonder. 

    We experience such wonder when we allow God’s surprising action to disarm us. Reverent awe – and a smile – can only be our proper response. When we dare to let ourselves wonder about God, we’ll find that we cannot comprehend God with our minds. We’ll know God and understand God’s actions in a different way: with our hearts. 

    John saw the folded burial cloth; he believed Jesus had arisen as he said he would. John believed with his heart. And it did not matter that he had not yet fully understood Scripture and why Jesus had to rise from the dead. 

    John’s way of knowing reveals a hidden humble faith. It is a belief founded on wonder: the wonder to see God’s surprising action in our lives, and to believe it is for our good. 

    When we are in love, love colours everything we see, we know, we believe in, we do. Wonder has the same hold on us: wonder allows all things, believes all things. 

    Indeed, such wonder allows us to acknowledge all miracles, including Jesus’ resurrection, as John did. And, it was the wonder a five-year-old had that his Dad would catch him when he wobbled and fell that gave him the courage to ride his bicycle.

    Such wonder says, "Yes." It does not demand certitude of knowledge or sureness of reason or confidence of logic. Such wonder simply and trustingly says, “Yes, why not?”

    So, this Easter, let us allow wonder to seize our hearts, our minds, our whole being. Then, the truth of who God is and what God has done in and through Jesus for us will break our hearts open to confess joyfully that yes, God is truly God and we are really his. 

    At that moment, we need not fear anymore that we are sinful and damned. Rather we simply have to be grateful and joyful that God has claimed us, reconciled with us, and embraced us home in his mercy as his beloved. 

    We cannot know this truth unless we wonder. Wonder humbles us to be amazed by God’s marvels in us and around us. Easter wonder in particular moves us to say, "You are God and you can do all things", even break the bonds of pain and death for us, forever. 

    Indeed it is only wonder that can enlighten us in a startling way to recognise that the holes and marks of Jesus’ passion on his risen body are not disfigurements. Rather, they are channels of God’s divine mercy to redeem us always for eternal life.

    All it took John to believe Jesus had risen was the wonder of glimpsing the folded burial cloths. What will it take you and me to accept that Jesus has risen and we are redeemed by God's favor? Simply wonder. 

    Easter wonder, especially, amazes us so much that we cannot help but recognise that something has indeed happened to us. It is simply this: that "when Jesus came into our midst to redeem us, he descended so low that after that no one would be able to fall without falling into him” (Han Urs Von Balthasar). Yes, “for God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life” (John 3.16).

    Maybe when you and I can claim this truth as our own true wonder of what Easter is, we can better ride the multicolored bicycles of our lives.  We can ride them better to go as fast and as far as God wants us to ride them in life.

    Can we do this? I am confident we can. In Jesus’ Resurrection God gifts us the truth that whenever we fall and however low we fall, we’ll only fall into no other place than the hands of the risen Jesus. In his hands, we can be sure that God who raised Jesus from the dead will do the same for us. Jesus made this happened for us 2000 years ago. God makes this happen for us each moment in our lives today.

    As this Easter Day ends, how can we then not wonder in joy that something good, true and beautiful has happened for us?  I know you know what it is: that God loved us in Jesus' death and resurrection to tell us that he so wants to love us always. Hallejuah!




    Preached at Church of the Transfiguration and St Ignatius Church
    photo: www.familyfriendlyhq.ie

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  3. Year C / Holy Week / Palm Sunday
    Readings: Isaiah 50.4-7 / Psalm 21.8-9, 17-18a,19-20, 23-24 (R/v 2a) / Philippians 2.6-11 / Luke 22.14-23, 56

    Sisters and brothers, what exclamation will you make as you end today’s Palm Sunday celebration?

    Perhaps it would be ‘Oh my God!’ ‘Oh my God!’ because we realize that the crowds who welcomed Jesus as King waving their palms also threw down onto the ground their cloaks and wasted them. 

    Cloaks that must have been expensive for these poor to own.  Cloaks that they needed to protect themselves in their poverty and vulnerability. But cloaks that were expensive in another sense: symbolizing their wellbeing and dignity.

    Here they are taking them off and laying down their expensive cloaks to welcome Jesus. Welcome they will, as ruined they will also be after this welcome. Their cloaks will be trampled upon by the colt carrying Jesus and by the crowds that come after. 

    This is why I would cry out ‘Oh my God!’ for what they prized would be utterly ruined. I would cry because I would consider their actions wasteful.

    Yet they choose to sacrifice their cloaks for Jesus – cloaks that really symbolise their whole selves being offered to Jesus. Jesus who himself comes to give them his most prized possession, his life.

    What else can the action the poor teach us but a genuine self-giving?  This is why I cannot help but I ask myself, ‘What about me? What cloak have I offered this Lent to welcome Jesus?’  Looking back on Lent, I’ve to confess that as much as I have tried my best to fast, to pray and to share, I could have done better. I could have because the honest truth is that I selfishly held back a part of myself, cocooning it in the self-centered, self-assured and self-serving folds of my cloak. 

    Maybe this is how you feel today. 

    Throughout this week, we will accompany Jesus to the Cross, and through Good Friday into the joy of resurrected life on Easter morning. All our prayers and readings this Holy Week focus us on moving forward to the Cross.

    Yet this movement forward involves self-emptying. Each step forward, each decision to stay the course to the Cross, each choice to do as God commands is really a process of self-emptying Jesus will make to totally give himself over to do God’s will and to lay down his life selflessly to save us. Love alone powers Jesus to do this – love of God and love for us.

    We are indeed being invited to do the same this Holy Week – to keep emptying ourselves of all that will prevent us from standing at the foot of the Cross as Jesus sacrifices himself in love for God and us. 

    And empty ourselves we must if we wish to receive all that God wishes to give us over the course of this Holy Week, especially during Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday. Only by emptying ourselves can we let God be God on the Cross – laying himself down to love us as we are and more so to love us into becoming what God created us to become, his redeemed beloved. 

    We hear this truth of how God emptied himself to love, save and promised us eternal life in Jesus alone in Paul’s letter to the Philippians:

    Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
    did not regard equality with God
    something to be grasped.
    Rather, he emptied himself,
    taking the form of a slave,
    coming in human likeness;
    and found human in appearance,
    he humbled himself,
    becoming obedient to the point of death,
    even death on a cross.
    Because of this, God greatly exalted him
    and bestowed on him the name
    which is above every name,
    that at the name of Jesus
    every knee should bend,
    of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
    and every tongue confess that
    Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

    What cloaks do you and I still have to lay down before Jesus? Not just to give up but really to lay before Jesus as our Saviour? Would these remaining cloaks that we need to unfasten be threaded with our pride and arrogance? Or our self-righteousness and our insistence on being right? Could they be woven with our selfishness, our hard-heartedness and our refusal to forgive?

    I’d like to suggest we humbly ask for the love and grace, the courage and humility to accompany Jesus this Holy Week by doing what he is doing each step to the Cross – self-emptying himself for God and for others. Then, we can be confident that we are indeed emptying ourselves of everything that prevents us from letting Jesus be the Saviour of our lives and of the world.

    Maybe if we dare to empty ourselves more and more this Holy Week, we will indeed arrive at the foot of the Cross totally free to savour the mystery of God’s love. What can we relish? That there hanging on the Cross is Jesus in whose face, scarred, battered, disfigured, we will glimpse the love of God shining through as it gazes down on us with tenderness and mercy. Tenderness and mercy that forgives the crowds calling for his crucifixion in the gospel reading: ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do’. Tenderness and mercy that also hears the plea of the repentant thief: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise!’  Tenderness and mercy that is not at all wasted but gifted to forgive, reconcile and redeem. And as we see this, we will know how the love of God really loves – completely, selflessly, sacrificially and always for the other's redemption and good.

    This is the moment when we will realise that the only right and human exclamation we can make in the face of God’s amazing love that knows no bounds and gives of itself gratuitously is simply and honestly this - ‘Oh my God!’




    Preached at St Ignatius (an abridged version was preached)
    photo: freebibleimages

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  4. Year C / Lent / Week 5 / Sunday (Rite of Third Scrutiny: Readings of Year A)
    Readings: Ezekiel 37.12-14 / Psalm 129.1-2, 3-4ab, 4c-6, 7-8 (R/v 7) / Romans 8.8-11 / John 11.1-45


    Sisters and brothers, what is that one destination you wish to arrive at after a long journey?

    Perhaps it is this: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Singapore and to Singaporeans and residents in Singapore, welcome home. The local time is 5.36pm. The temperature is 36 degree Celsius, with 94% humidity. There is a chance of showers this evening. Please wait until the seat belts signs are switched off before moving about the cabin”. 

    Aren’t we comforted when we hear these words upon touching down safely? We’re home. I know we hope to hear similar words upon arriving safely at different destinations we travel too.

    Today’s readings us point us to the destination of human life: it ends in death. 

    We hear of Lazarus death in our gospel reading. We hear of the dead buried in graves in our first reading and of bodies dead because of sin in our second reading. Our Psalm, so often read or sung at funerals, expresses our pain, our despair, our hopelessness when death comes.

    Death. Despair. Hopelessness. They are part of our lives. We cannot escape them in human life. We grieve when loved ones die, suddenly or in old age. We struggle to make sense when innocent Christians and minorities are massacred in the Middle East. We get angry when unsuspecting civilians are slaughtered in London, Jakarta and Orlando, or when hundreds of starving children in Africa perish.  These remind us that death is the destination of human life.

    Today, Jesus goes to the place of death – to where his friend, Lazarus, is dead and buried. Martha and Mary grieve their dead brother. Many come to comfort them.  Now Jesus comes too. 

    Seeing Jesus, Mary cries out: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She weeps. The Jews accompanying her weep too. It must have been quite a sound—this sound of death. There is also the sight of death: the tears she cries and those of the Jews who followed her. Confronted by death and its sight and sound, Jesus is in great distress, and with a profound sigh, utters “Where have you put him?”

    Whatever language we speak, it is always difficult to talk about emotions, let alone translate them into another language. The Greek translation of this story describes how in the face of death, Jesus is agitated, vexed, furious and so angry that trembles. Why so?

    From John’s gospel, we know these facts. That Jesus does not despair that Lazarus, his friend, had died. That he will raise Lazarus from the dead. That Mary and Martha grieve because they love Lazarus dearly. These do not trouble Jesus.

    What troubles Jesus Death itself. In fact, he is angry at Death. At how Death has brought such devastation into these people’s lives. He is angry with Death—this manifestation of evil in the world that Adam and Eve’s disobedience brought about. So, he directs his anger at Death, the source of grief itself. 

    Death’s presence saturates Lazarus’ tomb. Hence, it stinks. But it also stirs Jesus to action. In its presence, Jesus is indignant; he is intolerant of its temporary power. Filled with anger, he demands the stone covering the tomb to be rolled away. He calls Lazarus forth and raises him up. 

    Lazarus’ tomb is now the very space where God overcomes Evil. Here, God who gives life overcomes death and sin, the power of Evil, to take away life. Here, in word and action, Jesus proclaims that death cannot be the last word about life.

    We know Jesus died and was raised from the dead. His resurrection, however, is different from Lazarus who will die again. This is why the Paschal Mystery we will celebrate over Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter must matter to us. In Jesus’ death, we die to sin and death, but in his resurrection, we are raised to eternal life. God alone makes this possible. 

    Today’s story of Jesus raising Lazarus prepares us to embrace the truth of Jesus’ own death and resurrection. And it is this: that in Jesus, our Lenten journey and our human pilgrimage, do not end in death. Rather, we end in God. Jesus himself leads us to God. Death cannot ever have the final claim over us.

    Jesus does four actions in today’s story. Each assures us of God’s certain power working through Jesus to raise us up from death. 

    The first is that he stayed where he was and did not go after hearing of Lazarus’ death. There was nothing preventing Jesus from going to Lazarus. But he intentionally waited. He delayed going. He stayed. Why? Because for him, death is the graced occasion for humankind to ache for God. By staying two more days before raising Lazarus from the dead, Jesus made sure Mary, Martha and the mourners would ache for God’s saving presence, even as they mourned his death. 

    Their ache expresses the poignant, fragile hope you and I have again and again for God’s saving action in our lives.  Are we aching for God enough in our daily struggles?

    The second is that he wept. Compassion moved him to tears. Compassion for those mourning Lazarus’ death, as he mourned too.  Compassion means suffering together with them. Jesus speaks compassion, words of comfort and hope when he says “I am the resurrection and the life” as his response to Martha’s confession that she believed Lazarus would rise again at the last day. Indeed, here is compassion incarnate for Jesus is God-with us, sharing in our humanity to save us for eternity.

    The third is that he commanded Lazarus to come out from the tomb. Jesus’ command bestows life when and where there is nothing, only death. By calling Lazarus from death into life, Jesus reminds us that God alone is the source of life in creating it in the first place. Now by raising Lazarus, Jesus proclaims that God alone has the power to redeem and re-create life again and as God wishes it to be. Truly God is life.

    The fourth is that he instructed others to unbind Lazarus. Here is Jesus reminding us that everyone has a role to show forth God’s mercy. Creation and redemption are indeed exclusively God's work, activity, and responsibility. But on earth, among the people, and for their salvation, God needs you and me to enter into the messiness of life, including death-like moments they have, to bring his mercy for forgiveness, reconciliation and fuller life.

    Staying. Weeping. Calling out. Unbinding. Individually and collectively, these are how Jesus confronts and overcomes death. More significantly, they witness to a God who is not only with us but a God whose desire is to save us and raise us to eternal life.

    Soon you and I will face another death. It will end differently from how every human life ends. It will end when a stone is rolled away from a tomb and the one who consoled Martha, once, and we, today saying, “I am the resurrection and the life” will overcome death. He will triumph because God called him forth from the dead and raised him to the fullness of life. 

    Jesus the Christ is his name. And in him and his risen life, you and I will find our own. He is the destination of all our lives.

    What other destination than do you and I want to arrive safely and happily at when Lent ends and, more so, when our lives end if not the risen Jesus? Let us then come home to the risen Jesus. And when we do, don’t be surprised that he will say to us, “Yes, I am your resurrection and your life”.



    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: clintclifton.org 
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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
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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