1. Year A/ Eastertide / Week 3 / Sunday 
    Readings: Acts 2.14, 22-23 / Psalm 15.1-2a, 5, 7-8, 9-10, 11 (R/v 11a) / 1 Peter 1.17-21 / Luke 24.13-35


    Dear sisters and brothers, have you considered the journey you might be making through this present pandemic? Where are you moving away from and where are you headed to? 

    Are you making a journey from what we know as our normal everyday life to the ‘new’ normal that everyone is predicting to come, familiar in some ways, different in others? Or is it a move you have to make from disruption, anxiety, and pain that the coronavirus also inflicts to the assurance of a better, safer place? Maybe, you do not see the need for any journey; you will just wait it out.

    The motif of the journey is very much at the heart of today’s Gospel passage. Two disciples are on a journey; they are making their way to Emmaus. 

    They have left Jerusalem because Jesus is dead. Everything about that space is scared by his pain, suffering, and death. They are fearful, anxious, and lost. They have to move away. To Emmaus. History and geography have no records of such a place. Perhaps, Emmaus is where the disciples need to go to because there they will be able to forget Jesus’ death and the failure of his mission. Maybe there is where they can begin anew. And so they make this journey.

    The disciples, however, do not make it in silence or as individuals. The risen Jesus comes to them; their eyes, however, were prevented from recognizing him. He walks in company with them. He talks with them in dialogue.  

    They share about Jesus and how they saw God working in him. They believe he was the Messiah. They had hopes he would liberate Israel. His death dashed their hopes. Everything they shared was from their point of view.

    Jesus shares about himself and the same events but from God’s point of view. He helps them to interpret the Scriptures once again; they understand anew who Jesus really is and how his mission had to be accomplished through suffering and death: only then does his resurrection proclaim God’s saving glory.  When Jesus breaks the bread before them, they recognize him as he really is – risen, alive, God-with-us. This encounter transforms them. They return to the very space of unutterable dismay, pain, and uncertainty. No longer afraid but embolden, they herald clearly and joyfully that Jesus is risen. 

    Can the disciples' journey offer us a lesson for a journey I believe we are all making, whether we are conscious of it or not, through this pandemic? 

    We have gone through this past week with rollercoaster emotions as the spikes of infections rise, the Circuit Breaker is extended, and restrictions are tightened in Singapore. It echoes other parts of the world. We struggle with the shame that we have not cared enough for the thousands of afflicted migrant workers. We grapple as daily life has to change again and again to safeguard us. We wrestle with the uncertainty of what more is to come.

    Like the disciples, we might find ourselves needing to make a journey elsewhere – not physically but to another space where we can mentally find respite and comfort. A place where we can feel better, calmer, more in control, assured. We are all looking for that place where we can experience and know hope is real.

    Christian faith teaches us that the risen Jesus comes to make this journey with us. He walks with us and talks with us.  He does this through many. Like the front-liners who keep us safe, loved ones who check-in and encourage, all who assist us to carry on with daily life, like bus drivers, supermarket staff, hawkers, food delivery teams, even teachers. and every pray-er who intercedes for all in need. He is present in all life-giving actions of human bravery, mercy and compassion we read about online or watch on our handphones. Every one of these embody the spirit of the risen Jesus. His goodness gives life. It shines through these dark and difficult times.

    All of these, moreover, move us to come here today.  Our different journeys this past week lead each of us to Mass. Whether online, through prayer, or by faith, we gather around the Lord’s Table now. We believe we recognize Jesus in the breaking of bread. We believe we receive Jesus through spiritual communion. We believe that the Eucharist transforms us. We say “Amen” to this grace of God labouring in us, and to the call Jesus makes that we go forth from this time, this space into the real world again.  We go as he has transformed us to be for others: bread broken for all. To all who suffer and are anxious, in pain or lost, the risen Jesus gives us his Spirit to give them life in what we say and do, like he does. This is how we can herald the good news that gives everyone hope – that the risen Jesus is with us and will save us.

    Maybe we can now understand the joy of the disciples when they said, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?” It is not the joy of reaching the destination, as it is the joy of who it is that accompanies us on the journey. This is what really matters on this journey of life and faith you and I are making through this pandemic. We have such a companion at this time when we must make this journey. He is God’s gift to us. He will walk at our pace, and with us. He will talk to us to console and guide us to that day when “All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well” (Julian of Norwich).

    Who else walks with us in this pandemic, even suffers like us, if not the risen Jesus?



    photo: www.independent.co.uk (reuters)




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  2. Year A / Eastertide / Week 2 / Divine Mercy Sunday 
    Readings: Acts 2.42-47 / Psalm 117.2-4, 13-15, 22-24 25-27a (R/v 1) /1 Peter 1.3-9 / John 20.19-31


    Brothers and sisters, I wonder what message we find ourselves holding onto to get through this challenging, difficult Covid-19 pandemic. What message do you and I really need? 

    I have been asking myself this question since the Circuit Breaker and its stricter restrictions began. I find myself caught up in a maelstrom of noise. So much noise these days about the Covid-19 pandemic we are in. There is information about the virus and its impact on human life and society. There is news about people suffering and dying, and stories about the many brave, generous, compassionate people helping others. There are advisories to follow to keep us safe. There is also misinformation and fake news. There are sad examples of inconsiderate and selfish behaviour. There are indeed tragic unwise actions by some governments that hurt even more. We receive all this information online, on our phones and in conversations around us. What message do I hear and believe that counts? It’s a daily challenge, isn’t it?

    This challenge can distract us from the message of Easter that was proclaimed last Sunday and through this past Easter Octave week. We hear it again today. “Christ is risen. Alleluia.” It will resonate throughout Eastertide. 

    This year, you and I will find it harder to catch the uplifting cadence, the joyful refrains and the hope-filled tone of this Good News. We will because all around us there is much more pain and suffering, fear and anxiety, and yes, even uncertainty. Everyone feels these; everyone struggles with them to live as normally as we can. We can’t ignore them. We need to attend to them as best as we can to safeguard loved ones and ourselves. It is understandable that we can easily forget the Easter message.

    Today we hear the risen Jesus say to his disciples, “Peace be with you”. These are assuring words; they comfort and console the disciples who are afraid, lost and unsure. Everything they knew as good, familiar and certain, perhaps, even faith, are gone and lost when Jesus died on the Cross. Burying him, they must have felt the weight of finality; he is dead.

    Yet Jesus lives. He comes to them and says, “Peace be with you”. The disciples must be surprised, even shocked.  He does not chastise them for running away from him. He bears no anger, disappointment or hatred for their failings. Before anything else the risen Jesus will say or do, he simply blesses them with peace.

    Here is mercy that cares for the disciples’ plight. Such is the first action of the risen Jesus when meeting others in pain, fear and loss. We hear how consistent the risen Jesus is in this lovingly care for all he encounters. To the frightened women who came to the tomb, he says, ‘Do not be afraid’. To the dispirited disciples on road to Emmaus, he walks with them, teaching again about Jesus and when he breaks bread with them they recognise he is indeed risen and alive with them. To the disciples at the Sea of Tiberius trying to return to normal life after tragedy, he instructs them to catch plenty and serves them breakfast. 

    Each of these encounters should remind us that the risen Jesus is faithful. He cannot be anywhere else but with them. Likewise, his faithfulness is ours too. 

    “Peace be with you”. Isn’t this the message we need to hear at this time? Not just because Jesus says it but because he himself is God’s peace come to us – come close to be with us. Even now, suffering with us in this pandemic.

    This is the message we must hear and not forget. Jesus is the peace we need to console us in our pain. He is the peace we want to sit with us in our misery. He is indeed the peace we yearn for to lift us up in hope. We know the peace Jesus gives is different from whatever we do to find peace as we struggle to live as normally as we can, like sitting to read a book, listening to music, taking a walk, or even finding a quiet space to pray. Jesus gives us his own peace. 

    Today is Divine Mercy Sunday. The gospel reading proclaims Jesus blessing his disciples with peace. He repeats it twice. First to his disciples gathered in anxiety and fear, Second to all of them again and now to Thomas whose doubt is not disbelief but the human need for certitude. That Jesus lets Thomas touch him is indeed the blessed assurance that not only is he alive but his peace is real and actual.

    What more proof do those who are fearful and confused, as well as those praying and believing, need? As it was for Thomas, Jesus’ peace is for us here and now. He touches us through the kindness and compassion, the forgiveness and care others give us at this time.  These give us peace.  We can believe what Jesus once said about the peace he gives: “Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14.27). 

    Jesus’ peace flows out from no other place than his heart.  A heart that is merciful to us in our sinfulness, and more so, ever faithful to us who are his own. This then is the depth of the peace Jesus brings – that his “resurrection is God’s way of revealing to us that nothing that belongs to God will ever go to waste [or] get lost” (Henri Nouwen, Our Greatest Gift).

    Yes, this is the message we need now. We hear it amidst the reality we find ourselves in, that is not in some ways unlike those disciples Jesus comes to. Jesus' peace is not just for us; it is for others. You and I are being asked to go forth from our places of prayer, our online masses, our family homes and to say to whoever is seeking consolation and comfort, “Peace be with you”. Maybe then we will experience the joy of Easter Jesus brings – that it is indeed in giving that we will receive life.

    Shall we?


    artwork: detail from the incredulity of saint thomas, caravaggio

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  3. Christ is risen! Alleluia!

    This Easter many will struggle to find meaning and be joyful. But we can even amidst the suffering and pain, the anxiety and loss that the havoc we know as the Covid-19 pandemic brings. We can because the risen Jesus offers us certain hope. How so?

    Henri Nouwen explains: “The resurrection does not solve our problems about dying and death. It is not the happy ending to our life’s struggle, nor is it the big surprise that God has kept in store for us. No, the resurrection is the expression of God’s faithfulness… The resurrection is God’s way of revealing to us that nothing that belongs to God will ever go to waste. What belongs to God will never get lost” (Our Greatest Gift).

    God’s faithfulness is our certain hope.


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  4. Re-run. This was previously preached in 2014.

    Year A / Holy Week - Triduum / Good Friday
    Readings: Isaiah 52.13-53.12 / Psalm 31 (R/v Luke 23.46) / Hebrews 4.14-16; 5.7-9 / John 18.1-19.42


    Tonight, you and I have come to commemorate Jesus’ crucifixion and death. 

    Perhaps, we have come with the expectation of faithfully fulfilling what this holy day asks of us: to remember, to celebrate and to believe in God’s love that saved us for eternal life in Jesus. We might expect then to grow in faith as we listened to the readings, venerate the cross and receive communion today. 

    But I believe we have come for a simpler and more honest reason: compassion. Our compassion for Jesus brings us here to remember his passion. This passion is really his way of loving us to the end so that we are reconciled with God. Like Mary, the other women and John, you and I have chosen to come in from the cold and the dark because of our compassion for Jesus. 

    We can act in this way for Jesus because of what Jesus first did for all of us. He stayed with us in compassion. He did this through his teaching, healing and death on the Cross; these are the ways he showed us how to be with God and to enter into the fullness of life God wants to share with everyone. 

    In our accompaniment, we cannot give Jesus what he gives us, God’s life. But we can give him what we hear in 1 Corinthians 13 -- that more excellent way of loving another. This involves keeping faith with him in God and accompanying him with hope for God. This is what friendship between people of faith is all about. I believe we have come to stay in compassion for Jesus not just because he is Saviour and Lord, but because he is also friend to each of us, in one way or another.

    And it is as friend that Jesus freely climbed onto the Cross so that he could lovingly lay down his life for us. I do not call you servants, he said; I call you friends. And no greater love has a friend than to lay his life down for his friends.   

    Today, especially, he invites you and me, his friends, to fall under his cross; he calls us to lay down our own crosses under his Cross. He knows the many different crosses we carry in our lives. Crosses of sickness or addictions; crosses of painful relationships or lost ones; crosses of suffering economically or struggling with simply being happy; yes, even those crosses of our messed up Christian lives that we tried to straighten out this Lent. Whatever the crosses we are bearing now, they all share one hope: to find God’s love in order to keep on living. On the Cross, Jesus assures us that God's love is for us and is with us. So, we need not be afraid to take up our crosses and live.

    Whatever pains and fears we may have about carrying our crosses -- whether great traumas, smaller nagging ones or even insignificant ones -- Jesus on the Cross tells us that he does not only want to be with us as we carry them. Rather, he wants to carry our crosses for us. Jesus thus assures us that our vulnerabilities, our frailties, our anxieties need not prevent us from living God’s life for us. 

    Indeed, to look at Jesus’ wounded and bruised body hanging on the Cross is to see all the stories of our life traced into the story of his passion-- the bright and the promising, the dark and the painful, the human and the holy. His story is not a dead-ended tale; it is God’s story of life and hope for us. Why then should we fear our death or the daily dyings in our lives?

    There is no reason to be afraid because "when Christ 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” (Hans Urs von Balthasar). In Jesus, we can all fall into our pains and fears, fall into our dyings, and fall into the truth of who we really are -- God’s beloved. And, in our falling, we will find him already there for us. There is Jesus breaking our fall. There is Jesus catching us. There is Jesus holding us.

    So, let us not just stay with Jesus in our compassion this evening; let us fall. Let us fall into Jesus who took away the sins of many, and won pardon for our offenses (Isaish 53.12). And should we sin, let us have the confidence to fall again and again into Jesus because he will forgive us, take away our sins and love us still.

    And as we fall into Jesus, let us give God permission to love us through him, our friend. Let us let God love us with the certainty that Jesus will catch and hold us. And more beautifully, let us let God love us in Jesus who will always do what he did so eloquently once before on this day -- lift us up with him on the Cross, so as to place us in God’s merciful and tender embrace, saved.




    Preached at Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta Parish, Dorchester, Boston
    photo: Detail from the “Crucifixion with Mary Magdalene” (1827) - Francesco Hayez
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  5. Re-run. This homily was previously preached in 2017.

    Year A / The Paschal Triduum / Holy Thursday – Mass of the Lord’s Supper
    Readings: Exodus 12.1-8, 11-14 / Psalm 115.12-13,15-16bc, 17-18 (R/v cf 1 Cor 10.16) / 1 Corinthians 11.23-26 / John 13.1-15


    I remember them well. They were standing at the traffic light, waiting to cross Empress Road. Her petite fingers enveloped in his gnarled hand, roughen probably by years of manual work. His face etched with concern for his frail, anxious-looking wife. Their almost insignificant clasping of hands — because of the busyness, the blur, the bustle of the passing traffic — betrayed the depth of how much they had touched each other’s lives.

    We don’t usually communicate by touching. We feel safer expressing ourselves with words we can choose, or not choose. Touch can be dangerous: it says so much more with no words. So often, it reveals our innermost feelings and thoughts.

    Yet, don’t we all long to be touched? A baby crying wants to be lifted up. The frightened child wants to be hug into safety. A friend’s warm pat on the back cheers us up. A lover’s deep embrace warms the heart. The downtrodden wait for hands that care. The guilty yearn for open arms that forgive. The dying want to be cradled in empathy. In particular, don't we all yearn for family and friends to touch us? Their touch is how we experience the depth of their love and concern, the warmth of their friendship. Their touch assures, as it enlivens and delights. 

    As much as we yearn to be touched, many of us struggle to return another’s touch. How often do we give a family member a hug to start the day? Are we honestly comfortable with patting a friend heartily on the back to encourage and affirm? Isn’t it much easier to say “sorry” than to stretch out our hand in reconciliation?

    The unspoken action at the heart of tonight’s gospel reading is touch. Jesus touches his disciples’ feet to wash them. Their feet are dirty; they need to be cleaned. Jesus’ action is practical, but also symbolic. He takes up the role of a servant to serve. 

    But Jesus’ action is also metaphor, an image, an icon of a life-giving act of serving and loving. This is Jesus’ vocation, his purpose for being in the world that is directly related to the purposes of God. Again and again, he tells us that he knows the Father and has come to reveal the Father’s will to those who believe so that they might have the power to live as children of God. 

    Footwashing expresses Jesus' identity: he has come to serve, not to be served. The Cross expresses Jesus' mission: he has come to lay down his life in order that others might have life. Such a life of self-giving is rooted in love of God to the end and embodied in love for others onto death. 

    In washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus presents them with more than an example to serve. He gifts them his mandate to live lives of service. Mandate from the Latin word “mandatum” which is the origin of “maundy” the word we call today. Indeed, the only right we have in calling ourselves Christian is if we live this mandate selflessly, generously, fully for one and all in the world. 

    “When he had washed their feet and put on his clothes again he went back to the table. ‘Do you understand’ he said ‘what I have done to you? You call me Master and Lord, and rightly; so I am. If I, then, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you should wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done to you’” (John 13:12-15). We are called to live lives of service by copying Jesus. This is how we live in his image and likeness — by being servants of God’s love and compassion to one another. This is our vocation, our purpose for being alive in the world.

    Jesus’ call — our mandate — is to meet people in the lowest places in their lives, in the places where they know themselves to be soiled and unfit. We are to love and serve them there, putting their needs before our own, laying down our lives for them. We are to wash their feet. We are to touch another in love.

    There is a wise saying we know: “you cannot give what you don’t have”. Tonight, we hear Jesus command us: “Love one another as I have loved you.” At the Last Supper, Jesus teaches that our life is all about love. Jesus teaches with many words in a long speech in the Gospel of John, and most powerfully in two actions. 

    Jesus shows love made visible and tactile in the washing of feet. God’s love made visible. God’s love that knows no boundaries or separation, distance or divide between heaven and earth, between person and person, because God’s mercy bridges them all. This is why all our feet will be washed, whether we are gathered here saintly, or sinfully. Our feet will be washed clean, our wrongdoings forgiven, our personhood restored because serving us in Jesus is God who draws all who he desires to save and uplift to him. Go and do likewise, Jesus commands us.

    Jesus also shows us love made visible and edible in the breaking of bread. “This is my body”, “This is my blood”. “Do this in memory of me”. We hear these words at the Eucharist; they remind us that Jesus himself invites us to eat his flesh and drink his blood so that God’s life will be our life (John 6.53). But these words will mean nothing unless we let ourselves become like Jesus in communion: bread broken for others. Do this in memory of me. 

    Washing feet. Becoming bread broken. I believe that when we do these actions selflessly, sacrificially, and generously to all, we fulfill Jesus’ mandate to do as he did. This is how we are to live our Christian identity and mission. This is how we will die to the sinful selves we are and rise with Jesus in God’s life as the saints our baptism anoints us as. Indeed, this is how we become like Jesus and live as his body, the Body of Christ. But it begins when we let him touch us with God’s love.

    Touch. God’s touch in our lives. We need to keep our eye on this in tonight’s liturgy that has a lot going on in it. We remember the first Passover meal which preceded the Exodus. We sit before a basin and jug of water to remember Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. We live again the moment in the Upper Room where Jesus takes bread and wine and returns them to us as his Body and Blood. We watch sleepily through the night with his disciples in the garden waiting and watching for history, not to end but to be fulfilled. 

    There is a lot going on, but in reality, it is all one. For what goes on tonight in sign and sacrament, word and action is nothing less than “love”. For in bread and wine, Body and Blood, water, towel and story we see God’s meaning: love. Love is indeed the meaning of the next three days in which God’s love is made manifest in bread and wine, in water and towel, in fire and oil, in word and action, in sign, symbol and sacrament.

    As water is poured over feet, let us confess God’s mercy to cleanse us of sin. As we stretch out our hands to receive communion, let us welcome God’s life shared with us. As we accompany Jesus all night in prayer, let us contemplate God’s sacrifice to save us. As we stand at the cross as Jesus dies, let us feel the depth of God’s love for us. As we wait with eager anticipation for the Easter proclamation, let us savour how much God lavishes on us in salvation.

    Indeed over the next three days, everywhere we look, everything we taste, everything we feel, everything we hear, everything we smell will be a reminder that God loves us deeply. And it all is possible because of the simple act of touch: of Jesus humbly serving us with a jug of water and a towel; of him nourishing us with a meal of bread and wine to transform us; of God touching us in the love of Jesus.

    How should we respond to God’s touch? Perhaps best by simply getting down on our knees and washing someone’s feet, by simply stretching out our hands to fill another’s empty hand, by simply touching another person’s life in forgiveness, in encouragement, in honesty, in hope, in love — and yes, in the simplicity of a touch.

    Yes, if you want to know the real meaning of all we do these days, love is the meaning, and it begins with no other action than in God touching us in the person of Jesus.




    Preached at SJI and St Ignatius Parish, Singapore
    Photo: www.pinterest.com

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  6. Re-run. This was previously preached in 2017.

    Year A / Lent / Palm Sunday
    Readings: Matthew 2:1-11 – for procession of palms / Isaiah 50:4-7 / Psalm 21.8-9, 17-18a, 19-20, 23-24 (R/v 2a) / Philippians 2: 6-11 / Matthew 26:14 — 27:66 


    A playwright once wrote: “My plays are a success when the audience is so drawn into the drama that they can feel the actors’ emotions”.

    Today’s gospel reading is about the Passion of the Lord. It dramatically tells of Jesus’ final days and hours and his death. It invites us into Jesus’ experience of suffering and dying. More so, it draws us into the depth of his love for God to the end and his selfless love for us onto death.

    The Passion begins with Jesus entering Jerusalem for the Passover. The crowds are excited. They wave their palms. They throw down their cloaks. They sing Hosannas! They are welcoming a vagabond rabbi they accept as the promised King and Messiah. If you’re part of this crowd, how does it feel to be part of this demonstration?

    On the margins are the Roman authorities. They see the crowds, burgeoning because many more have come for the Passover. They are anxious about the disorder. They want the law to prevail. If you’re one of them, what are your thoughts and feelings about this noisy demonstration?

    Jesus is the protagonist in this scene. From the onset, he seems to control the action. He knows what needs to be done. He sends his closest friends to get all that he needs ready. He directs the action. If you’re Jesus’ disciple, what feelings do you have?

    Such is the drama you and I have participated in a few minutes ago. Such is the drama that calls us to reflect on our roles in it. Such will also be the unfolding drama of this Holy Week. We must enter deeply into it, participate in it, get involved. We must because this is the real-life drama of our lives and our salvation.

    Our Lenten journey leads us into this week. This must be a time of profound renewal for us. The drama of God in Jesus battling the powers of darkness and destruction in our world and in our lives, and winning. Yes, this is the drama of our redemption. God’s triumph will empower us to renew our baptismal life.

    The best way of entering into the drama of Holy Week is to pray — to pray that we will follow Jesus closely as he does the will of the Father. This desire is the right grace to ask for at this time. The week’s scripture readings offer us details to feel, to contemplate, to ponder Jesus’ journey to the Cross. There is no need to speak much or ask for more or to think too hard in our prayers this week. All we need is to let God lead us more deeply into Jesus’ suffering, passion, and death, and there, to let ourselves simply touch the mystery of his selfless love for you and me.

    The German actor Anton Lang once articulated very well this desire to follow Jesus closely. Lang played Jesus in the famous Passion Play at Oberammergau, which is staged every ten years. After one performance, a tourist and his wife went backstage to take photos with the actors. The man noticed the great cross that Lang had carried during the performance. He said to his wife, “Here, take the camera and I’ll lift the cross on my shoulder, and then snap my picture.” The tourist stooped down to lift the prop to his shoulder. He couldn’t budge it. The cross was made with solid oak beams. In amazement, the man turned to Lang and said, “I thought it would be hollow and light. Why do you carry a cross which is so terribly heavy?” The actor replied, “Sir, if I did not feel the weight of his cross, I could not play Jesus’ part.”

    To feel the weight of the cross. Isn’t that what we have been trying to do throughout Lent with our Lenten practices? Shouldn’t this be what we must now really want to experience as we begin to live this Holy Week?

    Throughout this week, we will meditate on the life-giving events of these last days of Jesus’ life, and our part in them. Today, we walk with Jesus into Jerusalem, singing our Hosannas. At the Last Supper, we will pray to have our feet washed. At Gethsemane, we will want to stay awake with Jesus. When Judas betrays Jesus, we will ask not to run away. When Herod and Pilate judge Jesus, we will feel the injustice. When the crowds demand his death, we will be aghast that cries of “Crucify Him” replace the “Hosannas”. When he is tortured, spat on, crowned with thorns, we will cry. When Jesus is hung on the Cross and dies, our hearts will break open; we will be bereft and empty. When he is laid in his mother’s arms, we will feel deep grief. When Jesus is entombed, our need to be silent will be deep and real.

    Choosing to enter into all of these by praying to enter into the drama of Jesus’s passion is how we can begin to feel the weight of the cross, borne by one who carries it and is nailed onto it to die for us. The weight of Jesus’ cross is how we can experience the magnitude of God’s sacrifice for us. It is moreover, how we can savour the immensity of God’ love for us. 

    Will we let the weight of the cross awaken the depth of God’s love in us? Are we ready to experience the highs and lows of Jesus’ life in these final days, the consolations and desolations of his faith in the final hours, the passion of his suffering and death and the promise of God’s love that he abides in to die for us and to save us?

    We can answer these questions if and only if we really let ourselves go and enter into the drama of Holy Week. 

    The way ahead through Holy Week ahead will be difficult; it is the way of the Cross. But I believe we can walk it with hope and trust because the weight of the cross is really the weight of glory — the glory of the Resurrection. The Collect (Opening Prayer) for today's Mass sums this truth best: “that we may heed the lesson of his patient suffering and so merit a share in his Resurrection”. Easter is God’s promised resurrection in our lives. The only way to get there is to go through the drama of Holy Week with Jesus. As we do so, may we may come to know

    … that goodness is stronger than evil.
    That love is stronger than hate.
    That light is stronger than darkness.
    That life is stronger than death.
    That Victory is ours through him who loves us*.






    * Archbishop Desmond Tutu

    Adapted from Br Geoffrey Tristram's writings


    Preached at St Ignatius Parish, Singapore
    photo: salt & light tv (internet)

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"Bukas Palad"
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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

About Me
About Me
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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.
Disclaimer
Disclaimer
©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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