Surprising Grace

Here we are again at that strange, blessed in-between time, between the old year and the new. I always appreciate this interval between the busy-ness of Christmas and the welcoming of the new year – a kind of fallow space in which to gather the blessings of the year that has passed, and listen to the new hopes and dreams emerging in our hearts for the future. It is a time for gratitude, and also for renewing our commitment to what truly matters. As I looked back over this year, this passage from Rainer Maria Rilke’s “ Letter to a Young Poet ” spoke particularly to me: You ask whether your verses are good. You ask me. You have asked others before. You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems. … I beg you to give up all that. You are looking outward, and that above all you should not do now. Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write; find out whether it is spreading out its ro

All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation by our God. Sing joyfully to the Lord, all you lands; break into song; sing praise. (Psalm 3b-4) The readings at Christmas are full of joy that seemingly cannot be contained. Our God has done a new thing, they proclaim – Christ has come! Of all the readings, though, my favourite is this more solemn passage of John’s: What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1: 3b-5) A light that the darkness does not overcome: that is the hope that Christmas brings to me. Our violent, divided world – and our wounded, fickle hearts – are, incredibly, the darkness into which God’s everlasting light has come, in the form of a small child. Christmas then is a yearly reminder to us of that incredible truth that God has chosen to become incarnate in the messiness of our lives, and thus given it infinite value. Daniel O’Lear

"You, Bethlehem-Ephrathah, too small to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel.” (Micah 5: 2) Thus begins the first reading of this Sunday. This is one of many surprising statements in the scriptures, in which those who are “small” and overlooked are actually the ones blessed and chosen by God. The Gospel reading also takes up this thread as it follows the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth, two poor women from a backwater place, to whom God has inexplicably come. “And how does this happen to me…?” asks Elizabeth, not quite daring to believe (Luke 1: 43a). In fact, Jesus himself will go on to spell out this principle authoritatively in one of his best-known sermons: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” (Luke 6: 20) Most of us would have come across that verse many times. Often, though, for those of us who are not materially poor, there is a temptation to “whitewash” the statement; to avoid it

"Shout for joy…! Sing joyfully…! … [The Lord] will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love; he will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals.” (Zephaniah 3: 14, 17-18a) Have you ever experienced someone bursting into joyful song because of you? Those who have fallen in love with another have perhaps experienced such joyful expressions of love in other ways – in a heartfelt letter, in a tender embrace, or in the particular way that our beloved looks at us. This Sunday’s readings call us to rejoice, because God loves us just as passionately – and more! How do we experience God’s love? At some points in our lives, of course, it is difficult to believe in our beloved-ness: in times in confusion and hardship, in times when we are aware of our failings and imperfections, in times when we feel lonely and in pain. But the coming of Christ in the stable, light to a people suffering and oppressed, reminds us that God in God’s infinite love is already

This Sunday’s first reading and psalm speak of the return of Israel’s children, who were exiles in a strange land. “[L]ook to the east,” says the prophet, “and see your children gathered from east and west…. Led away on foot by their enemies they left you, but God will bring them back to you…” (Baruch 5: 5-6) Do you ever feel, like Israel, the pain of exile? Of alienation? That existential loneliness that comes from being disconnected from ourselves, from each other, from our environment, and therefore from God? Much ink has been spilled on what some have now termed the “loneliness epidemic” in our societies. Technological innovation has made possible many improvements in the way we live. Through the internet we are more connected than ever – but, ironically, increasing numbers of people are feeling lonely, starved of quality contact with others. The influence of the digital world “can stop people from learning how to live wisely, to think deeply and to love generously.” (Lau

Nowadays, my daily routine involves traveling a little more than an hour each day to my place of work (and back again in the evening), a big part of it on foot through drab-looking residential streets and across two dusty, polluted highways. In the last few weeks, however, it has given me much pleasure to see Christmas decorations going up bit by bit in the places I pass: a lighted star in someone’s window; wreaths made of recycled bottles on a bridge; and in the doorway of someone’s small tin shack – a complete nativity scene! These little bits of green and tinsel are more than just the trappings of Christmas… they are for me signs that point beyond. They hint at what we often forget: that behind the dull exteriors of the spaces we inhabit and the sheer familiarity of our daily grind is something extraordinary. The divine is indeed already present here among us, in the very places of our everyday challenges, boredom, and joy. This is what Christmas celebrates: that God has come

(This post is continued from How to Discern a Vocation to Religious Life: Part I ) Of course, we aren’t always in touch with what our deep desires are in the first place. What often preoccupy us are the shrill and incessant voices of what I will call our “surface” desires (for chips and chocolates). One of the things that helped me in my process of discernment, then, was cultivating my awareness of what was going on inside me. (I’ve written about this before in a blog post on getting in touch with the daily “movements” of our hearts .) To continue the story then: once the two-month period I had given myself had passed, besides gathering information about various congregations of religious sisters, I also started a practice known in Catholic circles as “spiritual direction”, in which I talked to someone regularly about my spiritual life, and this person helped me to notice and become more aware of how I was experiencing God’s action in my daily life. In addition, I went to retrea

A while ago a reader of this blog asked me, “How did you discern that religious life was for you?” As we have talked a little about discerning life choices here on this blog, I thought I might post my response here too and add to that conversation. Do feel free to leave comments or write back about your own thoughts or experiences. ***** Dear Reader, Your question reminds me of a rather interesting conversation my community had earlier this year at the dinner table when one of our sisters said that someone had asked her, “How do you know if you are called to religious life?” The four of us at the table started sharing our own stories of coming to that awareness. We were each from different countries, with age differences spanning 45 years, but surprisingly enough, while the details of each person’s journey varied widely, we noticed some common threads running through each one. The first was that each of us at some point felt a desire for religious life. While some peop

This poem is by Agustina Hartini fcJ and translated by Audrey. The original Indonesian is below. Good Shepherd, When I see the way you walk, I am amazed When I hear the way you talk, I am hypnotized When I follow your steps… I stagger to left and right But your gaze is enough to make me rise again And keep walking with you My name is Hartini; you don’t need to change it to win my heart. ***** Gembala yang baik Saat ku lihat caramu berjalan, aku terkesima Saat ku dengar caramu berbicara, aku terhipnotis Saat kuikuti langkahmu, . . .  aku terbanting ke kanan dan ke kiri namun cukup dengan tatapan matamu membuat aku bangun kembali dan berjalan terus bersamamu Namaku Hartini, tak perlu Kau menggantinya tuk dapatkan hatiku.

A while ago, I heard that a prominent government official known for promoting productivity in government had been baptised into the Catholic Church. “He can now take on a new ministry of promoting productivity in the church!” a friend of mine joked. This rather incongruous statement made me stop and think. IS productivity a value of the church? Productivity is certainly a national value in my native Singapore – right there at the top of the list along with efficiency, effectiveness, etc. We want government to be effective, which it generally is. In general, public services in Singapore work, public transport gets you places, and the economy generally runs like a well-oiled machine. All these are well and good; the results of a culture of productivity. But we can also see, I think, some of the dark side of productivity when it becomes both a national and personal obsession. When I ask people how they are these days, the invariable reply is, “Oh, busy as usual.” Working freneti

The “Paschal Mystery” is one of the central concepts of the Christian faith. The phrase is used to describe what Christians understand as the suffering, death and eventual resurrection to new life of Jesus Christ. In this way, it also describes the movement from suffering and death to resurrection and new life that we experience in our lives and in our world. In this reflection, our guest writer Leonard Mah S.J. reflects on this movement in his own life. ******** What has the Paschal Mystery got to do with our daily lives? We too are also called to experience and participate in the Paschal Mystery of Christ in our own personal way in our daily lives! It is said that we need to go through our own personal Paschal Mystery before some true quality change and conversion can take place in us. How does this happen? Like Jesus, we too are called to experience and share in his sufferings. Most of us may be tempted to only want the Easter experience: sharing only in the good thing

"Humility" is a much-prized Christian virtue (though perhaps somewhat less practiced!). So I remember being surprised when once I mentioned this in a conversation with a friend who was not a Christian and he was puzzled. "Is humility a good thing?" he asked. "Isn't it better to be proud?" When Afra sent me the reflection posted here on Thursday , then, I was curious and asked her what "humility" meant to her. "It is not thinking less about myself," she said (quoting), "but thinking about myself less. It also means that God's love is enough. My life is for God and others." Another explanation someone else insightfully gave me once was that: "Humility is accepting the truth about yourself". So, understood in this way humility isn't about having low self-esteem, or putting ourselves down, or letting ourselves be walked over like doormats -- which would NOT be a virtue! Rather, it has something to do

Our guest writer this week is Afra. One day a friend said to us jokingly, “You know…I am a humble person.”  Another friend added spontaneously, “…and proud of it!”  Hearing this, all of us roared in laughter.  Such is the paradox: how come you claim to be humble yet at the same time be proud (or boastful) about it? That piece of conversation stayed deep within me.  There is truth in it: when it comes to be that I am proud to be humble, I am not humble anymore then.  So, how can I have a humble heart? I remember a story about a saint  who, when he was given the gift of miracles, chose that he might do a great deal of good without ever knowing it.  And it was granted.  His shadow had the power to cure disease, soothe pain and comfort sorrow.  Wherever he went, people walked behind him or waited for his shadow and they were healed. What a grace to be able to ask that! I don’t think I am near to being a humble person yet. I know that I am still struggling to live it. My daily

(This post was written sometime in July.) Goodbyes are never easy. Over the last two weeks, I had the unexpected and wonderful opportunity to be in France with a group of sisters from our Society, and visit some of the places that were significant in the founding years of our Society. The 21 sisters in the group hailed from 10 countries: Indonesia, the Philippines, England, Canada, Belgium, Singapore, the United States, Australia, Ireland and Italy. I had lived with some of these sisters before and was meeting others for the first time. Despite being of such different ages, languages and cultural backgrounds, we shared food, travel inconveniences, laughter and tears. We had deep conversations and were deeply touched by each other's presence and stories. It was incredible to experience the companionship of people who were living out the same spirituality and vows as we were, but in their own different ways. All this made it so much more difficult to say goodbye on the las

This poem is by Agustina Hartini fcJ and translated by Audrey. The original Indonesian is below. So deeply touched is my heart to see your face What relief to find a stopover place It is enough to sleep soundly for one night After enjoying an evening meal. Tomorrow… whatever The day after… leave it The future… we surrender it Do I dare to hope… maybe not Do I dare to step forward… I don’t know the way Do I dare to change… I don’t know what should be changed. ***** Hatiku trenyuh melihat wajahmu Wajah kelegaan temukan persinggahan Cukup satu malam tidur nyaman Setelah menikmati makan malam. Besok, . . . entahlah Lusa, . . . . biarlah Masa depan, . . .  kami pasrah Apakah berani berharap, . . . rasanya tidak Apakah berani melangkah, . . . ku tak tahu arah Apakah berani berubah, aku tak tahu apa yang harus diubah.

Last month I went "on retreat" to a beautiful place on a hill overlooking a lake. A group of teenagers were there at the same time on a retreat programme organised by their school. I was by turns annoyed, when the noise they were making made it difficult for me to experience the silence I was hoping for, and sympathetic, when I overheard their emotional sharing with each other about their lives, not without tears. It reminded me that teenage life is not easy! One evening I was sitting quietly by myself in the garden. The sun was setting to the west, a fiery sphere of liquid gold descending gently into the silhouettes of trees cresting the hill, coloring the veils of cloud streaming across the sky a shimmering red, yellow, orange, and purple. The glorious beauty of it touched me somewhere deep inside. If I hadn't already believed in God, I would have at that moment. Into this sacred moment, of course, barged a bunch of chattering teenagers... though the beauty of th

I chatted with a friend a while ago who had recently moved abroad and was struggling to settle into her new surroundings. She talked about the disorientation she experienced - both in the physical environment, and a more interior confusion. She described in a rather amusing way her efforts to blend in with colleagues in her new workplace who came from different cultures and walks of life than she did (who loved eating fried chicken feet and talking about the birth weights of babies, both of which she was not familiar with!). She ended off saying with a sigh, "I'm not as good as I thought in communicating with different sorts of people." I was actually quite amazed by her account - by her efforts to 'insert' herself into an entirely different social, economic and cultural environment - and told her that. Actually, I don't know too many people who would have such openness and courage to go outside their comfort zones like that. On another level, her s