Song of Hope...

"To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted." - Titus 1:15

 I found this true, time and again; especially when exposed to secular media, films and music. Numerous were the times I heard the Lord sing and coo to me through the din. Numerous too, were the times my mind was dulled from perceiving the evil therein. 

I like to believe that I am protected and my Father sings songs of gladness over me. 

Some of the most beautiful lessons I learnt were from sources far, far from religious or spiritual.

The most distant memory that comes to me (considering that my memory is like a sieve) is of my watching the undeniably morbid movie, The English Patient. Lust, adultery, fornication and lies abound in that love-in-the-time-of-WWII film. But this is what I remember most- the scene where the lady-much-desired and her (cuckold) husband were flying their two-seater propeller jet to their dug-out site in the North African wasteland, where the lady's lover was waiting to be picked up. The affair was broken off by then and the husband knew that he was cheated upon, though he did not reveal it to his wife or the friend/lover. As the plane descended, the husband's feral rage took over and he tried to drive the jet into the lover, hoping to kill all of them together. Instead, the husband dies instantly, the wife gets mortally wounded and perishes in the desert and the lover dies much later, a victim of euthanasia, broken-hearted, burnt beyond recognition and a traitor. The film treated the entire story very romantically... but all I heard, was a still soft voice saying- The wages of sin is death.

God did not need to meet out their punishment. Their own flawed decision set into motion the wheels of fate which they could not stop and led to their untimely destruction, and that of others as well. I felt sorry for them... I really did; but it brought home to me the truth that death was not just metaphorical; it was real and concrete. 

Then there was Avatar. Who can forget the memorable Na'vi greeting- 'I see you.', which is to see into another, to truly look into their souls. How poignantly it reminded me of Psalm 139 ...

Then there is the other side of the spectrum. When evil warps the imagination, nothing then can remains innocent. Before predators became, there was the thought, the fantasy that foreshadowed it. There are those who after encountering the Light, now practice extreme abstinence, not out penance but out the desire for protection. It doesn't  take much to awake the old demons...

The Lord often does deliver them but sometimes he desires to strengthen their will by asking of strong measures.

St. Augustine knew of it. St Paul remarked of it when he spoke of the thorn in his flesh . 

But take heart, in the end, Grace and one's love of Jesus will see one through...

A Mustard seed of Faith

 God does not make mistakes!

That is the Truth and Truth it is. The catch is whether we believe it or not. Not believe it being the Truth but believe Truth (who is God) about Himself. 

So, we all believe in God and as Jesus so poignantly said- Even the demons believe in God. 

They just don't trust Him.

And so, when one does introspect, "Do I believe that God does not make mistakes?", it is the simplified version of, "Do I trust God never to mess up even after all the mess I created for myself?"

This 'Parent' question spawns numerous off-springs like, why does God allow children to suffer from cancer? Why are there so many wars? Or closer home- Why me, Lord?

...a dim echo of, 'Could God have made a mistake?' 

Your really don't have to search your memory to recall instances of people asking you this question in retrospection  They pose it as a rhetoric and they really don't expect an answer. There isn't one, they think; seeing the situation they are locked in. 

And what about the many times we have whispered it to ourselves in the secret recesses of our soul? 

My times-of-distress teaser was a simple- Lord, where are you?

I never expected an answer... because I believed He did NOT have an answer.

Then something happened that made me wonder...

The week that was, was a roller-coaster. A high and a low and a low. It was a difficult, difficult time, especially for a person like me who does not like change or a disturbance in my daily rhythm. I don't remember if I threw one of my posers at God but I definitely was wondering what on earth was happening. Somewhere in the middle of the week, I received a card from a close friend in Canada. It was posted weeks ago to a common friend and was waiting to be received. I just didn't have the time to collect it. It finally found its way to my hands through a fellow choir member and I opened it...

It was small-ish, simple card, with a caricature on the cover. On the inside was my pals' neat, tidy handwriting on the two facing sides. Then there, right at the bottom of card was this printed verse from Daniel...

"God loves you very much."

I nearly wept...

In all the Bible, that was my favourite verse. I never told it to anyone. I loved that verse before I even knew how to read the Bible. It called to me as no other verse ever did. My favourite Bible meditation was to imagine myself in Daniel's shoes and hear the salutation, 'Daniel! God loves you' over and over and over again.

Fear not! God loves you...

He knew my soul even before that week arrived. He timed it to reach my hands at the opportune time. He sent his Spirit to remind me... He does not make mistakes.

Though it is not quite the correct response to my, 'Lord, where are you?' cry; it is the best One. 

What I am going through, is well and foreseen. Even in the midst of the chaos I created for myself and for others, He does not make mistakes. There are no wrong judgement calls and there is disaster-recovery for Him. 

The Light has shone in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

The Return of the Eldest Son

 “There was once a man who had two sons." 

I had read the story of the prodigal son a very many time and heard beautiful homilies from the pulpit a thousand times over... but the story never sang to me.

One was the elder and one was the younger.

There was the obedient and there was the rebel.

Even after my heart's conversion; I knew I had walked the prodigal son's broken path and came home after much barrenness... but even then the story never spoke to me.

My selfishness and arrogance, I was aware. I still remember the times I told the Father, the ancient curse behind my demand for independence- I wish you were dead.

But the Love of God rescued me and I felt the soft mantle of the Father's robe as I pressed my heart into His. Then I heard his agonizing cry...

"My heart won't let me do it, my Love for you is too strong" 

I continued my journey with God till I finally saw the Eldest Son was I. 

"but this son of yours..."

I am the eldest in my family and I know better than others the heavy responsibility to care for the younger while young myself. I knew better than others the pain of being favoured under and disciplined harsher. In my minds eye,  I saw it run through out the Bible, I saw younger being greatly loved. Jacob over Esau, Joseph apart from his 11 brothers, David ahead his brothers,  Mary before Martha and John, beloved of the Lord. 

The Eldest Son, did all things right and true to his father, so much so he despised his brother for having made the foolish choice. Deep in his heart, it was not the property but laud he gave himself for adhering to his father's rule. Such self-discipline is truly admirable but it made him proud. It gave him a seat of judgement, a throne. His brother's disobedience, heightened his obedience. He never waited with his father for his brother's return.

And many were the times, I judged others. Not consciously but in my attitude. Protestants with dodgy theology, homosexuals, casanovas and weak-willed politicians... my brothers who I despised. My own who I could not acknowledge as mine. Who I begrudged the Father's patience and his mercy.

But the Father loved them both

This is where the parable began to make sense to me. The Father asks for one thing and one thing alone- Love. 

The father in the parable was already old and infirm,nearly blind, he had already died a thousand deaths and waited for his lost son to return. To a man who has seen death face to face, the past and hoary remembrances do not matter. Only the beloved does. The light of his eyes was gone, but the light of his spirit had grown acute. In his very spirit, he sensed his son's return.  With this light, he saw his youngest from afar. 

I only saw the erring and the fallen. Coming into the Light helps you recognise the obvious which those who are steeped in sin do not. My calling was to love them into return. My calling was to love the wounded who did not how how to return. My calling was to rejoice with the Father when my lost brother returned. But for that I needed to love into dying to myself. Like the Father who loved man so much as to give up his greatest Love, his only Son to redeem us. 

It is the paradox of love, when you have lost everything, you have everything to give. When one is nothing, then one can love truly those who are nothing. 

When I understood this, I returned to the banquet to celebrate my brother's return.

Suffer little children

I read this article about a man named Ken, who was conceived in an act of rape. 

His mother was 15, unmarried and alone.

This is his story... 

Ken explained that he was adopted as an infant, and at age 30, located his birth mother and learned the circumstances of his conception.

“Her story was that she was hit over the head with a baseball bat and was raped at 15. So she went away to Catholic Charities, had me, made the brave decision to keep me — and, well, keep me alive. And then I was adopted and I have three beautiful children now, have been married for 15 years – and I would just like to speak up for those [voice breaks] who have no voice.” 

Ken defended both women who are the victims of rape, and their innocent children who are conceived in violence: “It really eats me up when I hear people talk about rape, because it is horrible. My mother won’t tell me who my father’s name is because he threatened to kill her if she ever said anything. So she has not told me his name, but if I was ever to meet him, the first thing I would probably do is punch him. I think rape is horrible, but what I want to say to women out there is: you can take something that was terribly done to you, and make something good out of it. And that’s, [voice breaks] that’s me.”

Ken talked about growing up in a loving adoptive home – his parents had just celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary — and how he shares a relationship with his birth mother, her husband, and their children (his half-siblings). He expressed gratitude for his birth mother’s going through so much to give him life. He admired how she rebuilt her life after her assault, pregnancy, and adoption placement, saying: “That was a hard time in her life. She sacrificed a lot….But she moved on in her life, and she was able to overcome the shame that was put on her.”

He urged people to see that children conceived in rape are just as human, just as “real”, as everyone else.

“It’s an emotional topic because I just get tired of people treating these unborn children like they’re, like they’re nothing. And they can be born, and they can grow up, and they can have a great life.”

Most of all, they are human beings...

More than 2000 years ago, there was another girl, maybe younger who found herself with a child and chose to have him. 

His name was Jesus and his mother was, Mary. 

"I have called you by name; you are mine!" Is 43:1

He was still a toddler when He and his parents had to flee from their town. The ruler of that land gave the order to massacre all male chidren, 2 years and under.

Strange! The blindness of not recognising the humanity of a child within the womb can well extend into their early years. The rage of a tyrant wiped out an entire generation in his state. 

I was born in the 80's. Many of my generation never lived to be born because they were considered less-than-human. They called it choice then, now it's some sort of 'right'.

How come no one ever recognises the unborn for what they truly are- a Gift, a Blessing, a Ray of Hope?

A Season of Waiting

There is a season of waiting...

The Good Book makes much of this season. It begins with the waiting for the Messiah just after the Fall and it end with the waiting for the return of The King.

Abraham waiting a hundred years for Isaac to be, is lot of time. But 40 years of wandering about in a desert to reach the Promised Land is enough to make one cry. 

And yes, the desert. Why does it always have to be in the desert?

The strange thing about this desert is that it's not necessarily geographical. Jonah's desert was a the belly of a whale. A Whale! Have any of you ever got a chance to sniff the breadth of a blue whale!
Jesus had his desert in a garden.
The Mother of God had her's for three days in the house of John, son of Zebedee, before she saw her Son after she laid him in the tomb. 
And some of us find this desert in our very souls. A dryness that companionship and prayer does nothing to elevate.

Even the Saviour was alone in his waiting

And then there is the waiting... 

I personally dislike having to wait- whether be it in queues or for websites to load or for promises to unfold. Most of all, I dislike ambiguous waiting-in-the-dark type of situations! The kind where you do not know what is expected at the end of the wait. The wait would become a little bit less painful if at least you know what is expected, is to be. But strangely, that is not the hope that is promised to us.

"But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." - Rom 8:25 

 When I cannot see, it is to walk with eyes of faith. Blessed are those whose eyes are turned towards the Lord of Hosts and believe that good things await the righteous.

Sometimes, with waiting in the desert comes doubt and hopelessness. The death of hope where hope once was, only makes the darkness darker. This cynicism made Sarah laugh inside the tent. A defeatism that made Nathaniel wonder if even God could bring good out of Nazareth. Then there is regret, which caused the Israelites to murmur against Moses.

But in the waiting is purification. A deadening of the senses and awakening of the Spirit. A fullness that the saints speak of, in the midst of poverty. God loves the desert. He knows that there can be no distractions and no other who can penetrate your soul as He could. There he will make you wait till your thirst for him is cleaned of every unworthy intention but to have him alone. In the desert you will learn the depth of your love for the Lord. You will understand hope, in no other way as from Hope himself. In the desert...

...he will come, like the bridegroom in the night, softly calling your name. You will not see him but you know that the Master is near. 

When the waiting is done and your cup is full, then will you understand, why the waiting, why the desert?

Give me hope, Lord

I am tired, tired, tired...

It's 8:30 in the night and I am still in my office hole. I must have put in more than 10 hours of work at no extra charge and I am famished...

That's not all. I was also caught up in the biggest downpour of the year, in a city that's nearing drought estimates in precipitation and when I finally reached home nearing 11 PM, I was too tired to sleep. I was up at an unearthly hour next morning thanks to my insomnia.

But strangely enough, I am also grateful that it gives me an opportunity to offer my suffering for a greater good. It makes it almost sweet...my suffering that is, though it does not make it any easier. 

It certainly hasn't dimmed my ardent desire to run away from this place. It is so hard to look up and acknowledge something beautiful is at work already. 

Grant me hope for tomorrow, Lord

So, I pray for hope and I pray for fortitude. I cannot have one without the other, for without hope, fortitude calls for ruthlessness, a hard stone-man; and without fortitude, hope has no substance.

 St. Teresa of Avila's Bookmark

Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing frighten you,

All things are passing

God never changes.

Patience obtains all things.

He who has God

finds he lacks nothing;

God alone suffices.

And the end of all things, GOD ALONE SUFFICES...

Presenting.....

Caution: the below image and content may result in severe disruption of your system's performance due to hydration of the circuitboard by human saliva!

 

JRR Tolkien's 'The Hobbit' in Latin

 

Yes, my dear people, one of the greatet literary wonders of the 20th century by one of the greatest Catholic writers of the 20th century in the language of the Church.

Need I say more?

I wonder if they have a chant to go with it...