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: Game of Life, GOD

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, Game of Life, GOD

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: Game of Life, GOD

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: Game of Life, GOD

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: Game of Life, GOD

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: Game of Life, GOD