1.  
    Year C / Christmas Season / Feast of the Holy Family
    Readings: 1 Samuel 1:20-22,24-28 / Psalm 83.2-3,5-6, 9-10 (R/v cf 5a) / 1 John 3:1-2, 21-24 / Luke 2:41-52


    “Turn your eyes, O God, our shield, look on the face of your anointed” (Psalm 83.10)

    Our Responsorial Psalm ends with this line. This is the psalmist’s cry for God to look over the King of Israel. It ultimately points to the Messiah, the anointed one of God. Generations of Jews prayed in hope for God’s Messiah to come as their salvation. 

    Simeon also prayed for the Messiah. To him, God revealed Jesus as Saviour. Some might echo Simeon as we adore Jesus in the crib this Christmas. “Lord…Your word has been fulfilled. My own eyes have seen the salvation which You have prepared in the sight of every people. A light to reveal You to the nations.”

    We believe Jesus is God’s salvation in our lives. Isn’t this why we keep looking out for Jesus?

    The act of looking features prominently in today’s gospel reading. The Holy Family is actively looking. Mary and Joseph went to look for Jesus when he was lost. They were anxiously looking for him everywhere. When they found him, Mary said, “your father and I have been looking for you.” Jesus replied, “Why are you looking for me?” I imagine Jesus returning home and looking at Mary and Joseph to learn how to live and pray, to be obedient and grow in wisdom with God and others.

    The act of looking is indeed part of family life. Parents looking out for their children. Looking to care for them. Looking to forgive them. Looking to affirm them. Looking to delight in them. Children too look at their parents and godparents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and even each other. Looking to learn how to live and care, to be good and loving, to be faithful to God and loyal in relationships. 

    Today we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Family. This family offers us a pattern of faithful Christian living so that we can have fullness of life. We can practice this by imitating how they look for Jesus.

    Mary and Joseph’s anxiety as they look for Jesus is our anxiety when we are distant from him. Our worry grows when too many days pass and we seem to lose him. So, we search for Jesus, looking to find him again.

    Consider how we do this. We pray harder, perhaps longer, when we cannot find Jesus in prayer.  We challenge ourselves to be more like Jesus, selfless and giving, when we find ourselves becoming self-centred and self-absorbed. We seek Jesus out in a retreat, a talk with a spiritual director, even conversation with fellow parishioner, when our lukewarm faith slides us into complacency.  We humble ourselves and seek Jesus’s forgiveness when we sin. Even here and now, we have sacrificed other wants to come to Jesus in the Eucharist at this time; we do because we need Him.

    Mary and Joseph remind us that finding Jesus is hard work. They teach us to persevere, stay focused and be determined in our search. They instruct us to trust  God to find him and where to find Jesus: in God’s House, the  temple, where he is teaching the elders. Finding Jesus like this astonishes us too: “Did you not know that I must be busy with my Father’s affairs?”

    Jesus himself teaches us how to look for him. We do, when we like him, seek to be in God’s presence. When we like him, choose to be obedient to God. When we like him, let God nurture and grow us in His wisdom. Consider the many times we have imitated Jesus and found ourselves growing to become more like Him, the fullness of  God’s image and likeness. Others will look at us and judge how Christian we are by our life and our love. What will they say?

    Looking for Jesus also enlarges where we look for him, how we find him and what new understanding comes to us through our encounters with him. 

    Listen to this story of St Benedict and the novices. They were praying before the manger in their chapel on Christmas Eve. There was a loud knock. No one got up. Everyone was focussed on the Infant Child The knocking got louder. No one moved. They were all adoring Jesus. The knocking continued incessantly. St Benedict got up, opened the door and let a beggar into their midst. He prayed beside them. When prayer ended, the beggar disappeared. ‘Where is he?’ Who is he?’ the novices asked. ‘He is Jesus,’ St Benedict said. ‘He came to pray with you and for you. You didn’t really look.’

    The novices had to learn how to experience divine presence, obedience and growing in wisdom within the community they are – with each other and with Jesus as one with them, one amongst them, one for them. We too live and learn in the community we call ‘family.’ 

    As a Christian family, we hear echoes of the way the Holy Family looks for Jesus in our second reading. We can look for him by believing in him, loving one another, and keeping the commandments. Indeed, we will do these best when we look out for one another. For together, in our shared joys and pains, challenges and opportunities, we can turn our eyes to look for Jesus.

    Finding him will more than calm us; it will be our satisfaction and delight. Shall we do this daily?





    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore

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  2. Year C / Christmas / Christmas Day
    Readings Isaiah 52.7-10 / Psalm 97.1,2-3ab, 3cd-4, 5-6 (R/v 3) / Hebrews 1.1-6 / John 1.1-5, 9-14


    “And the Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us” (John 1.14)

    This is how John the Evangelist describes what happened that first Christmas night Jesus was born. Isn’t this why we celebrate?

    We believe Jesus is not another infant. He is that very particular infant who shows us the way to God. To be one with God. He came and dwelt amongst us. Everything Jesus said and did was to lead everyone into the very life of God. This is the purpose of Jesus’s birth. This is God’s plan for us. Even now, His Spirit labours in our daily lives to fulfil it. 

    So it is good and right we celebrate Jesus’s birth. It is even better we rejoice for what His birth is truly for: our salvation. The angels sung this Christmas proclamation to the world.

    Listen to Jean Vanier, a Catholic social activist, describe the Christmas proclamation. 
    Here we have the heart, the center, the beginning and the end of the gospel: God, the eternal God, Creator of the heavens and the earth, became like us, a vulnerable, mortal human being. He became as a baby needing a mother, conceived in her flesh, nourished at her breast, needing her love and the love and presence of Joseph in order to grow and develop as a human being. Pitching his tent among us, he became a pilgrim and a brother, walking through the desert with us. He became part of history, revealing to us a way to God and to universal peace.*
    Jesus’s birth is God’s Good News for all peoples. We all need it. It moves many, even of other faiths, to cry out in wonder that God will humble Himself and come to us. It encourages  Christians to proclaim joyfully that God keeps his word: the Saviour is born. It consoles the suffering, hurting and despairing to keep faith that God hears because He is true hope.

    There is another way Jesus’s coming touches us, if we but let it. It moves us to embrace.

    Later in his ministry, Jesus will remind a follower that he “the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” But for now, the Infant Jesus rests in the arms of Mary and Joseph. We know this well. Scripture and song tell it. Christian art and Hallmark cards portray it.  Every manger proclaims it each Christmas.  This child  with his parents will live an ordinary life of pleasures and joys, dull routines and everyday habits,  sorrows  and pains like ours, largely hidden from others. 

    Yet even now, today, this Christmas, the Infant Jesus, again with outstretched hands, asks you and me if he can rest his head against our hearts. How shall we respond?

    Pope Francis tells a story about a shepherd’s response. Hearing the angels proclaim Jesus’s birth, this shepherd hurried to the manger with the other shepherds. The rest bore different gifts. He had nothing to give for he was poorer than them. He stood apart, embarrassed. Joseph and Mary found it hard to receive the many gifts, especially Mary who was holding the baby. “Seeing that poor shepherd with empty hands, she asked him to draw near. She put the Infant Jesus into his arms. Holding the baby, that shepherd became aware he was holding the greatest gift of all time. He looked at his hands, those hands that seemed to him always empty; they had now become the cradle of God. He felt loved. And moved by this love, he overcame his embarrassment to show Jesus to the others, for he could not keep for himself the gift of gifts.”**

    Today, Jesus invites everyone to embrace Him like the poor shepherd did. We might struggle to do this. Some feel spiritually poor with no good gift for Jesus. Others are ashamed for wasting the Advent opportunity to prepare for Jesus’s coming. Many deem themselves unworthy to hold Jesus. Everyone  is grappling with sin. We are these people.  

    Yet, Jesus ​calls out to us again this Christmas to us to embrace Him and lift Him high for all to see and know. What else is Jesus’ invitation but God loving us still?

    John’s Gospel begins with these words: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God” (John 1.1). Jesus is God’s Word come down to us. His humble birth in Bethlehem means that God is no longer distant or set apart from our world. He is one with us.  He is like us in all things but sin. He comes for us and our salvation. 

    More amazing it is that we can now touch, hold and embrace Jesus, as he does the same to each of us, repeatedly. He calls us to make our hands, our hearts a cradle for God. How can this not move our hearts?

    In Jesus God is amongst us. Surely this must mean a huge change for every one of us. Personally, as the gospel assures us: “from the fullness of life and love in Jesus we have received love upon love, grace upon grace” (John 1.16). In fact, this is our joy at Christmas –  for we have received so much from Jesus that his birth is, in a real sense, our birth too.***

    A Blessed Christmas!




    *Jean Vanier, Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus Through the Gospel of John
    ** Pope Francis, Midnight Mass, 24 December 2019
    *** Trappist reflections on Christmas 


    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: by Omar Lopez on Unsplash
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  3. Year C / Advent / Week 4 / Sunday
    Readings: Micah 5.1-4a / Ps 80 (R/v 4) / Hebrew 10.5-10 / Luke 1.39-45


    “Why should I be honoured with a visit from the mother of my Lord?” (Luke 1.43)
     
    We hear Elizabeth making this exclamation when Mary visits her. It is however much more than this. She cries out in astonishment that God is indeed visiting her. Elizabeth can do this because she recognizes Mary’s true identity. She is more than a cousin; she is the bearer of God.
     
    I wonder how we would respond if Mary, pregnant with Jesus, visits us here and now. What would we utter?
     
    Today we watch Mary journeying into the hill country to share her extraordinary secret with Elizabeth. That she is carrying God within her. Through Mary, God visits Elizabeth. Soon and very soon, God will be born for all peoples, ourselves included. Hasn’t this also been our Advent longing?
     
    God comes to intervene in our lives. He did so for a young virgin and a barren old woman. The virgin became the mother of God. The barren woman bore a prophet who converted many to God. 
     
    In Mary, we see the power of God’s intervention to bring about good. It sends her on a mission to care for Elizabeth, large with child. Then, she will give birth to Jesus for all peoples. From that point onward, Mary will care for every person with a mother’s love, as she did with the apostles at Pentecost. 
     
    Mary acts like this because God sweeps her up in his own haste. His urgent haste to reach all people to love and save. This is why Mary went with haste to Elizabeth over the hill country. Such is the power of God’s intervention. If we are honest, we too have been caught up in God’s haste – every time we loved or forgave another, cared and uplifted the needy, accepted all society shuns, even delighted in one that nobody values.
     
    God’s own haste, Pope Francis, writes, “urged Mary to open the door and go out…to set out on her journey to her cousin. She chose the unknowns of the journey over the comforts of her daily routines, the weariness of travel over the peace and quiet of home. This is the risk of faith that makes our lives a loving gift to others over placid piety.* Such was Mary’s choice. Would we choose the same?
     
    Today’s story of the Visitation reminds us that there is no place where God does not reach. Our life stories are replete with God’s interventions into our messy, disordered lives. If we dare to notice and admit, God has done this so many times, and it is beyond counting. 
     
    God reaches out to all peoples, in all places and at all times. We know this with our heads. We struggle with our hearts that God does this repeatedly for the lesser and lost, the forgotten and unknown, the small and insignificant. Like Bethlehem-Ephrathah, “too small to be among the clans for Judah.” Yet from such places and people, God will bring about great things, like a ruler for Israel, a shepherd who cares, and peace for everyone.
     
    Consider how God comes to us to right our wrongs, straighten our crooked ways, and order our disordered lives and loves. “Yes, come, Lord Jesus, come,” we pray, “Come and share in our humanity.” Dare we pray, however, “Come. Lord Jesus, and let us share in your divinity?”
     
    Indeed, if we have experienced and savoured the goodness of Jesus coming to be one with us, one like us, and one for us in every person we encounter, wouldn’t we join Elizabeth and cry out, “Why should I be honoured by the mother of the Lord.”
     
    It is not enough to cry out. We must welcome God who comes to us through the many we interact with. Come into the dimness and emptiness of our souls. Here, whatever is gloomy, angry, resentful bitter, or discouraging grips us in fear, burden, and despair. 
     
    So often we hide this side of our lives. We dare not tell others our truest thoughts and deepest feelings. “How are you?” they ask. We reply, “I’m fine,” “OK,” “I’m getting along.” We struggle to be honest and vulnerable. We are too ashamed to be our truest selves. We hide our pains and hurts. We deny our failings and sins. We harden our hearts, afraid to admit “I’m not like you” or “I just want to be loved by you.” Sometimes, we even fear voicing dreams and hopes.
     
    Into the spaces, God wishes to be with us. Make his home in us. Come and be born in us like the child born that first Christmas morning.
     
    How shall we welcome this child?  This child whose human face reveals the face of God. This truth is beyond our understanding and comprehension. It is beyond our grasp.
     
    Our cleverness and intelligence, even our skills to analyse and rationalise, will never enable us to welcome God adequately. 
     
    Only wonder can. Wonder because it leads us to the threshold of contemplation. A contemplation, not so much of seeing God, as it is entering God’s seeing.** That is, seeing everything and everyone from God’s point of view. Maybe then we will understand how he welcomes us. No matter how unworthy we think we are, God loves us too much to always welcome. Born in a manger, he stretches out his hands to us, His beloved. How else can we welcome God but to do the same – with outstretched hands?
     
    Yes, let us wonder expectantly this week and welcome God who we say we love.  Shall we?
     
     


    * Pope Francis, Homily, 15 September 2021
    ** Inspired by the Trappist monks at Spencer Abbey, Massachusetts.
     
     
    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo:   Leo Rivas on Unsplash

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  4.  

    Year C / Advent / Week 3 / Sunday
    Readings: Zephaniah 3.14-18a  / Psalm: Isaiah 12.2-3, 4, 5-66  (R/v 6) / Philippians 4.4-7 / Luke 3.10-18


    “I want you to be happy…the Lord is very near” (Philippians 4.4-5)

    Here is St Paul exhorting us to rejoice. Today’s readings tell us why: they proclaim the Lord’s nearness. He is coming, John the Baptist proclaims. Indeed, we should be expectant, anticipating something good, eagerly awaiting it. Yes, soon and very soon.

    Every Advent focuses us on Jesus’ coming – in two ways.  We recall his first coming as the Infant Child. He is peace for all peoples. His coming in history roots our belief. We also anticipate his second coming as Christ the King. He is hope for everyone and all creation. His coming in time strengthens our faith. This twin focus enables us to remember, celebrate and believe in Jesus, God-with-us. 

    But did we recognise Jesus in our lives this week? This third way Jesus comes makes real this Christian truth: God always shows up. Let’s pay more attention to this truth in the second half of Advent to prepare better for Christmas.

    Listen to Jesus’s assurance: "Anyone who loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we shall come to him” (John 14.23). We follow Jesus. However well we do this, whatever the state of our lives, and wherever we are on our faith journey, God will come to us in Jesus. 

    How can we recognise him in our midst? We can learn from John the Baptist. He recognizes Jesus as Saviour. His clear and unequivocal answers to “What should we do?” give the people direction in their lives. But his answers provide more. They point to the One who is all Good News. To “a mighty saviour” who is in our midst (First Reading) and is near (Second reading). John’s words proclaim a person, not a message.  Excited, the people keep a lookout for Jesus. Do we? 

    Maybe we struggle to recognise Jesus as Saviour in our daily lives. Here are three possible reasons we do.

    Because we expect Jesus to come and act the way we want him to. Like the Jews some want Jesus to be powerful, on their side and vanquishing the sinful. Yes, Jesus comes, but he does otherwise. He eats with the outcasts, prays for his enemies, and forgives every sinner. He even chastises our self-righteousness. Those disappointed with Jesus’s words and actions crucified him. Have we done the same whenever he failed our expectations?

    Because we have made Jesus too ordinary. Like Jesus’ kinsfolk in Nazareth, others see him too familiarly as one like us and amongst us – a friend, a brother, a neighbour. We cannot accept his teachings that challenge us to live in God’s ways. We scrutinize his miraculous powers. We grapple with his boundless mercy to love all, even to lay down his life sacrificially. “Isn’t he the carpenter’s son, his mother’s name, Mary, and his brothers and sisters with us?” Jesus’ family asks in disbelief (Matthew 13.54-56).  Might we be equally blind to appreciate his extraordinary love and saving action in our lives?

    Because we are too busy. Like so many our lives are packed every day. We are constantly caught up in 101 activities. We put too much on our plate to do the right thing for the family, for success, for meaningful lives. We problem-solve the daily concerns and plan diligently for a hope-filled future. All these are important but are they essential to our Christian life? Jesus wants to be with us and to have us help others know him. He is present but we don’t see him. Could we be missing Jesus altogether because we were looking elsewhere?

    Advent reminds us that God still comes to us even when we don’t recognise him. He shows up, even if we miss him countless times. We might ignore or reject God but He keeps turning up for us and for our good. This is Good News. Shouldn’t we be rejoicing daily?

    What kind of a God keeps showing up? One who knows love costs. That to love lavishly, He must give up everything for His own, including turning up at a time they need, which is honestly always.

    Henri Nouwen writes, with “ears to hear and eyes to see, you will recognise Jesus at any moment in your life. Life is Advent. Life is recognising the coming of the Lord.”

    Let us ask for the grace to do this. Simeon prayed for this grace while waiting for the Messiah’s coming (Luke 2.25-35). And the Spirit moved him to recognise Jesus when Mary and Joseph were offering him to God in the Temple.  This grace readied him to see Jesus as the Christ, God’s salvation for all peoples. We need this grace too. To recognise Jesus in prayer and worship, in Eucharist and Confession, in charity and compassion. More so, in the sheer goodness of another person, the utter joy of an event, the complete surprise of intimacy. This is the nearness of Christ in the flesh among us.

    When we can do this, we will truly know Zephaniah’s claim: that when the Lord is in our midst, he will rejoice over us, renew us in his love and sing joyfully because of us (Zephaniah 3.17). Indeed, God is coming to us in Jesus because He delights in us. It’s that simple. Is there any better reason for us to be expectantly joyful for Christmas and every day to come?




    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    Photo: Conner Ching on Unsplash

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  5.  

    Year C / Advent / Week 2 / Sunday
    Readings: Baruch 5.1-9 / Ps 126.1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 6  (R/v 3) / Philippians 1.4-6, 8-11 / Luke 3.1-6


    “Prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight” (Luke 3.4)

    Today, John the Baptist is calling us to recognize our longing for God. A longing that can move us to level and straighten out the uneven and crooked shape of our lives, if we want to. His call challenges us: is our present path taking us closer to God and are we opening up for others the way to God?

    John’s call reminds us that the spirituality of Advent is not repentance. That is for Lent.* Advent is of expectant longing. It involves recognizing the tensions we have as we long for God to come into our lives, often messy. To do this, we must respect that God’s love will come and resolve them in his time. The Advent prayers, readings, and songs help us imbibe this spirituality of Advent as we prepare for Christmas. How are we doing?

    The world demands we prepare differently. Focus on the material, it insists. Buy presents. Light up Orchard Road. Eat, drink and be merry. Christians tussle with this; we know this isn’t Christmas. We might struggle even more this Advent because of the pandemic: is there really a reason for the season?

    Today’s readings are providential. They help us discern what must truly matter in our Advent preparations, and how we can do this.

    Advent and discernment. It seems odd to pair them together. Yet, we should if we yearn for God’s best for us. 

    This is in fact St Paul’s prayer for the Philippians: “My prayer is that your love for each other may increase more and more and never stop improving your knowledge and deepening your perception so that you can always recognise what is best."

    “Deepening our perception to recognise what is best.” This is what discernment is about. It enables us to appreciate the very best God wishes to give us. Advent helps us discern this more clearly: God’s best is Jesus. Jesus who is God-with-us.  We ought to discern this to “become pure and blameless, and prepare…for the day of Christ,” St Paul teaches.

    How can we practice Advent discernment? By quieting ourselves, paying attention to God, and relishing God’s saving actions in our lives and those around us and the world. 

    Today’s readings teach us how to do this.

    With Baruch, we hear how God will not abandon the deprived, desperate or disappointed. God will come to them with mercy and justice, and take off the mourning robes. God will then show all the earth how splendid they are as his own. 

    This Advent, let us look more charitably at all who suffer, especially the sick at this time. Then, we might see how Jesus is faithfully labouring for everyone's wellbeing. So, let us appreciate Jesus as God’s hope for us, not once in history but now daily in our lives. 

    With Paul, we hear how God will complete the good work he begins in every Christian community. The Philippians were besieged by external forces and internal divisions. Yet God drew them together as a community and empowered them to spread the Good News.  

    This Advent, let us look at our families, schools, workplaces, and parish. Then, we might discern how Jesus never gives up on us, even when there are divisions, difficulties, and despair. So, let us celebrate Jesus as God’s joy to us, not once in history but now daily in our lives. 

    With Luke, we hear how God sends John the Baptist to care for the Jews and everyone. God wants all to receive salvation in Jesus. What humankind had hoped for generations and thought impossible, God makes possible and real with Jesus’s coming. 

    This Advent, let us look at how Jesus continues to accompany, care and uplift many, ourselves too. Then, let us recognise how Jesus's actions truly save everyone. So, let us believe that Jesus is God’s peace in us, not once in history but now daily in our lives. 

    These are three ways to practice Advent discernment. They teach us to pay attention to God’s voice and listen to it. It speaks simply and honestly. It is prophetic. It proclaims this truth: in Jesus, God is with us and God will save us.

    God spoke this truth through John the Baptist. The Jews heard and turned to God. Today, God is calling us to do the same. God speaks through many who are like John the Baptist in our lives. They are often the ordinary people around us, including the lesser and least. 

    Their voices are hidden amidst the loud and noisy, the mighty and powerful, even the holy and devout. They might be the habitual sinner, that person you hate, someone you are avoiding, like the divorcee or the gay Catholic, and maybe your enemy.  It could even be someone who’s hurt you, like a loved one whose words and actions disappoint. 

    Can you hear God calling you through them to Advent preparation? Will you listen?

    We need to discern God’s desire to draw us to Jesus. He is God’s love who puts our life in order and leads us back to God. Indeed, because of Jesus, empires fall, achievements fade, pride is humbled, self-righteousness and bigotry are challenged, and justice and peace will reign. And yes in Jesus, we believe our sins are forgiven and death is defeated.
     
    So, let us be prepare well for Christmas. Foolish are we to refuse to discern God working through many to meet our longing for Him in Jesus. Our Advent will be lesser, poorer, even mediocre. Wise are we to beg for the grace to discern that Jesus is God's best for us. Then, our Advent this year will be blessed. So let us pray “Come, Lord, Jesus, come!"




    *Ron Rolheiser, “Advent—Preparing for the Sublime”

    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: by Giang duong on Unsplash

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  6.  

    Year C / Advent / Week 1 / Sunday
    Readings: Jeremiah 33.14-16 / Ps 24. 4-5ab, 8-9, 10, 14 (R/v 1b) / Thessalonians 3.12-4.2 / Luke 21.25-28, 34-36.


    “For you are God my saviour” (Psalm 24.5)

    Here is the psalmist declaring who God is in our lives. Since Creation, humankind has yearned for God’s saving love. In Advent, we recall the Jews and their desire for the Messiah. Every Advent, Christians are invited to get in touch with our own longing for God. Do we?

    Advent is anticipation. Listen to Jeremiah’s excitement: “The days are coming when the Lord will fulfill the promise...He will raise up a just shoot...He shall do what is right and just in the land…and Judah shall be safe and Jerusalem secure.” 

    Advent is promise and prayer. Listen to St Paul’s desire: “May the Lord be generous in increasing your love and make you love one another and everyone.”

    Anticipation. Promise. Prayer. These express our Advent longing.

    The child in us waits eagerly for what comes after Advent, Christmas. For lights on Christmas trees and presents underneath. For Christmas carols in the air and the Christmas manger in Church to see. For Midnight Mass and family gatherings. And for arms that will reach down to lift us up in love. 

    Yet, like every child, we have fears. The unknown, the unmanageable, the treacherous all around us. The fear of being hated, ignored, forgotten. Now, the worry of possibly more sick and dead and even a prolonged pandemic because of the Omicron variant. 

    All we want is the familiar, the comforting, and the loving in our lives. Like a parent coming home, a friend’s comforting message, and even forgiveness again from those we have hurt. Could what we really need be the opportunity to hope?

    Advent focuses us on Jesus. He is our hope. He will fulfill our longing. 

    This is the message of today’s gospel reading. Even as Jesus speaks of the portents of the end times, he promises hope – “the Son of Man coming on a cloud.” We can indeed “stand with confidence before the Son of Man,” Jesus assures.

    We associate this image of standing with God judging us for heaven or hell. But “To stand with confidence before the Son of Man” is the most appropriate image to begin our Advent with. Doesn’t the Advent journey lead us to stand before the infant Jesus, adoring him in the manger, at Christmas? 

    How do we get there? By attending to our longing for Jesus.

    This involves waiting. We are however too busy to wait. We are all rushing about, doing everything quickly, and demanding instantaneous interaction with Whatsapp, Instagram, and Discord.  Often, we don’t wait properly for things to unfold, for relationships to develop, or for people to reveal their true selves. We want everything now.

    We rush about like the young boy who puts a candle to heat up a cocoon and open it, albeit gently. He wanted the butterfly to come out quicker. He was impatient that it was taking a long time to emerge. The butterfly finally came out but it couldn’t fly. The added heat had disturbed the process of the butterfly forcing its way out of the cocoon and so strengthening its wings for flying.

    The butterfly would fly if there was time to wait. Instead, there was haste and no respect or reverence for the process. 

    Advent means waiting. Waiting with reverence. For God to come to us in Jesus. For our longing to be fulfilled. For others to share our advent journey.  We have a part to play in all of this: we must make our hearts bigger for Jesus to come to birth in each of us at Christmas.  What is needed is time. To wait and to prepare. We must respect this.

    Yes, “before the messiah can be conceived, gestated, and given birth to,” Ron Rolheiser writes, “there must always be a proper time of waiting, a necessary advent, a certain quota of suffering, which alone can create the proper virginal space within which the messiah can be born.”*  Will we wait like Mary waited?

    In the coming weeks, we will be busy. Shopping for presents. Baking Christmas goodies and preparing for Christmas meals. Writing Christmas wishes. Decorating our homes. Gathering for Christmas celebrations, however, we can in groups of 5s. Even bringing Christmas cheer to the lesser. These might seem like Christmas has come and Christmas gifts opened early. 

    But on Christmas morning, would our longing for Jesus be fulfilled? Perhaps not because the process of advent waiting had been short-circuited. The needed time to attend to our longing had been truncated. There hadn't been enough advent.

    Our readings today propose we wait and prepare ourselves properly for Jesus’ sure coming. We can begin by acknowledging the longings within our souls for God: our unanswered desire; our anxious need; the questions we don’t have answers for.  Then, let us pray for God who knows everything to meet us in our longings. 

    If we dare do this, we will be grateful for the grace of advent longing. It is our opportunity to hope. To receive Jesus, there must first be some reverence to receive. To have a feast, there must first be some fasting. To appreciate love as a gift, there must first be some respect for Giver. This is why we must learn to wait – for God our Saviour, for love excelling to come down, for Christmas joy. Will we?




    *Ron Rolheiser, “Advent - A Time to Learn How to Wait”

    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: by Paul Gilmore on Unsplash

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  7. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 34 / Sunday: Solemnity of Christ the King
    Readings: Daniel 7.13-14 / Psalm 92. 1ab, 1c-5, 5 (R/v 1a) / Revelations 1.5-8 / John 18.33b-37


    “Yes, I am a king. I was born for this … to bear witness to the truth” (John 18. 37)

    Here is Jesus replying to Pilate’s interrogation. His kingly mission, he declares, is to witness to the truth of God and God’s saving love in the world. 

    When have you experienced Jesus’ kingship? Was it in his peace that cares or his mercy that reconciles?  Might it be in how his concern heals or his love gives life?

    Growing up, we all needed heroes. For some, the kings we read about were those heroes. It’s not surprising a few played king with paper crowns and blankets as capes. The power, bravery, and majesty of kings were attractive and inspiring. 

    We hear echoes of such kingship today. The First Reading describes an eternal Lord coming from on high to receive sovereignty, glory, and kingship. In the Psalm, a king robed in majesty has a throne that is firm from of old. The Second Reading presents a Ruler of the kings on the earth.

    But Jesus the king is unlike the kings we know. He comes with love – with love for us and with love to liberate us. Today we hear how His love – merciful, compassionate, and sacrificial – leads him to be on trial. He is alone; his best friends have panicked and deserted him. The crowds condemn him. He is humiliated, spat on, and rejected by leaders, jealous, and afraid of his kind of loving. He will die a criminal: crucified on the Cross.
    .
    This is how John’s Gospel portrays Jesus as king. He is powerless. He suffers.  He is broken. All our expectations of kingship are turned upside down. 

    In fact, Jesus is the servant-king. He washes his disciples’ feet and eats with sinners. He mixes with the poor, seeks out the outcasts, sets free the oppressed, and uplifts the burdened. He feeds the hungry, cures people every day of the week, and touches lepers, becoming unclean himself.  He unravels what we know kings are and do. For the apostles, the long-awaited Messiah isn’t supposed to do all this. 

    There’s more. Jesus’s love forgives, even the woman caught in adultery. It also challenges her male accusers to drop their stones to kill her, not because she isn’t guilty, but because we all are guilty. We have all failed repeatedly to love like God loves. This is our shared truth. The reason Jesus has come is simple: God yearns to redeem everyone for all are His beloved. 

    For love of everyone, then, Jesus dies to wash away our sin with his blood (Revelations 1.5). None of us can do this and gain eternal life. He alone can. His action saves. It says God won’t have it any other way.

    Throughout the Gospels, Jesus proclaims, “God’s love saves.” He focuses us on this truth, not on calling him king. This is why he tells Pilate, "You may call me a king, if you choose, but I assure you my kingdom does not belong to this world.” 

    Jesus’s only desire is for God’s kingdom to flourish. It does wherever everyone is included and whenever everyone matters. Jesus taught us this when he prayed and forgave, healed, and cared. For Jesus, every life counts. This is why he died for us. This is the utter truth of Jesus as king – he bothers to save us all.  Yes, there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for others to live.

    We recognize this whenever we turn our gaze to where Jesus is enthroned king. Nailed on the cross, condemned like the criminals beside him, crowned with thorns, disfigured, bleeding and panting.

    “Here Jesus is most truly king — king of upside-downness. King of little ones. King of losers and last ones. King of those burdened, disappointed, and rejected. King who becomes a guilty outsider with the outsiders.”* King also of those who sinned against him. King too of all who are at the margins of the Church – the divorced, the gay, the questioning – even as the pious, devoted, and saintly claim him as their King. Yes, we are all these very ones Jesus is king for.

    As king of everyone, Jesus lives, serves, and dies for us to have life to the full, now and eternally. Everything he says and does fulfill our need to belong to God.

    Many wrestle with Jesus’s call that we imitate his kingship of sacrificial loving and co-build God’s kingdom he announces. We struggle to respond because we feel unworthy and the task looks too difficult to accomplish

    Yet many others have. Jesus’s kingliness summons their loyalty. His call to serve and save, not to dominate, draws them to follow him. They find life and purpose in joining him to live and die for God’s kingdom. Their example is encouraging. Can we let them inspire us?

    Today Jesus says he wants to be in union with us. He wants us to enter into his life, as he desires to enter ours. He has come to be with us so that we might be with him.  He wants to do all this as our King. “Listen to my voice,” Jesus says. We will hear this: all this King desires is the union of our hearts – his and ours. Yes, a union of hearts. Nothing more, nothing less.

    Do we desire this union too?





    *from the writings of the Trappist monks, Spencer Abbey, USA

    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: guideposts.com  
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  8.  

    Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 33 / Sunday
    Readings: Daniel 12.1-3 / Psalm 15.5 and 8, 9-10, 11 (R/1) / Hebrews 10.11-14,18 / Mark: 13.24-32


    “Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away” (Mark 13.31)

    It is good to hear Jesus assuring his disciples that he will be near at the end of times.  Today, he assures us too. 

    Jesus’s assurance is timely. This year is ending. Many will lament, “Where did the year go?” More will cry, “Another wasted year.” Even those travelling nowadays want this year to end quickly. So much pain, frustration, and exhaustion because of the continuing pandemic.

    The year began with a promise: life would be better. It ends with continued doubt about next year. It’s hard then to accept the saying “every beginning finds it fullness in an ending.” 

    Yet we are ending this pandemic year with experiences of fullness – of care for the sick, compassion for the dead, and provision for the needy. Fullness too in how many supported the affected like hawkers, cheered on front liners in hospitals and schools, and looked out for the elderly. 

    Simply put, we are ending with more of us loving and caring for one another.  

    If every ending holds the potential for a new beginning, how can we move forward from this year into the next with hope?

    It seems the familiar signposts that direct have faded and the usual lights that guide have dimmed. What do we do? Everyone grapples with this question when our world as we know it seems to fall apart. Terminal illness, unexpected trials, and lost opportunities test us. More traumatic are the hurts of broken relationships, the wounds of unforgiving friendships, and the scars of abusive interactions. These have been our crosses at different times. Darkness easily overwhelms us. “Where are you, God?” is our constant cry. Yet, we believe God is present with us, abiding in us, and staying with us to the end.

    Such experiences tempt us to take control. To do something: solve the problem, numb the pain, and escape the uncertainty. And don’t we do this to go back to before, to return to what used to be, to fix it back again? But we can’t really. 

    Time has passed. Life has moved on. People and circumstances have changed. And God calls us onward — anew. 

    How did this happen? Because God redeemed us. God didn’t undo or sort out our lives in our darkest moments the way we wanted or expected. God saved us.  

    In those times, He drew us deep into the mystery of his saving love. And there, God restored us.  There, his mercy humbles us; He cracks us open to receive His grace. He reminds us we do not know everything. He cures our blindness that we alone see all possibilities. He punctures our pride to predict, take charge, and control all things. And so, we live anew – healed and forgiven, uplifted and restored.  

    God will do this for us repeatedly for this simple reason. For us to receive Jesus, God’s Word, to dwell amongst us.  Dwell with us in those dark moments we struggle with, like endings that unsettle or life-changing moments. Dwell for us when we fear losing our faith, despairing in hope, and even struggling to love. God always comes – to redeem us in Jesus. We simply need to be open to receiving.

    How? “Learn a lesson from the fig tree,” Jesus says. Annually, the fig tree sheds all its leaves in winter, and in spring new sprouts bud, promising abundant fruit in summer. Yes, new life arises out of seeming deadness.

    In the same way, our disturbing endings, difficult moments, and dark times are graced because Jesus “is near.”  He comes “with great power and glory” to heal and save us, often in the messy and sinful parts of life.

    Today, Jesus teaches his disciples – and us too – that all beginnings and endings happen in God alone. For God gives life.  Like a leafless fig tree will bloom and bear fruit annually, so will new life thrive in the face of destruction and death. Jesus’s death and resurrection proclaim this.

    Yes, when darkness overtakes us, Jesus is near. When endings come, Jesus will be with us to the end of time (Matthew 28.20). When heavens and earth pass away, Jesus, God’s word, stays with us to the end. 

    “Stay awake and stand ready,” Jesus exhorts us (Matthew 21.42). We should because he always comes to save us. Wise are we who are vigilant, always looking out for him and paying attention to how he reveals God’s goodness for us, whether saint or sinner. 

    Let us learn this truth well and instruct many in virtue and about God. Then, God’s delight will lift us up to shine “as bright as stars for all eternity” (Daniel 12.3). Don’t these words encourage us onward as Christians?




    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo by Steven Su on Unsplash

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  9. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 32 / Sunday
    Readings: 1 Kings 17.10-16 / Psalm 145.6c-7, 8-9a, 9bc-10 (R/v 1b) / Hebrews 9.24-28 / Mark 12.38-44


    “He sat down … and watched the people” (Mark 12.41)

    This is what Jesus is doing in today’s gospel reading.  

    Jesus sees the rich put in ‘a great deal’ into the treasury but they contribute from their surplus wealth. The scribes, Jesus says, parade their piety but they are not honest about who they are. The poor widow however is, Jesus notes. She puts in two small coins, all she could give. The rich and the scribes would consider her coins almost worthless donations. Yet she gives and is not ashamed to let people see her for who she is.

    What is Jesus watching out for? To know who we are and how we live with God and others. He watches us even now in daily life. Let me suggest three reasons Jesus does so.

    First, Jesus looks to understand and encourage the disciples we are.

    We profess to follow Jesus and live in his ways. We believe that knowing, loving, and believing in Jesus will lead us to God and our salvation.

    'Give all.' This is how Jesus wants us to love God and love others. Throughout the gospels, Jesus challenges his disciples to live like this. To give all they have without counting the cost, calculating self-gain, or seeking attention.

    'Give all.' To do this always. When caring for the needy. When forgiving loved ones. When needing to sacrifice much for justice and right. Even, when loving, praising, and serving God. Indeed, the “whole livelihood” Jesus wants his disciples to give is their very selves.

    How are we living our Christian life? Like the self-important scribes and the rich who present themselves as good to God and others? Or, like the humble, self-giving poor widow who gave “all she had,” living her poverty truthfully, fully, and sacrificially?

    Jesus looks at us with love. To understand why we live like the rich, the scribes, and the poor widow at different moments. More so, he does this to encourage us, like the disciples, to live better when we fail and saintlier when we live well. Shall we?

    Second, Jesus looks with the hope we will love generously.

    God gives us free will. He respects how we speak and act, choose and decide, and even how we love. Yet God pines for us to love like He does. We should not be surprised God yearns for this: He created us to love.

    In Jesus, God reveals the depth, breadth, and height of love, and how we are to love. We hear it when Jesus said, “No greater love does one have than to lay down his life for another” (John 15.13). This is how Jesus loves – generously, sacrificially, even onto death for everyone to have life to the full.

    In offering her all, those two coins, the poor woman reveals how magnanimous, even sacrificial, her love is. For Pope Francis, her example is an appeal to generosity. “Generosity,” he teaches, “belongs to everyday life; it's something we should think: 'How can I be more generous, with the poor, the needy? … How can I help more’? ... We can do miracles through generosity. Generosity in little things....broadens our hearts and leads us to magnanimity. We need to have a magnanimous heart, where all can enter. Those wealthy people who gave money were good; that elderly lady was a saint.”*

    Jesus wants us, like his disciples, to learn generous loving from the poor widow. He looks with hope that we will. Shall we?

    Third, Jesus looks to bless us.

    All of us come to God with the best and worst of ourselves. Yet God consistently blesses us. We know this truth because “every saint has a past and every sinner a future” (Oscar Wilde).

    Ten years ago, on the last day of my hospital chaplaincy training at the Veterans’ Hospital in New York City, a patient put a few dollars in my hand. ‘J’ had been locked up in the psychiatric ward for five months because of severe PTSD and several failed suicide attempts. He thanked me for accompanying him with conversation and prayer. I tried returning the money to him. He wouldn’t take it back. When the shift ended, I took the lift down with the duty doctor. She shared that those few dollars were ‘J’’s only allowance for the week. “He ain’t having his Coca-cola and Snicker’s this week; he’s ain’t got no cash,” she said. “Mighty good of him, to thank you” she added. The gift was huge. She understood.

    Like the doctor, Jesus watches and understands the widow. His mercy overflows. His compassion feels. He alone understands her two coins – they are not money; they are her generous, sacrificial love. He teaches his disciples this.

    How many times has Jesus really, truly understood each of us? Accepting our context. Hearing our stories. Recognizing our own need to be mercied by him. Even now he is gazing on us with generous love. He understands and calls us blessed. He commands us to do likewise. Shall we?

    Yes, Jesus watches us always. To know us. To hope we will love generously. To bless us as we are. He looks out for us with love to become better – for God and everyone. Isn’t this the Good News we need to hear today?



    *Pope Francis, Homily, 26 November 2018

    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    Photo: gifer.com

     

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  10. Year B / Ordinary Time / Week 31 / Sunday
    Readings: Deuteronomy 6.2-6 / Psalm 17.2-3a, 3bc-4, 47, 51ab (R/v 2) / Hebrews 7.23-28/ Mark 12.28b-34


    “I love you, Lord, my strength” (Ps 18.2)

    We recited this refrain in our responsorial psalm. Why should we love God as our strength?

    Every end of the year is unsettling. There is a sense of impending change and unexpected adjustments even as we hope for better in the new year. 

    In schools, students are graduating or being promoted upwards. Some teachers are retiring while others are moving on to new schools and appointments.  We are grappling with change.  Perhaps, you are too in life and at work. In fact, we are all wrestling in the hope to end this pandemic safety.

    What keeps us centered or focussed in times of change and struggle?

    Perhaps, love.  Some years back a parent described our school’s farewell to her daughter and her peers as “profoundly a message of love to the students.” This gave them a foundation, a reference point, a belief, a unifying experience, she emphasized.

    Why would love matter in a time of change and struggle? Love roots us to a place and gives us an identity. Love keeps us focused on experiences that shape and define us and give us reason to live. Love centers us on family and friends who are our life companions. However, don’t we tend to push love aside as we sort out anticipated changes or worry about the struggles? 

    What kind of love matters then? Not the transient, self-absorbed, self-fulfilling love contemporary society projects and promotes. Rather, love that is centered on others, love that pours itself out selflessly for another. Christians know this kind of love. It is Jesus’s sacrificial love. This reveals how God loves.

    Jesus commands us to love like this. To the scribe who asks the question we also ask, “Which commandment is the first of all commandments,” Jesus replies: “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” And he adds: “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” 

    For Jesus both commandments are connected: loving God with all our being is one and the same as loving our neighbour.

    Don’t we know this? Because God loves, yes, we serve. We care for the needy. We feed the hungry. We shelter the refugee. We employ the migrant. We nurse the sick. We educate the little. We reach out to the outcasts. 

    Yet, we constantly find ourselves falling short. Not loving wholeheartedly.  Not loving selflessly. Perhaps, loving with that selfish agenda to score points for heaven.  And in this pandemic time, loving others less to take care of ourselves more.  So, we find ourselves having to learn and re-learn how to love others as Jesus commands. Why is it hard to love like God?

    Maybe because we are only dispensing service in the name of love. We are not loving others in relationship when we serve them. God always loves in relationship with another.

    This is Jesus’ point in the first commandment. To love God is to enter into God’s love. Into complete love that holds us, saint and sinner alike. Into the fullness of love that gives us rest when we are weary and hope when we despair. Into boundless love that forgives us when we fail, restores us when we suffer, and brings us home when we get lost.

    In this relationship, God promotes and fosters love because He is unmitigated giving and unlimited forgiveness. In this image and likeness of God we are made to love.

    “Love your neighbour as yourself,” Jesus commands. “Who is your neighbour, Lord?” “Anyone who I meet along the way” is how I imagine Jesus answering us. In the Gospels, Jesus attends to anyone and everyone in need. His eyes see and his heart wants what is good for them. Not a thing or service but connection, belonging, acceptance, care, love to share. Jesus offers them friendship. We should beg to have Jesus’s eyes and heart, and so imitate his way of looking out for, listening to, and being close to those in need of a relationship.

    For Pope Francis, to love our neighbours like Jesus demands we be “attentive to their need for fraternal closeness, for a meaning to life, and for tenderness." To love like this saves us, Francis exhorts, from “the risk of being communities that have many initiatives but few relationships; the risk of being community ‘service stations’ but with little company.”* 

    In comparison, it is in the fullness of God’s company that we can in turn accompany and serve others through loving relationships. Both two dimensions of love, for God and for neighbour, must characterize the wholeness of the Christian life. This is how Jesus lived on earth. He proved the possibility of loving like this.

    We cannot claim to love our neighbour without loving God. It is also deceptive to claim we love God without loving our neighbour. They are inseparable; they sustain one another. They come together in Jesus in his all-embracing love for God fully and all peoples sacrificially. This is why Jesus is our strength to love when change distracts and struggles burden us to love.

    Shall we ask Jesus to help us love?




    * Pope Francis, Angelus, 4 November 2018

    Preached at St Ignatius Church, Singapore
    photo: lightfieldstudio.com (internet)
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"Bukas Palad"
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I hope you will find in these posts something that speaks to you of the God who loves us all and who always holds us in the palm of his hand. Blessings!
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Fall in Love, Stay in Love
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"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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