14 March 2024

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Categories: Reflections

Marie Therese Pang reflects on how our teaching profession is a life-giving one, and how God’s unconditional love is an invitation and a model to us, to love and value our students in the same way.

The greatest joy of teaching comes from the personal connections formed with my students. It gives me great fulfilment to guide them, witness their growth and build relationships with them, whether it is during a short chat in the canteen, responding to their reflective essays or seeing them in their element outside of the classroom. For students going through difficult periods, I find deep meaning in being a supportive presence. These moments of connection humanise the learning experience, creating an environment where students feel seen, heard, and valued.

Teaching can sometimes feel draining because the reality is that we often have to deal with complex individuals in complex circumstances. It is easy to love those who respond to our love – students who greet you warmly, are eager and ready to learn, or who openly share their struggles. But following the Lord’s commandments to love our neighbour requires us to love everyone, including the student who deliberately skipped your lesson or who is openly defiant and rude.

When I had a short teaching stint, there was a group of girls who were constantly inattentive. Irritated, I walked over and asked them to focus. One of them barked “WHAT?” so loudly at me that I felt myself shrink. I avoided her entirely and my resentment towards her grew. Instead of engaging with that group of students, I ignored them during lessons, and even refused to acknowledge them outside of class. I did not realise it then but I was not treating them with the kindness, empathy and care that they deserved. I recall complaining to my mum about these students and she said quietly, “The ones who are hardest to love, need it the most.”

In my frustration, I had forgotten that behaviours communicate a need and instead created a barrier between myself and the students. It is difficult to love people who do not reciprocate our love but Jesus loved us before we knew who He was or sought a relationship with Him. With God’s help, we can love and value our students not just as learners, but as individuals who are all children of God.

As a teacher, I find it easier to distance myself from a student’s behaviour. However, when it comes to parenting my own children, I sometimes struggle to love them as they are. My son can be strong-willed and sensitive and there were many occasions when I wished he would be easier to care for and love. Sometimes when I scroll through social media, I fall into the trap of comparing him to other children who seem better behaved, or are more adept at reading or sports. When that happens, I have to be intentional in taking a step back and acknowledge that my child is an individual, wonderfully and uniquely made.

If I dig a little deeper, my child’s behaviour affects me greatly because I see my child as a reflection of my parenting, and an extension of myself. Jesus called us to ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’ (Mark 12:31) and to give this unconditional love to others, we need to receive it for ourselves first. Receiving God’s love forces us to confront our inadequacies and weaknesses, and our feelings of unworthiness. God does not say, “I love you if..” or “I love you because..” He loves us simply for who we are.

It is in our students and children’s most difficult moments that they need our love, care and concern the most. As parents and teachers, we want the best for those under our charge and oftentimes feel the need to change them. However, we should let them bloom in their own time and season. We can demonstrate love through our words and actions, and find joy in fostering an environment where every child is valued for who they are. In both teaching and parenting, there are undoubtedly hard days. But there are also days that God will show us grace that defies expectation. It could be a moment of tenderness between your children or a small smile from the student whom you were having trouble with. The same student that I ignored welcomed me with a booming “MS PANG!” when I visited the school a few months after my teaching stint ended. What keeps me on this journey is recognising what a life-giving profession teaching is as we celebrate all our children, share God’s love and uncover the depths of joy that teaching brings.

27 February 2024

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Categories: Lent, Reflections

In Singapore, we are very blessed to have Penitential Services organised in all parishes and Catholic schools. Rev Fr Joseph Stephen, CSsR, parish priest of the Church of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, Ipoh, Malaysia laments on the dwindling numbers of children and youth who present themselves for confessions during Lent.

Lent is here again and among the Lenten practices like fasting, alms giving, works of mercy, Stations of the Cross and daily Mass, Catholics are encouraged to go for the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

The priests have come together to plan for penitential services in different parishes. This ministry will take up many nights. We run from one parish to another inviting people for the Sacrament. Some come, some don’t. It raises a question — why aren’t people coming for this Sacrament? Is there something wrong with the way it is taught or presented? Is there a Protestant influence whereby people say they can confess directly to God? Why go through a priest?

As I look back, I notice a certain trend among people. Firstly, we can hardly see youth coming for confession. This is my personal experience. There will just be a sprinkling of them. Do they have a special time in their parish for confession? I am not sure, although in our parish, we are trying to do that. Secondly, we can hardly see children who have received Holy Communion coming for confession. In many parishes, children who went for confession before holy communion, will only come again just before Confirmation.

The sad reality is that there are many people who do not go for confession. In many churches, it is difficult to find priests in the confession box before Mass because they are busy, with many Masses to cover or there is only one priest in the parish — tough going these days.

Is the Church doing enough to teach people about the need for reconciliation? Do we preach about it often enough? Do we give talks? Do we create special time for children and youth to come for confession? Maybe they are waiting for different priests to come to the parish so that they can go and celebrate this Sacrament of Reconciliation. And there is a problem. Sometimes there is a struggle with the question of venial sin and mortal sin (mortal is deadly sin). People feel they have committed venial sin (often understood as small sin). So, there is mortal sin, deadly, that breaks our relationship with God, community and self. Then we have venial sin (venia), which denotes an act of a less serious matter, which wounds our relationship with God.

I am not going to list down all the mortal sins. It is sufficient to know there is mortal sin and venial sin.

The Church teaches that all sins are wrong. Some action of ours have affected our relationship with God, with our community. There are sins that are not mortal (1 Jn 5:16-17) and there are sins that are mortal that lead to spiritual death. There are sins that do not lead us to spiritual death and there are sins that leads us to spiritual death. For these reasons, theologians, the spiritual masters, have divided them into mortal and venial sins.

There is a thinking among many of us that I have committed venial sin, a sin that does not break my communion with God or community so I do not need to go for confession.

The new rite of Sacrament of Penance promulgated by Pope Paul VI on December 2, 1973 among other things says this – “frequent and careful celebration of this sacrament is also useful as a remedy for venial sins.”

We know from experience that small mistakes cool down friendship. How many times have we not spoken to a fellow priest because of a small misunderstanding or due to some hurting remark made? How many times have couples given the cold treatment to their spouse over some misunderstanding? In some religious communities, though we stay in the same house, we do not greet each other or talk to each other because of some difference in opinions or some small mistakes.

Theologians will also tell or teach us that any number of venial sins do not make one mortal sin. However venial sin can dispose us to mortal sin in the following ways:

— By weakening our disposition of the will to obey God. One who is not faithful in small things will not be faithful in big things.

— When we live in venial sin, we forfeit the deep relationship with God by making our will more inclined towards evil. l We need to pay attention that venial sin will hamper our growth to holiness.

— Finally, sins are great obstacles to virtue. Sin inflicts the following wounds ? ignorance which hampers use of reason, malice which makes the will less disposed to good, weakness which makes it more difficult to do good. Venial sin can make holiness and growth to holiness very difficult.

Lent is a great time for us to reflect and ponder about our relationship with God and neighbours. Through our time dedicated to prayer and silence, we have the time to think about our life’s journey, our wrong-doing, big and small, and we can prepare ourselves for this sacrament of mercy.

Parents can bring their children along for the sacrament of reconciliation although they may not have committed any mortal sin or deadly sin, they may have committed some wrong that will hamper their growth in virtues.

The Church celebrates the mercy of God. It is not about judging each other but welcoming the Sacrament – Go in peace and sin no more. Our guest columnist this week is Fr Joseph Stephen, CSsR, parish priest of the Church of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, Ipoh.

Sources from Herald Malaysia Online.

8 February 2024

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Categories: Reflections

Forgiveness. A new beginning. A clean slate. As we enter the second month of 2024, and also prepare for the upcoming Lunar New Year, perhaps we too can challenge ourselves to forgive …

Ralph looked up in disbelief at what he had heard. Could this be his chance for change?

After five years in the school, Ralph had built up quite a reputation for himself – but not the kind that would endear him to any of the teachers who would be assigned to his class. He had seen the inside of the Principal’s office often enough to memorize the positions of all the things in the room. Pent up frustrations were unleashed within the walls of the staff room as teachers shared anecdotes of their day’s experience with him.

I listened in sympathy, silently yet fervently praying that I would not be the next ‘victim’ to teach Ralph in his graduating year. God answered my prayer – He said “No”.

I was told that Ralph “needed a father figure” because he lacked such a person at home. With the divorce of his parents early on in his life, Ralph came under the care of his elderly grandparents while his mother struggled to make ends meet. It was believed that this could have been the cause of Ralph’s unruly behaviour.

Thus, with no small amount of trepidation, I walked into his class at the start of the new academic year to introduce myself as their new form teacher. I glanced at the main reason for my deployment. He was looking out of the window with disinterest – his hair unkempt, his uniform un-ironed. The speech I had rehearsed to let the students know that I was no pushover and that I would accept no nonsense from them somehow did not materialise.

Instead, I heard myself say something along the lines of, “This is a new year. A time for new beginnings. A fresh start. Many of us would have probably started this year with some baggage from the past. Some of you have done things in the past, whether at home or in school, that you might not necessarily be proud of and maybe have been punished for.”

At this point, I glanced surreptitiously again towards where Ralph sat. He was fiddling with his stationery. I sighed and continued, “Well, I think that it would be in our best interest if we begin a new year with a fresh start. I’m going to start all of you on a fresh slate. I will put aside the wrong things that you have done before, forgive you and give you the opportunity to start right. Let’s seize this chance for a new beginning so that we can also end the year right.”

The class buzzed with some excitement though I knew that what I had said was mainly meant for Ralph. My introduction certainly caught his attention as he had looked up at me as if quietly asking, “Are you really forgiving me for what I’d done? Are you really letting me start with a clean slate?” Our eyes met and I knew then that what I had said to the class was what he needed to hear.

In the course of the first few weeks, I put words into action. Ralph enjoyed Science and had a good grasp of technology. I appointed him as the class AV/IT monitor and part of the Class Committee. It was the first time he was given such an opportunity. Leveraging on his love for Science, I got the class to do a project to create some form of catapult to show the effects of an elastic spring force. Ralph did not disappoint with his prototype.

Whenever he did something wrong, I never brought up his past as a reference and merely asked him to reflect on his actions and how he would feel if someone had done the same to him. I spoke to him about the importance of having dignity – a sense of self-worth – and that he had potential buried within him and that it was up to him to tap on it. I affirmed him for his contributions and chastised him for his transgressions but they were always followed by the reasons for my response. I believe he was appreciative of that.

On Teacher’s Day that year, he wrote, “Thank you for understanding me. And thank you for giving me a fresh start.”

The power of forgiveness. The power of a fresh start.

I can only begin to imagine what the paralyzed man, whose friends had to stretcher him down the roof of a house to get to Jesus, must have felt when Jesus first recognised his greater need for forgiveness before his physical disabilities were healed (Luke 5: 18-25). The friends were probably hoping to see a physical healing miracle (which they did) but did they even realise, as Jesus did, what their paralyzed friend truly needed?

And because of both the physical and spiritual healing that Jesus had given, the man had immediately “stood up, took what he had been lying on and went home praising God”. And what about the woman who was ready to be stoned by the community for her act of adultery (John 8:1-11)? How would she have felt at her salvation not only by Jesus’ mere challenge to the community – “Let the one who has not sinned cast the first stone” – but also his parting words – “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”?

My colleagues asked how I was able to manage Ralph that year. My answer – I gave him a fresh start.

Forgiveness. A new beginning. A clean slate. As we enter the second month of 2024, and also prepare for the upcoming Lunar New Year, perhaps we too can challenge ourselves to forgive – not only those who have done us wrong, but also forgive ourselves and let go of the baggage of the past which weighs us down. Perhaps we can humble ourselves and seek forgiveness from those whom we have hurt or wronged.

All of us make mistakes. This “imperfection” is exactly why we need Jesus in our own lives. We are challenged to look at those around us not with human judgement but with Jesus’ eyes of understanding and love. It is through such a lens that we can recognise the true value of the people God has placed in our lives. I wish all of you blessed new beginnings in the coming Lunar New Year.

 

 

31 January 2024

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Categories: Homilies / Messages, Reflections

Cardinal’s homily during the Commencement of School Year Mass struck me when he spoke about leaders teaching with their being. He referenced Moses and how he journeyed, suffered, and tolerated the people of Israel throughout their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. Moses even offered himself to take punishment from God for the wrongful actions of the people. Cardinal also spoke about the ordination of a priest, of the importance of believing his mission and being an example in living out his mission. He also mentioned that when Jesus preached, he preached about the kingdom of his father, not of himself because God sent him to bring the good news to His people. People in a position of authority do not represent themselves, but rather they always represent the organisation or the authority which appointed them.
This resonates with me because all that Cardinal said applies to me. I am a leader, in my main CCA Swimming, in the school’s Catholic CCA called Genesis and in my class. I have been invested with authority and I should lead more with my being even when others do not do the same. Being an example to other leaders and to my teammates is what is most important, so that I can show them how we can achieve our vision and mission by what we do. For example, when I tell people to show up at 7.30am in the morning to sing for mass, I will be there with them to sing with them even though I do not need to be there. I trust my Music Ministry to be there at that time to practise and I know that they can achieve what they need to do. However, if I am there with them, I show my people that I care about them and am always there to support and encourage them.
Representing an organisation is important as well. Every day when I wear the college uniform and, when I am ushering people into the chapel for mass, I represent my college. The actions that I take not only reflect who I am, but also where I come from. This resonates with me as through the things I do, it gives me a sense of pride to have the privilege to represent my organisation. It also gives me the motivation to constantly improve myself and the team.
In my daily life as a student, I sometimes feel overwhelmed. In addition to the busyness of JC life, I still need to uphold my standards as a student leader and lead the team no matter how tired I am. As such, it is important that in the team, no matter what position one is in, we all care for and uplift each other so that we can all do well together. The challenge of leadership is also having to constantly lead by example. When the team is not putting in their best, it is even more important that the leader maintains his consistency and dedication. Through this, he can then be a true encouragement to his teammates to do better.
Being appointed as a leader means faith has been put into you to bring the team together and to go the extra mile, and that is what I strive to do with the people that I lead. Through the grace of God and the strength He gives me, I am able to go the extra mile to show by example my dedication and care for the team and our mission. Leading by authority does not mean I display power but it means that I do all I can.
In a Catholic school, I am able to connect more with God and be prayerful. I am able to go to the chapel and seek God’s guidance and strength as a student and a leader. When the going gets tough, I will know that God will always be there for me, to help make me responsible and give me wisdom to make the right decisions. He will nudge me to keep going and never to give up, and to remind me of the love I have for my team and college just as He loves me.

The team from CJC with Cardinal William Goh after the Commencement of School Year Mass on 28 Jan 2024.

13 January 2024

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Categories: Reflections

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. What do people really get for all their hard work? As the Church goes into Ordinary Time, it is fitting to revisit Sylvia Chua’s reflection on Ecclesiastes 3: 1-13.

A time to be born and a time to die.

A time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to kill and a time to heal.

A time to tear down and a time to build up.

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.

A time to embrace and a time to turn away.

A time to search and a time to quit searching.

A time to keep and a time to throw away.

A time to tear and a time to mend.

A time to be quiet and a time to speak.

A time to love and a time to hate.

A time for war and a time for peace.

 

What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. So I conclude there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labour, for these are gifts from God.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-13

Perhaps no one profession relates to these verses in Ecclesiastes 3 as well as the teaching profession. These verses ring loud and true in each year that we work with students under our care. We gently ‘tear down’ the ego, and build up the character. We embrace and love the hurting child and we sometimes turn them away so they can learn to be independent. We know there are times to be quiet and times when we need to speak up.

 

We are merely instruments in God’s orchestra. Of course there are times when we despair at the seemingly unteachable child and bemoan the ‘burden’ we bear. Yet we are reminded that God makes all things beautiful in its own time. Our influence and impact on students is seldom seen while they are in school. Many blossom years after they leave us and often come back to remind us of the moments when we said or did something for them.

So at the beginning of this school year, let us commit to enjoying ourselves as we carry out our responsibilities and carry our crosses! We trust that God will send us the help we need to reach out to the children He has placed in our hands.

Ms Sylvia Chua
Adjunct Teacher
CHIJ St. Theresa’s Convent

 

1 January 2024

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Categories: Reflections

At the beginning of every school year, there would be that sense of freshness and newness. New beginnings, new classes, and new students. Accompanying this freshness would be an air of uncertainty of what the new year would bring. Perhaps some of us have taken on new portfolios and responsibilities, some of us may be having to adjust to a new environment or new colleagues and management. There is that uncertainty and that unknown that awaits us, and sometimes it scares us because we want to be in the know. As teachers, one of the many things we must have in our classroom is control, and we project that need for it to our daily life. The newness and worries described above are only work-related. Even in our personal lives, we have our own worries. How shall we go about living out our identity as Christians and educators in a VUCA (volatile, uncertain, complex, ambiguous) world? Scripture gives us the beautiful example of Our Lady. How she responds to uncertainty is what we are invited to emulate.

 

Celebrating Emmanuel God with Us by Seminarian Bro Kenneth Tham

25 December 2023

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Categories: Advent, Reflections

So for the new school year, educator Nick Chui encourages teachers to laugh with their students. Crack jokes. Don’t worry if they don’t always laugh back. Or if they roll their eyes and go “lame”. They will eventually. And they will thank you for it. And you will thank yourself.
Because your “Hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and righteousness.”
Because failure is not the last word because of Christmas.

They say that one of the tools to “surviving” as an educator is to have a sense of humor. Lately, my students have been sharing that they have found me funny, by laughing at my jokes in class and by saying so during Teachers’ Day. (I take that as a sign from God that I will likely have a relatively long lifespan in the education industry!)

Cue music “I will survive…”

But how do we define humour and the funny? Fr Robert Barron suggests that “The essence of comedy is the coming together of opposites, the juxtaposition of incongruous things”. Imagine for a moment a typical scene from Mr Bean. He bows deeply in a show of reverence to the Queen as part of the royal entourage. When he gets up he accidentally knocks the Queen with his head. As the Queen falls, he panics and flails about, causing other members of the entourage to fall. In the chaos, the audience laughs, and Mr Bean entertains yet again.

If this is humour, then the incarnation, i.e the birth of the second member of the Blessed Trinity is humour par excellence. God, the creator of the Universe, chooses to become a human baby born of a virgin. And the chosen couple, Mary and Joseph, had to obey an earthly emperor and run back to Bethlehem for a census. When Mary gives birth, she does it in a stable. Angels visit to say hello but the same angels don’t seem strong enough to fend off Herod and his minions, leaving them to flee as refugees into Egypt while other babies under the age of two in Bethlehem were murdered.

When I reread these passages during Advent, I often catch myself imagining Joseph saying to himself, “Me, the foster father of the Son of God, and running away like a refugee? What a joke man!”

But the good news of Christmas and by extension the entire Christian story is that the joke will be eventually be on the Herods of the world. Herod dies, Joseph comes back and settles down in Nazareth. Jesus dies on the cross, his enemies thought it was game over, he rises again on the third day.

Our recalcitrant student one day comes up to us and says “thank you for not giving up on me”, stunning you with a mixture of shock and surprise.

So for the new school year, laugh with your students. Crack jokes. Don’t worry if they don’t always laugh back. Or if they roll their eyes and go “lame”. They will eventually. And they will thank you for it. And you will thank yourself.

Because your “Hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and righteousness.”

Because failure is not the last word because of Christmas.

And because to see it, we need a sense of (Divine) humour.

19 December 2023

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Categories: Advent, Reflections

Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us.” [Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi (On Christian Hope), 49]

“Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route… Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us.” [Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi (On Christian Hope), 49]

How do we navigate by the Star of Hope? Perhaps we can find a parallel to our own life’s journeys in Mary and Joseph’s from Nazareth to Bethlehem.

We all start at our own Nazareths, with our small-town mentalities, our reputations (if any) preceding us, and voices that ring in the ears of our hearts: “Can anything good come out of there?” (John 1:46) But, like Mary and Joseph who were summoned to the Roman census, we are similarly compelled by the world – students, parents, peers, civil authorities – to stand up and be counted.

Mary and Joseph probably bypassed the shorter way through Samaria, preferring the safer and friendlier but longer and harder way along the Jordan River valley and then up from Jericho, 250m below sea level, to Jerusalem, at an elevation of 750m, and thence on to Bethlehem. It was amazing that Mary – no doubt with backache, bladder discomfort and fitful sleep, swollen feet and general fatigue, like any ordinary woman in the last month of pregnancy – made it in one piece over that rugged terrain five days and 130km later.

We too, find the journey of life difficult, negotiating twists and turns, ups and downs, even as we carry the burden of young peoples’ lives physically and emotionally. Even if we know how to travel smart, eschewing the wide and broad way that leads to destruction, and choosing the long, steep and narrow path through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, we seem to end up being rejected and dejected. Even Mary must have thought that God’s timing could have been better. Instead of giving birth in a clean, warm home with a midwife and women friends in attendance, she shared her delivery room with animals, their droppings and their drool. And poor Joseph – imagine him present at Jesus’ birth, holding Mary’s hand as she laboured, catching the little Christ-child in his arms as he emerged, then cutting the umbilical cord, wrapping him in swaddling clothes and afterwards, cleaning up the mess and sterilising the manger – how much water he must have carried and boiled! Our loved ones suffer with us too.

Yet, as a fellow pilgrim wrote: “Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts.” (Romans 5:3-5). True love became incarnate that holy night.

Standing Before The Gate Of Heaven And Hope

“The present, even if it is arduous, can be lived and accepted if it leads towards a goal, if we can be sure of this goal, and if this goal is great enough to justify the effort of the journey.” [Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi 1]

In another age, another pilgrim had written: “I said, I have laboured in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity; yet surely my cause is with the Lord, and my reward with my God. And now the Lord says, who formed me in the womb to be his servant, ‘It is too light a thing that you should be my servant… I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:4-6)

The Magi followed a star, but Mary was the Star of Hope herself. On Christmas night, “hope came into the world…. He comes into the world and gives us the strength to walk with him: God walks with us in Jesus, and walking with Him toward the fullness of life gives us the strength to dwell in the present in a new way, albeit arduous. Thus for a Christian, to hope means the certainty of being on a journey with Christ toward the Father who awaits us. Hope is never still; hope is always journeying, and it makes us journey. This hope, which the Child of Bethlehem gives us, offers a destination, a sure, ongoing goal, the salvation of mankind, blessedness to those who trust in a merciful God.” (Pope Francis, General Audience, 21 Dec 2016)

Mary’s journey did not stop at Bethlehem. It continued to Egypt, back to Nazareth, to Jerusalem, Calvary, Ephesus and beyond into eternity, with Christ close to her as always. Mary knows full well the perils of our earthly journey and this is why the Church sings Alma Redemptoris Mater in the season of Advent as we await our Lord’s Incarnation. The first few lines, translated from Latin, reads:

“O loving Mother of our Redeemer, Gate of Heaven, Star of the Sea, Hasten to aid thy fallen people who strive to rise once more…”

There is a door in one corner of CHIJMES in Singapore where, in the not-too-distant past, unwanted infants were left abandoned at the doorstep of the former Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus in Victoria Street. It is plain, small and inconspicuous, but all children who crossed its threshold were reborn into a new life. It was called the Gate of Hope.

Just as plain, small and inconspicuous as that little door, Mary was chosen to be the Gate and Mother of Hope. Through her “yes” that opened the door of our world to Christ, we sinners who have fallen short of His glory are reborn through Him into a new life and another chance at being the stars of Bethlehem – to those in our homes, schools, and parishes – that God created us to be.

As we begin our journey towards Christmas with the lighting of the Candle of Hope on our Advent wreaths, let us pray that we will always shine in the world like bright stars because we are joyfully offering it the Word of Life (Philippians 2:16). And Hope does not disappoint because the Word has promised to be with us till the end of time.

Our Journey Towards The Infant Jesus_Michelle Tan

12 December 2023

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Categories: Advent, Reflections

This week, we light the second Advent candle – the candle symbolising peace. In Donna Koh’s article titled ‘Peace be Upon You’, she reflects on the meaning of “home” in a world where people move far, far away for a multitude of reasons. She shares how love, joy, and hope seeped through the cracks of a dark and difficult year to bring her closer to God.

The month of December is the season of Advent. We think of the birth of Jesus, and look forward to the festive celebrations with our loved ones. We may find ourselves more pensive than usual, looking back on the year that has passed and taking stock of the highs and the lows. This year, I am in a more sombre mood. Instead of the birth of Christ, I am distracted and wonder instead about what Mother Mary’s experience must have been like all those years ago. Scholars tell us that Joseph and Mary’s journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem must have been more arduous than accounts let on. Did she ever feel out of place? Would she have felt indignant or embarrassed throughout her travels and delivery? Did she long to return home amidst her discomfort, short- term as she knew the travel for the census would be? Exponentially more sobering for me this season is the fact that horrific violence continues to rage on at the time of writing, just under 100 kilometres away from the very location Mary and Joseph would have trudged through and where Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Unrest and tension are rife elsewhere in the world too. How did we allow sacred lands to turn into a place of strife, contempt and bloodshed? How do we sit and watch as people lose their homes to violence? Time may have changed physical and political landscapes, but surely the human capacity to feel is timeless and enduring. Life in Singapore is cushy, so perhaps it is difficult to empathise with people whose experiences are so far removed from ours. But imagine what happens when you wake up to the unfamiliar. Imagine losing your home and everything you know, with no end in sight. What does this do to your identity? It does not feel right to celebrate this year. Perhaps I am extra sensitive this year because I too, am not home among the familiar. I too, am in limbo.

The hum of the fridge is my daily companion in the quietest parts of the day when everyone I know and miss in Singapore is asleep, 13 hours ahead of my location. I look up sometimes to realise that it has begun snowing again. To tropical humidity-weary Singaporeans and in the holiday glow, winter is enticing and snow is novel. No one seems to mention how traffic turns snow into a muddy slush that you have to wade ankle-deep in, or how snow turns everything into the most morose canvas that will make you ache for sun-drenched Singapore. Forget shorts and flip-flops: you will spend 10 minutes putting on multiple layers to transform into the Michelin Man just to get to the supermarket down the road. Sunlight will become a rarity. And no one will mention how the decision to take a break from work and stay overseas for a while can cripple you with the keenest grief you have ever experienced. But this was my reality for the first five months of 2023.

In our world of extremes, work and rest lie worlds apart and never the twain shall meet unless we have earned both the money and the right to go on holiday. But off I went with four pieces of luggage in tow to a city I had never visited, taking a break from work in the form of unpaid leave. At the Toronto-Pearson International Airport, the customs and immigration officer demanded to know why I would be staying so long in the city, disapproval and suspicion lacing every question. “If you knew my passport and my country, you wouldn’t ask me those questions,” I seethed in my heart, despite knowing that the officer was only doing his job. It was the first of many self-induced affronts I would come to experience, most probably my form of self-defence against the apparent illogic of leaving Singapore. Sometimes, friendly Canadians would strike up a conversation, their expressions faltering before they asked me to repeat myself. How unfair— I would think to myself— that popular culture has made your accent so instantly recognisable and decipherable to me, and, where I’m from, your intonation and sentence stress would be deemed inaccurate. Do you know where I’m from, I sometimes wanted to scream. You don’t even know me, I always wanted to cry. For five months, I felt like a ghost— invisible and identity-less, unless someone deigned to chat with me at the gym or at a cafe. I missed the buzz of work and professional conversations that gave me heady rushes of satisfaction; the predictable Singapore weather; my mother’s love language of cutting fruits after dinner; having afternoon toast and coffee with my parents at our neighbourhood mall. I missed the reliability of our public transport; face-to-face heartfelt conversations with friends and colleagues that never had a moment’s awkward silence; the familiarity of knowing where to go for anything and everything without ever needing a map. I had thought myself an intrepid traveller— I had hiked in different countries alone; flown 36 hours to South America and passed through three different airports, alone; navigated cities on my mobile phone. Yet it all felt very different this time round. I was tourist no more. I was a short-term resident who had arrived when drug-related assaults were on the rise. Here, cannabis stores are common and addicts shuffle half-naked in a drugged-out stupor on the streets and on public transport, oblivious to the cold. I couldn’t return home after a mere three weeks away and amble back from the airport the way I used to, souvenirs and exhilarating travel anecdotes in hand. Taking unpaid leave meant that there was nothing I could return to, and nothing to occupy my time in Toronto. In one fell swoop I had arranged the most unique arrangement for myself, ever: no job, no friends and family within a 7,000km radius, no familiar surroundings or environment. It was a sobering jolt to my system. It seemed like only I could answer those questions I longed others to answer: do I know where I’m from? Do I know who I am? Am I still me when away from my country and all who know me, and without my job and its soul-sapping but so-satisfying responsibilities?

So who are we when we don’t have our country, loved ones, or routines to remind us who we are and what we are capable of doing? Far away from home, I found myself stricken by the thought of cooking, but persevered, telling myself that if my mother can cook anything and everything, then this same culinary prowess must be in my DNA, ready to unleash itself with more practice. So, I made fried rice, pizza, dumplings, mee hoon kway and so many other dishes from scratch, and like any Asian woman who calls the shots in the kitchen, complained about how my cooking tasted in order to hear gushing compliments from those eating my food. I brought kaya croissants (store-bought from the only Singapore-style cafe here; I am not at that fusion-baker level yet) to my CrossFit gym so that the Lebanese, Irish and Canadian owners could taste something from my home country; unable to write work emails or plan programmes, I resorted to meal-planning and grocery-budgeting for “intellectual stimulation” (they were underwhelming); I attended French classes, panicking from the student’s seat every time the teacher gave us a Kahoot! quiz (but not before teaching my classmates how to use Kahoot!, like the trained teacher I am); I made friends with people from parts of the world (Mexico, Argentina, Australia, Hong Kong, Canada of course, and etc) whom I would never have gotten the chance to get close to while in Singapore, some of whom have become my Toronto family; and any time I could, I talked about my home and my work, pretending not to convulse with pride when people raved about our airport, our national carrier, our education system, and more. And little by little, as I strove to feel connected to what felt like a previous life, I found more lightness in my heart. I thought I was moving away and moving on, but it turns out that knowing where you come from and appreciating how it has shaped you is every bit as important.

What about residents or refugees who have been wrested from the familiar and thrust into an alien landscape? Homesick as I was, I have never seen and delighted in true diversity and inclusivity until I lived in Toronto. Residents really have come from every corner of the world, I hear tongues completely unfamiliar to me, and wealth does not segregate as distinctly. At times, I walk past wizened Asian men and a part of me longs to ask “Uncle, why are you so far away from home?”. But time and again, I encounter someone who looks Asian by ethnicity and am always confounded to hear a torrent of North American-accented English spilling out of their mouth. They have clearly grown up here, might even have been born here, and I quickly learn how presumptuous I am to have assumed that Toronto isn’t home for them. Most of the time, people move for better opportunities, with hope and a dogged determination that life will turn out better. But what happens when you are forced to flee your country? What happens when you were displaced? Over here, I marvel at how people’s backgrounds and life choices are accepted without question nor judgement. Near my house is an Orthodox Church, where both the Canada and Ukraine flag proudly adorn the entrance. In the Old Town, there is a banner hung outside the Anglican Cathedral which welcomes same-sex marriages to be conducted and celebrated there. Toronto is a city that people come to for a myriad of good reasons, and I have learnt that people don’t always leave for greener pastures. Sometimes they leave out of necessity, even driven by fear. I am not a refugee by far, but this year my heart lies with the many people in the world who have lost their homes, do not feel at home, and yearn for home. I remember Mosa, the tall, dashing grandfather who had driven me around when I was a tourist in Jordan and who had plied me with maamoul after the one time I had some and raved about it. He had fled to Jordan from Palestine as a young man, and I remember the silence when he pointed out his homeland from the car, within sight across the wadi. I have learned that we can have many homes, that home can be a feeling as much as it is a place, and that making a home lies in our hands.

So, this isn’t a feel-good piece of writing that brings immediate good tidings. I write from uncertainty and loss instead, away from the easy and the good, having put myself in a space where I have struggled to find myself and stand up for what I want. But I also write with thanksgiving, hope, and faith. This year has been exceptionally challenging for me, and I have spent many days in tears and darkness — both literally (the sun sets at 4 p.m in winter) and figuratively. Yet I cannot be more grateful to recall the kindness and care shown to me by others— messages from friends and ex-colleagues in the middle of my loneliest, quietest days that remind me who I am and where I am from; invitations from friends in Toronto that assure me that I am capable of making new and lasting friendships; stories shared with me by others who have had similar experiences to mine, and commiserating with these like-minded friends. God sent me so many angels to support me through the year, for whom I will be forever thankful. Other fierce reminders of His presence and mercy took several forms: basking in the warmth of the elusive sun on hikes; visiting churches that welcomed me with open arms; the endless patience that Canadians demonstrate, be it while waiting in line or traffic; getting stopped for directions by strangers which boosted my morale to no end as I imagined being able to pass off as a Toronto local. I had encountered the legendary Canadian kindness, and learnt that people have the power to make you feel at home too. When you are in a dark place, even the smallest act of kindness feels like the blazing sun.

Lastly, I write this thinking of victims, refugees, the lost and the lonely, and people wading their way through pain, worry or grief today. And if you, reader, are not at Peace as well, I believe that Hope, Joy and Love will be your balm. In John 14:27, we are assured by God that “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” It is Advent after all, and even if we feel the absence of one symbol, trust that the combination and confluence of the other three will bring us out of the darkness. God has placed us exactly where we need to be. All we have to do is trust Him. Besides, after every winter, ice thaws, the cold relents, and in their place, light always beckons. Jesus Christ our Saviour is born.

12 December 2023

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Categories: Advent, Reflections

Last week we lit the first Advent candle – the candle symbolising hope. Michelle Tan reflects on hope. She makes a case that the light of hope cannot shine in the darkness unless fuelled by faith. Revisit the Parable of the Wise and Foolish bridesmaids (Matthew 25: 1 – 13) to learn how we can keep our lamps lit as we journey through Advent.

The Catholic Church recently celebrated the beginning of a new liturgical year on Nov 27, 2022, the First Sunday of Advent. For those of us who have Advent wreaths, we light the first of the four Advent candles on them, the candle of Hope. (The other three candles symbolising peace, joy and love, are lit during the Second, Third and Fourth Sundays of Advent on 4, 11 and 18 December respectively). South African theologian and Nobel Peace Prize-winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu said, “Hope is being able to see that there is light in spite of all the darkness.”

As the calendar year draws to its end, the New Year threatens to be shrouded in the darkness of the impending doom of the world as we know it. Climate catastrophes, political upheavals and wars, scandals in and exoduses from the Church, the desanctification of marriage, the disintegration of morals, and the spread of the culture of death have already plunged many into existential crises. What is the point of educating future generations if there is no future for them? Yet, the lighting of the first Advent candle, whether in church or at home, reminds us that not long from now the Light of Christ will come to dispel the darkness both in the world and in our hearts. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) The lighting of the candle of Hope is thus a fitting beginning to our Advent journey towards Christmas and a new year ahead.

Hope

Father Ronald Rolheiser, a Catholic priest and columnist whose reflections are carried in many Catholic publications worldwide including our Archdiocese’s Catholic News, relates the story of how French Jesuit priest and theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955) was challenged by his critics: “‘Suppose we blow up the world with a nuclear bomb, what then happens to your vision of a world coming together in peace?” Teilhard’s response lays bare the anatomy of hope: ‘If we blow up the world by nuclear bombs, that will set things back some millions of years, but eventually what Christ promised will come about, not because I wish it, but because God has promised it and, in the Resurrection, God has shown that God is powerful enough to deliver on that promise.’”

And what did Christ promise?

“I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and He will dwell with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:2-4)

 

Fr Rolheiser goes on to say, “Hope is precisely that, a vision of life that guides itself by God’s promise. It is not simple optimism, nor is it wishful thinking, a fantasy-daydream that someday our ship will come in. Hope is not based on whether the daily news is good or bad on a given day. If we hope or despair based on whether things seem to be improving or disintegrating in terms of world events, our spirits will go up and down like the stock market. Instead, hope looks at the facts, looks at God’s promise, and then, without denying the facts or turning away from the daily news, lives out a vision of life based upon God’s promise, trusting that a benevolent, all-powerful God is still in charge of this world.”

 

Faith, love, peace

But the light of hope cannot shine in our darkness unless fuelled by faith. The Blessed Virgin Mary is the example par excellence of such faith and hope. Her faith and trust in God’s promises sustained her through the Incarnation, Jesus’ public ministry, His Passion and Cross and the Resurrection. As Elizabeth prophetically announced, “Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill His promises to her!” (Luke 1:45)

And it was Our Lady’s love for her God and His Son that enabled her to love His people as Mother and Mediatrix of His graces. Mary was the embodiment of the theological virtues of faith, hope and love i.e. the virtues that help us live in close relationship with God. No wonder she is called the Star of the New Evangelisation, leading the People of God ever closer to the Lord, like the star of Bethlehem led the Magi to the infant Jesus.

That first Christmas night, the angels sang, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” (Luke 2:14) Whoever encounters the Lord finds inner peace, because the Light of the World shines within. And this peace is not just the absence of anxiety or distress but it is a peace the world cannot define and cannot give, because it is the peace of shalom, of being immersed in the presence of God, of tasting heaven on earth, one of complete and perfect joy.

It is to this shalom peace, perfect joy and unconditional love for God and His people that the second, third and fourth candles on the Advent wreath point us to the coming of Christ at Christmas.

But we are called to be candlelight and stars of Bethlehem leading others to Christ, not only during Advent, but all year round, and not just in anticipation of His First Coming at Christmas but also of His Second Coming at the end times. “You are the light of the world. People do not light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:11-16) How can we share the light of our hope, peace, joy and love with others? The Bible tells us we can’t!

Keeping our lamps lit

The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Bridesmaids (Matthew 25:1-13) explains why. In one of his Daily Scriptural Reflections on this Gospel passage, Cardinal William Goh wrote:

“We have been chosen as the bridesmaids to welcome Christ the Bridegroom to meet His bride the Church. Like the bridesmaids, our task is to prepare the People of God to welcome Christ. Christ’s mission is to reconcile man with God: through our union and intimacy with Him, we share in the heavenly wedding banquet. But we cannot enter heaven alone; we enter together with the rest of humanity. That is why, when the Bridegroom comes, the bridesmaids enter with the Bride to the wedding banquet.

“How then should we prepare ourselves to accompany the Bridegroom when He comes? The Gospel makes it clear – we need to light up our lamps and bring sufficient oil to wait for His coming. The light of the lamp represents a life of faith, hope and charity. These are the theological gifts of the Holy Spirit. Only faith in Christ can give us hope in eternal life, and it is this hope that inspires us to live a life of charity. What, then, would be the oil that is necessary to give strength to our faith, hope and charity?

“The oil for the lamp of faith, hope and charity is kept burning only when we cooperate with His grace. We have all been given the grace of faith in Christ and hope in the future and the capacity to love with His love in our hearts. But like anyone who has been given the graces, unless we make use of them properly, wisely, and conscientiously, these would have been given to us in vain. So, we must ensure that we have sufficient oil to inflame the gifts of faith, hope and charity in our hearts. We need to keep our faith, hope and charity alive by enkindling them.

“The important lesson to learn from the Parable is that when it comes to preparing ourselves to meet the Lord, there are certain things in life that cannot be shared. The oil of spiritual life, spiritual maturity and spiritual goodness cannot be shared – we must own them ourselves. There is no treasury that we can draw upon to help us to encounter the Lord if we have not made any efforts to do so. This explains why when the five foolish bridesmaids asked the wise bridesmaids to give them some oil, they told them, ‘There may not be enough for us and for you; you had better go to those who sell it and buy some for yourselves.’”

Where can we encounter the Lord and thereby ‘buy’ oil for our lamps if not by deeply desiring a personal relationship with Christ and seeking to meet Him in times of quiet prayer, in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, in the Breaking of the Word of God, the reception of the Holy Eucharist, or at retreats or in Creation? And we do not have to search for God alone – after all, the Wise Men followed the star of Bethlehem and found the infant Jesus together.

So, as we begin the season of Advent (which shares the same Latin root as ‘adventure’), let our hearts be filled with joy as we prepare one another to become wise disciples of the Lord and fellow adventurers in the new liturgical, calendar and school year ahead:

“Since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:1-5)

Wishing everyone a blessed Advent, a happy and holy Christmas and a New Year of hope, peace, joy and love!