Brothers & Sisters

“How did you find the experience of breaking fast, at the Inter-Religious event the other night?” Daniel asked me as we were hanging around, waiting for more pages to proofread before sending them off to print.

(The report of this event lay in the pile of pages we had been reading.)

“It was good!” I replied.

In fact, I had attended the very first such gathering when Mr Ameerali Abdeali, President of the Muslim Kidney Action Association, also Honorary Secretary of the Inter-Religious Organisation in Singapore, had invited friends of various faiths to partake in breaking fast (Iftar), back during Ramadan in 2006.

That first experience had blown me away - to witness laypeople and religious of different faiths dialoguing and sharing experiences as friends.

Daniel asked me what I liked about such interreligious affairs.

“When you strip people of the identity-garments they don, all you’re really left with, is who they are – human beings – the same as everyone else.

It is easy to mentally classify/categorise people you meet. Not in a judgemental way, but definitely in a way that you think will help you have a semblance of an idea of who they are, or how to relate better to them.

And most definitely, when you see a religious person in a habit, hijab, etc, straightaway you think of them as Catholic, Muslim… but when you take away all of these ‘uniforms’ – as such interreligious affairs are meant to encourage – you see that your neighbour is really no different from you. We are all merely children of God.”

Of course, interreligious dialogue and events alone cannot change the world. It cannot make people want to become brothers and sisters. It does not blur the lines that differ one religion from another.

Still, it is one step forward. 

In the right direction.

Filed under: GOD, Game of Life

The One About Hungry Ghost Festival

Inadvertently, this Hungry Ghost Festival, I ended up talking to supposed spirits, after all.

The irony is that, I don’t even remember that I used to do that, when I participated in the customary ‘rites’ for this festival with my family and this year, it is while working on a story for CN that I actually ’talked’ to … erm, the spirits? 

Being raised in a Taoist/Buddhist family, and then joining the Catholic Church when I was in my mid-20s, I have always had a sense of wondering about how I, as a Catholic, should respond to certain customs that my family practises, especially when a part of me still feels certain nostalgia at not being able to participate in these practices with my family anymore (details in this week’s CN).

So it was that this year, my curiosity centred on the Hungry Ghost Festival.

In the midst of preparing the story, I revisited some past encounters I’ve had with… erm, spirits. And boy, are they many! (I am actually still contemplating if I should share those experiences on this blog…)

A part of me was afraid that working on this article would attract unnecessary attention from spirits, demons, devils, whatever you wish to call them of the spiritual world…

Talking to a few priests on this matter helped lots.

In any case, I had to take some photos of some of the customary practices surrounding the Hungry Ghost Festival – paper offerings being burnt, candles being lit, food being left outside as offering to wandering spirits, getais (staged performances), etc…

Finally, one day, I found a good spot at Sin Ming Drive. It was a secluded spot and the offerings were left out by the grass patch – still fresh, with candles still lit.

I pulled out my camera and gingerly advanced towards it.

Now, because of my past encounters with spirits, I was still much hesitant to capture these shots.

I took one step towards the offerings.

And I said inwardly, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I mean no disrespect, I just need to take the picture…”

Then, I stopped.

What am I doing? Who am I talking to?

The questions asked; the circular logic began: Wait a minute. I don’t believe there’re wandering spirits around waiting to eat this food… But better safe than sorry! … I’m a Catholic, not a Taoist… Just apologise and if they’re there, they’ll excuse you; if they’re not there, it doesn’t matter anyway…

In the end, I made a short prayer: God, you know I’m not being disrespectful. I just need to take a photograph. Spirit or no spirit around, I entrust this situation to you. (And please don’t let them disturb me!)

*snap snap snap*

The entire experience made it so clear to me that, while I feel this immense sense of liberation, it is so easy to fall back into the bondage of being slave to beliefs that contradict our Catholic faith.

Still, it was through this very experience, that I fully comprehended just how free I am now. While in the past, I would’ve been truly fearful that I may be offending some spirits (even though I don’t even think I ever believed in the Hungry Ghost Festival), this time round, I know the only reason why I was ‘apologising’ to them is because of a remnant of such beliefs so deeply instilled in me.

That is the only reason; nothing else.

What is missing – I notice with a blinding clarity – is fear.

I am free.

Filed under: 1, GOD, Game of Life

The Angels Around Us

I have a confession to make: I have no desire to talk to priests (or religious).

No particular reason, except that I have as much yearning to talk to them, as I do with a stranger.

I admire priests and religious a lot – oh yes, that I do – for their fervour of faith, courage and spirit of self-sacrifice. But do I take special interest in them because of their vocation? I can’t say I do.

In a strange way, perhaps I tend to think of them as the authority in church as well, and the idea of approaching them is like the idea of visiting your principal in the office for a chat.

And why I say it’s strange, is because in all the last five years as a Catholic and four years with CN, I have spoken with many priests and very, very seldom, do I encounter one who treated me like a disciplinarian would.

Let me see: off the Veritas website, I counted 67 priests I have encountered in the last few years – most of whom I have met for interviews, some of whom I have spoken with over the phone; the rest, through ministry work.

Many, many, many have touched me in so many countless ways.

Some for their very unique personalities and hobbies – like Father Alfred Chan who has, in his collection, over 20,000 books which he took pride in showing me when I approached him for a story.

Or Father Albert Ng, who took time to share his views of the spiritual world and laid my 20-over-year-old fears to rest; Father Rene Nicolas for being such a charming Frenchman who has such passion for history… Father Paul Staes who is such an inspiration for his persistence in his social mission cause…

How about those amazingly humble men like our Monsignor Francis Lau who still makes times for those who need him, Fathers John Sim, Kenny Tan, Patrick Goh, Peter Paul, Colin Tan and Louis Loiseau, who each, have plenty on their hands but nevertheless, takes another five minutes of time to be with you, and makes the effort to speak a kind word of affirmation and encouragement out of the blue?

Then there are the ones who leave you feeling like you’ve encountered God’s special angel of the day – priests like Father Frans de Ridder, Father Ambrose Vaz, Monsignor Eugene Vaz (who incidentally, smokes with us!) or Father Michael Arro, who indulges you with such a brilliant and welcoming smile and acknowledgement that you feel like you are all they were looking forward to see that day?

I wouldn’t want to forget priests like Fathers Henry Siew, Joseph Tan, Frederick Quek, Timothy Yeo, Jacob Ong, and many others, who avail themselves to hear you out when you need their advice, comments, suggestions…

And of course, there are the unexpected moments of conversations with priests whom you look for, for work and whom you end up sharing ideas and reflections with – who also inspires me in ministry work because they managed to share perspectives I missed or to vocalise the ponderings I had within… priests like Fathers John-Paul Tan, William Goh, Edmund Chong, Erbin Fernandez…

Also, there are the priests who have somehow made me forget they are priests – not in a bad way! – but in a way that they feel more like friends… the younger ones like Fathers Luke Fong and Brian D’Souza…  

Special mention of course to my three favourite priests – my parish priest Father Andrew Wong who has always, always been there for me… the one whom I was pretty much terrified of when he first came to the parish, but also the one who had grown so much and been so open the parish is visibily seen to flourish now… Father John Nguyen van Dich who makes us feel like we are the most special people in the world, exactly the way God made us to be, without blemish, fault and failing, and with such acceptance, makes us want to become better people already, and of course, my boss, Father Johnson Fernandez, who shies away from media (the irony!) and remains the one and only priest whom I would identify straightaway as a true “Shepherd of God”.

This “Our Father” series that CN is working on has in a way, allowed me to talk to even more priests… desire to talk or not, it has been such a privilege to have these men touch my life in their own way… funny thing is, they don’t have to do BIG things… it’s the littlest, smallest ways each of them expressed so unknowingly and naturally, that their biggest impact is made.

And we still wonder if there’re angels around us?

Filed under: GOD, Game of Life

Unwanted Phone Calls

Just the other day, when I was reading through Cathnews, my mobile phone rang and when I picked up the phone, an aged and somewhat raspy - though not unpleasantly so – voice introduced herself and asked how she could go about writing something for CN.

Within two minutes of the conversation, I knew it was “one of those calls” – from people seeking an outlet for their frustration at things gone wrong within their church.

Without going into details, this woman wanted to write a letter of complaint of her hurt caused by a fellow parishioner in the ministry they served in. Apparently, that person had made a remark about her not having the Holy Spirit with her.

I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer.

We ended up having a rather nice and brief chat and I *think* I managed to convince her that the best thing to do would be to approach the spiritual director of the ministry to explain what had happened and ask him for advice on how to deal with her hurt.

The conversation ended well and I sincerely wish her all the best. Serving in ministry can be painful at times, when you encounter difficult and accusatory people who seem to be there simply to pick on your faults and failures… but nevertheless, letters of complaints or comments to be placed on your adversary’s Facebook profiles, is not the way to go.

I was glad that I had managed to sneak in a quick prayer before responding to the caller. All she needed was an avenue to channel her frustration and pain. I don’t think it would’ve helped if I had been clinical and told her CN is not the place for her to do that.

Also, I remember all the many calls that came my way.

There was one lady who called to complain about her parish’s St. Vincent De Paul to reach out to a few specific needy she knew. In that bitterness, she had railed out against the Church and to her, the Church was only good for speaking about social mission, without real efforts to help.

I tried to explain to her that inadvertently and most unfortunately, there will always be a few people who would fall through the net of help given. But the more I tried to reason with her, the angrier she got.

She spoke for 45 minutes. At some point, she was yelling at me. That made me angry.

I was praying for guidance on how to end the phone call. And then, I don’t remember what happened but I managed to get a word in, say something that I don’t remember to her, and she responded, “Thank you for listening to me. I’m sorry if I was yelling at you.” And then she hung up.

Amazing!

Still, I have to confess that I’m not always this patient. There have been many callers who didn’t receive better from me. There was even one man who had been insulting me the whole time he was on the phone, whom eventually, I slammed the phone down on.

What happened next was instantaneous: The moment the receiver touched the phone and I knew the line went dead, the bout of guilt that hit me penetrated my entire being. It was like my system went into shock. I had done wrong.

And of course, I just had to remember with so much clarity, the late Father David Thexeira telling us as catechumens, that to reject a phone call is to commit the sin of rejection. Of all times to have such great memory.

That was the time I knew, I had to find better recourse to handle such phone calls. So each time they call, I quickly say a prayer, before their anger over their individual situations get to me, and I react negatively as well.

I can’t say I don’t mind receiving unwanted calls. It’s still very tough. I keep thinking to myself, “I’m not a helpline. I can’t solve your problems!” And then I remember I don’t have to, but just to listen.

It’s tough. So if you’re the one calling me, do say a prayer for me too!

Filed under: General

How to Be a Lay Apostle

Being a convert (I was baptised only in 2004), oftentimes, I find myself reflecting upon what I have really baptised myself into.

Usually, the answer in my head is the image of a cartoon strip I saw once, where in the first frame, a bunch of Jews were wandering around aimlessly and in the second frame, one of them looks up (supposedly at God) and cries out, “Isn’t it time you choose some people else?!?!”

That pretty much sums up my entire experience of entering the Church. As catechumens, we were told that we are chosen and called by God. Then, that statement somehow meant privilege and honour. As a five-year-old Catholic now, I realise it still means ‘privilege’, but it is one which makes us participants in cross-carrying.

Without bringing up the BIG crosses, like, staring at sickness and death, undergoing persecution on account of doing God’s work, striving to hold onto our faith in the face of sufferings, let’s just talk about the ’small’ ones - risking hostile stares to talk about Christ to people who have not encountered Him, trying your hardest not to pick up ammunition to throw at irksome colleagues but to be patient with them, availing yourself to listen to mum’s grouses after a long, hard and emotional day, or simply, to be on the side of justice and right, instead of the side you most desire to be standing on.

Because the Church celebrates Lay Apostolate on Aug 16, I decided to read up a little on it.

Apparently, Vatican II emphasised the importance of the lay apostolate because the “central importance among the rights and duties of the Church’s members that arise from baptism are the right and duty to participate in the mission of the Church”.

Because we are the ones who can go into secular areas of work, community, social and leisure, where priests and religious aren’t able to, the privilege to bring Christ with us to our world outside the Church lies with us.

Canon Francis J. Ripley, Catholic priest, reminds us in “What Is the Lay Apostolate?”, that “in every temporal affair, the Council insists, lay people must be guided by a Christian conscience because even in secular business there is no human activity that can be withdrawn from God’s dominion” and that “Charity enables the laity to express the spirit of the Beatitudes in their lives. Following Jesus they will be detached from earthly things and imitate humility.”

The areas I had mentioned above happen to be the particular areas for me to practise this business of lay apostolate, of being Christian.

I have to try, because I promised God to be one of His when I answered His call to get baptised.

Also, because I have been the recipient of many who shared how their lives have been touched by God, a personal vocation I struggle to fulfil is to testify to God’s love as I have received it.

As the only Catholic in the family, I feel a sense of responsibility (and stress, sometimes!) that whatever choices my family sees me make in my life, must reflect the teachings of the Church. And when they ask why I do what I do, there is the opportunity that God gives me every now and then, to talk about Him to them.

In the business of faith formation at church (RCIA and now LANDINGS), I see God’s grace in continuing to shape and concretise my understanding of Him and His Church with every session I serve at, which helps when I need to talk about God.

But it is in my encounters with individuals in the everyday situations of our lives, that I struggle the hardest. I suspect it’s because these situations are so random that it catches me by surprise – which really means I’m not aware of my Christian duties enough to not be irritated by the colleague who backstabs, the self-absorbed stranger who tries to push her way around, the errant driver on the road who tailgates me (and that just makes me want to chase him down after), my over-exhausted brother who comes home only to throw his tantrums around somedays…

What do I do in return? I take in a deep breath and move away from the situation, telling myself to ignore them – instead of recognising that I should accept them.

I don’t see how I am being Christian, but I am trying. Somedays, harder than others.

There are times I want to give up but then reading about Lay Apostolate reaffirmed why I cannot. Not when us laity, just as much as clergy and religious, “are called by God to strive for highest levels of sanctity – to be saints”.

Often, I wonder if I’m the only one who has to struggle like that. For others, it seems so natural that they are patient and kind, whereas I am always the impulsive and vindictive one. How can I be God’s saint this way when I’m barely trying? Am I alone in feeling this way?

But then I chanced upon St. Augustine’s beautiful quotation that gives me comfort and answer. He wrote: ”What I am for you terrifies me; what I am with you consoles me. For you I am a bishop; but with you, I am a Christian. The former is a duty; the latter a grace. The former is a danger; the latter, salvation.”

One can pray. After all, we are all sinners and saints alike.

Filed under: GOD, Game of Life

How Mahjong Can Make You a Better Christian

Every other game of mahjong I play is when I aim to hit 5-limit cards. The only times I don’t try to make a full suit is when I have a lot of “flower” cards already – those are additional points – then, I will try to game as soon as possible.

Now it isn’t that I’m being greedy. I only play among friends and with friends, money is never the goal. It’s the thrill I’m after – to know if I can finish the game plan or not.

So when someone else games before me, I get very much excitable. And when I am close to completing my own set, I get even more thrilled and want to show my friends what I have in my collection.

Sometimes, we show one another our cards at the end of each game. Sometimes, we don’t. It depends on the individual.

Recently, I realise that the challenge to not open my cards at the end of one game, can be pretty trying. I would want to show off my nicely fitted cards to my friends, either to ‘wow’ them with the cards I have, or to whine and lament about how close I am to finishing the game and why someone else had to game before me.

For a while now, I have thought how much of an act of humility can be practised from adopting a mahjong-etiquette of simply quietly folding my cards back and letting it go, however spectacular they may be.

I’ve been trying; succeeding sometimes and failing at others. It has not been easy, just quietly folding my cards without lament or pride.

The other strange thing about mahjong is, you tend to feel as if ‘luck’ exists. Those who know how to play mahjong can probably testify to how things have an exceptionally strange way of turning out in games. There are common ‘passed-down’ superstitious practices, like changing seats if you’re losing, calling for the card you want, knocking one tile against a similar one you want so it appears, etc..

But because I play only with my friends who are also Catholics, we make it a point to bring God into the game. Like, when we are tempted to be cheeky and make remarks like calling upon our mahjong cards to present themselves in our favour, or to make statements like, “Luck is with me today”, or “Tonight, no luck!”, the others of us will respond, “No need to change seats. There’s no such thing as luck. It’s just a game.”

Our God is bigger than any ‘luck’ there might exist out there, we remind one another. And we end up having a good time and sharing faith experiences.

Never have I imagined that even a game of mahjong can be a practice of humility and Christian sharing.

If you have other innovative ideas of how to practise Christian humility (or other morals) in the everyday business of our lives, do share, then perhaps I can be more mindful of God in the other areas of my life too.

In the meantime, I guess the games will continue amongst us friends who serve together at Church of the Holy Spirit, friends who have shared one another’s joyous occasions and loss; we shall try to learn that precious lesson of humility, and to continue placing our God higher and above than banal ‘luck’.

After all, as the late Father David Thexeira who baptised me, informed us while we were going through RCIA, only to have a few of us cheeky catechumens break out into giggles, “Catholics have no luck!”

Filed under: GOD, Game of Life

The Miracle of 1104

Just over the weekend at a Day of Recollection retreat held for our LANDINGS team at Church of the Holy Spirit, in preparation of the new journey to begin July 11, I was reminded of a miracle that had happened the year I was in RCIA as a catechumen.

The first time I heard this story was after we had returned from our Lenten retreat, back in 2004. The details have not changed, as Mr C (coordinator of RCIA and now LANDINGS), also a very good friend of mine, shared last weekend:

“That was my first year as coordinator of RCIA. I think God knew I still needed signs of affirmation from him,” he confessed.

“At that retreat, when I got back the love offering box after it went round and counted the money, I was $1,104 short. I had counted all the cash in the box! The only thing I didn’t include in the pool was a cheque that someone had put in as love offering too.

In my head, I was quarrelling with God already. ‘Want me to do your work and still have to pay out money too!’,” he laughed, recollecting the memory. “I picked up the cheque – I mean, how much can it be right? $50?” He sighed melodramatically to his then captivated audience.

“And when I opened the cheque – it was folded – I almost fell off my chair. The cheque was made out with a contribution of, $1, 104.”

…

Mr C subsequently called up the lady who made the donation to thank her. And of course, he asked why she donated such a sum of money.

She replied, “Two months ago when I gave you a cheque of $1,000 for donation, you didn’t want to accept it, telling me that the ministry was still doing okay with funds. But you see, I had made a covenant with God that I would give Him a percentage of my profits from my business. Now, two months later, you needed funding for our retreat… I had to top up the additional $104 that I promised to God!”

God sure has a way of connecting the dots in His time…

Mr C said ruefully, “These miracles don’t happen to me anymore. Maybe God knew my state of being then, I was still very much in need of such signs. Now, I like to think I trust Him more… He doesn’t need to ‘prove’ His presence as much.”

My takeaway message:
- Miracles exist. Just look out for them.
- God does not play favourites. If someone else experiences miracles and you don’t, thank God for your faith that you still trust Him.

1104. Four digits that revealed God’s presence to us who needed that affirmation.

Have you encountered God today? If you too, have such experiences, why not share them because you never know, the person you’re telling might be in need of exactly such a testimony.

And that, to him, could be the very miracle he needed for the day.

Filed under: GOD

Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Book”

The book was purchased from BORDERS on 8 April this year (2009).

It sat forlornly on my shelf next to “Good Omens”, book jointly written by Teri Pretchett and Mr Gaiman himself. But it was only last week that I picked it up and started to read it.

In my opinion, it was a delightful read for adults and an exceptionally wondrous adventure for children to partake in.

The best way to describe this was put forth by Garth Nix, Australian author of young fantasy novels: “I wish my younger self could have had the opportunity to read and reread this wonderful book, and my older self wishes that I had written it.”

Honestly, I don’t think this is the best book Neil has written. Not that I have read a lot of his books, besides his Sandman (graphic novel) collection.

But the other one that I had read, “Neverwhere”, blew me away. That story is about an entire underground world that exists in London, where good and evil reign and their age-old battle continues. That one brought me to a different realm altogether and I highly recommend that to anyone who enjoys a good parody, allegory, and concrete reality being mapped onto ever-mystical fantasy.

This one, “The Graveyard Book”, is about a young boy who was taken under protection by an old graveyard and its inhabitants – ghosts of hundreds to thousands to time infinite, years ago – when he was being pursued by the killer who murdered his family when he was a mere babe. The story continues with his adventures in the graveyard and how he unravelled the mystery of his killer…

And of course, with Neil Gaiman, he introduces whole new worlds together with that.

It is a delicious book to read. Some chapters a lot more than others. He is the master of creating tales of fantasy – all kinds. When you read his book, you don’t read words. You travel. Not just to faraway lands but to lands that exist only in a distant memories that you absolutely have no recollection of ever experiencing, in dreams that are ever familiar but you don’t remember ever having, in the boundaries of your Imagination you never knew you were capable of reaching.

Highly recommended for those who need to unwind with a good read, but without wishing to be too emotionally drawn into the tale.

And at the end, when I read his acknowledgements, I was thrilled to stumble upon his thanks to Audrey Niffeneggar (author of “The Time Traveller’s Wife”), the one whose book I had laughed, cried and spent huge amounts of emotions on! She is an amazing author and it was after her this first novel that I started to look out for first-time novelists.

(I should probably write to her to get some form of commission cos to date, I have physically bought four to five copies of her book as gifts to my friends and pushed a lot more others to get it! It was named “Tomorrow’s Classics” by BORDERS. I think that speaks for itself.)

Two of my favourite contemporary authors.

Tantalising, captivating, enchanting and wondrous.

Filed under: Books

The Marathon Priest

August, my fiance, and I were in the car yesterday when my mobile sounded an “Incoming Message” alert tone. Retrieving the message, I see that it’s from Father Michal Gitner and it read: “How is tml 2pm?”

I replied to confirm the time for our interview, the one that I went to this morning.

“I love priests with mobile phones. It makes communicating with them so much easier,” I told August. “This one SMS-es as well!”

Then again, communicating with Father Michal has never been much of a problem.

I remember the day at CN office when I had to contact him for his new appointment (then) to St. Joseph Church (Bukit Timah). If memory serves me well, he had just touched down from Australia but because the issue that was going to print carried the report of seven new priests’ appointments and transfers to different parishes, I had to rush to get the eighth transfer story - Father Michal Gitner’s.

He made my job so easy – making himself available to my questions and going the extra mile after to search for, and send me a photograph of himself.

Today, I went to see him at Church of St. Francis of Assisi to get a story on the Sundown marathon that he ran to raise funds for the victims of Cyclone Nargis in Myanmar.

Yes, Father Michal is one of two “marathon priests” in our archdiocese.

Only when I got there did I learn he would be returning back to Australia come July. That sort of made me sad.

Funny thing. Because it isn’t as if I see him a lot so his departure would make a difference. But still, just knowing that he would be going back makes me acutely aware that I probably will never see this priest again.

In the midst of our interview, someone knocked on his door and he went to answer it.

A young woman stood there, apologising profusely for interrupting and yet, she seemed reluctant to leave. Polite as ever, Father Michal explained that he was engaged (with me) at the moment but asked if there was anything he could do for her.

She explained that her mum was dying and he invited her in to take down the necessary details for him to pay a visit after the interview.

“I am Father Michal and I promise I will be there at the hospital by 4.00pm latest,” he assured very kindly.

Then, he went on to acknowledge that this young woman must be going through a painful period and ended by telling her firmly yet gently, “It isn’t easy. But let us be grateful for the almost 90 years we have with her.”

The young woman teared almost instantly.

At that point, I remembered how he was like to me when I had visited him for another story previously.

While he was walking me out after that interview, he asked how it was like for me to work at CN. I don’t remember what I told him but I must have simply fumbled through my reply.

He didn’t seem to, though. Thoughtful as ever, he affirmed that the work must be difficult at times and thanked me for continuing this work.

What I remember most about that incident (and today’s with the young woman) is that he doesn’t have to be this kind. He didn’t need to make the effort to say something positive. But he did.

True enough, when I was leaving his office, he again repeated his gesture of generosity.

“It must not be easy, doing God’s work sometimes. It can get very difficult, as with these things. But you are needed to share stories and make people aware of what’s happening. You are doing good.”

It was with somewhat a heavy heart that I left his office, saying goodbye and wishing him well. Not knowing how appropriate it was for me to hug a priest, I offered my hand instead but he took me into his arms and laughed, “We are ang mohs. We hug!”

It feels like only a couple of months have passed since I first made that telephone call to Father Michal Gitner who just arrived in Singapore. That was two years ago.

Almost fittingly, I am working on my last story of this Polish-born priest before he leaves. The one who ran the Standard Chartered 42-kilometre Marathon 2008 on behalf of 12-year-old Matthew who suffers from acute myeloid leukaemia, to raise funds for the victims of Cyclone Nargis, and who just completed another one towards the same cause this year.

I can’t say I know Father Michal well. But from the things he shares – an example would be, when asked how the St. Francis of Assisi parishioners supported him, his reply consisted of their offerings of glucos, pasta, ointments, etc… – it seems he cherishes the little things.

And like I told August much later on, “He doesn’t have to go the extra mile. He’s already serving as a priest should. But because he makes the effort to encourage and affirm, like towards that young woman in the office today, he opens that window for us to see the same bad things with a different perspective, in a different light – so we don’t only see the bad but we begin to notice the blessing amidst the pain as well.”

 

The story of Father Michal Gitner running Sundown Marathon 2009 will be available in CN June 28, 2009.

For previous stories on Father Michal, visit http://www.catholicnews.sg/index.php?searchword=michal+gitner&ordering=&searchphrase=all&option=com_search

Filed under: GOD, Game of Life

The Pulse of Jesus

Usually, after I receive communion, I continue to hold my hand palm-up and after returning to my pew, the first thing I do is to check if there are any specks of the host left on my palm.

This, I suppose, is the result of a good formation by Father David Thexeira, who passed away in December 2008. He was the Spiritual Director when I was going through RCIA and when we neared Easter (when we get baptised), he shared with us the importance of being reverent to the Body of Christ.

He said, “I see people returning to their pews after receiving communion and dusting their hands, as if to dust off any remaining bits. But when you tell them there is gold dust on their palms, they will make sure they pick out every bit left!”

Then there is the other story:

“Overseas, on Halloween, the Catholic Church watches carefully who receives communion. Wardens are tasked to ensure that those who do, consume the communion within their sight.”

“This is not because we are paranoid. But because in other countries where satanic worship is not uncommon, satan worshippers would sneak into church to take the communion host, hide it, and perform satanic rituals on it later.”

The surprising bit is this: “Even the satan worshippers believe that the host is the Body of Christ! And we, Catholics, don’t even treat the host with as much reverence!”

Indeed.

In recent months, I found myself having adopted another personal ritual. After checking for remnants of the host, I place my right thumb onto my left palm, close my left hand around the thumb, and with my right hand holding my left, I give thanks.

For a while now, that gesture has left me feeling very much in touch with Jesus. Not only did I consume Him, I get to touch Him as well!

Yesterday, at Mass, I did the same and while I was on my knees, I felt a pulse in my left palm – a slow but steady pulse. And I looked up at the rest of the congregation queuing up for communion and I see in them, the Body of Christ.

I spoke to Jesus, “I can feel your pulse! Thank you for letting me feel you…”

At the same time, my mind rationalised this through instantly (faster than I like, sometimes) and it said to me: “That’s not Jesus’ pulse. It’s yours.”

I know that, of course.

But I acknowledged within myself, “Jesus is in me. I am the Body of Christ too.”

If my pulse is beating, is that not because of Christ living within?

Yes, it is.

Amen!

Filed under: GOD