Every small act of good we do carry an impact far greater than we can imagine. I believe in the presence of the Divine in our life. Our small good acts are used in another person’s life to counter their negative experiences. Sometimes small acts are catalysts of a major transformation. The Divine does not cause bad things to happen to us but He uses the good of this world to allow us to feel his presence.

When our time on earth comes to an end, our life is completed. When we sit in heaven and look back on life we will see the many good acts of others, often smallish, used by the Divine to intervene in our life to redress the bad and put us back on the path of our salvation. We will see how our own good acts have been used to affect others often to a magnitude beyond the expectations of our humble offering.

Our lives are intertwined. Whatever we do will impact not only the people around us but is far reaching even to people we are not acquainted with. Our lives are like a large orchestra, each playing a small note seemingly unimportant but together make the music great. We are also like small tiles, some plain some designed, all indivually different in what we can offer. When the world comes to an end there will be an enormous beautiful mosaic intricately made up of us small tiles depicting how we were interwoven into each other’s lives.

The small boy in today’s gospel wasn’t really thinking too much about the whole big picture. We too should not be self-conscious especially into thinking what we can only offer is too little, too small. Or worse, we must not live in fear of losing everything when we start to do good by giving.

A key diver who helped in the rescue at Tham Luang magnanimously said the divers are no heroes but are merely people with a different skill set and are humbled and happy to give something back to the community. They offered what they had in their basket, their own 5 barley loaves and 2 fishes. I keep mentioning Tham Luang because there is so much to learn. There is so much to see and meditate on if we look deeper at the completed picture of that whole story.

The cleaners and cooks, the drivers and the washer women, and many more came like ‘small boys’ never imagining the eventual big picture but only humbly offering selflessly what they have. The end result, can we say, is like the multiplication of the 5 loaves and 2 fishes that fed a love story to the entire watching world? Can we claim this love story to be scripted by the Divine who took each person’s humble offering, blessed and shared it for the whole world to be satisfied of a hunger for a way to live?

We live side by side like small tiles in a mosaic. “Bear with one another charitably, in complete selflessness gentleness and patience” (second reading). We cannot fit into the mosaic of life when we do not love the other, when we are selfish and not selfless. We must smoothen our edges with gentleness by doing good to one another, and be patient for the eventual outcome of life. We must act with the innocent mind of that small boy.

We must also be like the people in the crowd eager and expectant, listening and searching, wanting to believe that the Divine is present in our every day life, patiently knowing that we are all part of his big picture.

We are merely small tiles but looked after and polished by the master artist. We fit perfectly into the beautiful mosaic of life eternal when we trustingly give away our very own 5 loaves and 2 fishes.

Small tiles coming together framing the multiplication of the offerings of our humble skill sets in the good we do.

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

In Thai this phrase ask, “Do you understand?” Here is something thought provoking when we have the literal translation: ‘Kao jai’ mean ‘enter into heart’. Not being a language expert, I shall not venture beyond this literal translation. Here is the provocation: to learn and to understand, especially about morals and values, requires more heart than head. Any teaching imparted must touch the heart.

Tham Luang cave touched our hearts. It taught humankind a better way to live. It showed us a better route for our earthly journey. Hearts were moved with pity, and pity moved humans into action. We were taught something about life, not with words but with deeds. Words were not necessary as we had ‘kao jai’ the teaching. It had already entered our heart.

We hear debates everywhere in public places sometimes degenerating into arguments. Scholars intellectually trying to prove a point. Believers trying to convince disbelievers. Church goers trying to woo back those who had wandered away. Standing on an intellectual mount has its dangers. Head alone risk us descending to being condescending and judgmental, immediately contradicting the morals and values we are trying to teach. Our overzealousness to prove everything by words will only result in further distancing the heart of those we are wooing.

The gospels were written post-Jesus. Act came first, words followed. Language used to try to explain the lessons of life taught by the action of Jesus. Today’s gospel passage tell us that Jesus sat down to teach because he was “moved by pity”. Love flowed from his heart for him to impart his teachings into the hearts of those listening. Deed is a better vehicle than word.

Taking from a friend’s post this week, Fr Ambrose Vaz said, “Our theology is complete and sound. We just lack the language to fully express it”. Spot on. If we are always moved by pity, we will be much closer to fully expressing it.

Humankind has progressed intellectually by leaps and bounds, so much so that we believe more in our own powers of persuasion. In trying to convince a disbeliever we sometimes play with the power of words but without action. When we do not practice what we preach and are not moved by pity, we put more distance between the disbeliever and us. In this widening divide, we hear the echo of the first reading, “Doom for the shepherds who allow the flock of my pasture to be destroyed and scattered” (first reading).

Christ came to woo the hearts of the disbelievers. He closed up the distance not by word but by act. “In Christ Jesus, you that used to be so far apart from us have been brought very close, by the blood of Christ” (second reading). The blood of Christ is the pity that flowed from him. It is an act which theology is based on but language unable to fully express. Are the words, “it is an ultimate act of selflessness” enough to give life? Barely enough to match the impact a small act of self-giving will have on the other.

We are all called to be shepherds, all of us part of humankind wandering like sheep in search of a better way to live, to find a better route for our earthly journey. If we are truly believers, we must fully express it in acts of selflessness by allowing pity to flow through us to the other person. And pity can only flow through deed.

Remember the saintly quote, “Preach the Gospel at all times, if necessary use words”. If I am a disbeliever, I am more likely to be won over by an experience of faith and an encounter with pity rather than from a debate of the intellect. In those ways the heart of the disbeliever is touched. Every teaching must enter into heart.

Kao jai mai.

On the Sea of Galilee and the gentle rolling hills where Jesus “moved with pity” taught

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

We were fixated these past two weeks as our hearts were drawn into Tham Luang cave. We were gripped in anxiety until tension dissolved into ecstasy. In this episode of life, something quite extraordinary came out of humankind. At the jubilant end, Thai Navy Seals posted, “We are not sure if this is a miracle, a science, or what. All the thirteen Wild Boars are now out of the cave”. I choose “miracle”.

I have always lived with the belief that there are no coincidences. Luck is the far-sightedness of the Divine. It was reported that the British diver who found the boys was laying guide lines in the water and his rope had come to an end coincidentally at the place where the boys were. Coincidence or a moment the unseen guiding hand of the Divine became visible? Nonetheless, prayers were answered, search became rescue.

This is an incredible story of hope and love. We were captivated by the human spirit, charmed by the love that flowed out of it. From the divers to the cleaners, there were multiple little stories of courage and bravery, of kindness and generosity. They came from all over Thailand and from the world. No one came to profit, only to give. One, Sanam Gunan came and gave his life. One human virtue stood above all: selflessness.

This is a timely lesson for all of us in a world falling out of orbit, gravitating towards self-centeredness. In modest Mae Sai, poor people taught the rich how to live. A small village showed the big world that there is a better way. Out of the poverty as one individual, there was richness in simply coming together when everyone selflessly put together what they know how to do, however humble that skill set may be.

We encountered great examples of selflessness. Valeepoan Gunan who lost her husband urged the boys not to blame themselves. Coach Ek, a convenient figure to lay blame on was instead appreciated by parents like an angel sent to be the guardian of the boys and was touchingly told, “When he comes out, we have to heal his heart. My dear Ek, I would never blame you.” Then there were the poor farmers who allowed their rice fields to be flooded, many rejecting compensation wanting simply to give.

No claims of glory, no blame, no costs, no personal rights, no compensation. Just gratefulness. There is something powerful for humanity here. Love at its purest flowed. When mission impossible became mission possible, leader of the rescue operation, Mr Narongsak said, “This mission was successful because we had power. The power of love”. Indeed, and who and what or can science dispute this?

Love has its source in God. God does not claim for us to believe in Him. He does not rule us with an authority that forces us into submission. It is our free choice. We can choose to see him or to hide him in disbelieving coincidences. We can choose to walk away from Tham Luang cave not believing that God does exist.

In a chaotic finale to the rescue, as the last rescuers walked out of the cave it suddenly began to flood rapidly. Locals believed it was divine intervention, “It was protected until the end”. I guess they chose “miracle” too.

God will just continue to try to win our hearts. If He doesn’t, He will just shake off the dust from his sandal and continue to wait in hope for us. At Tham Luang, we saw the kingdom of God in our midst. We experienced what the world would be like when true love freely flows. We do not need science or miracle, just our true uncorrupted human spirit of selflessness. This is what we carry in our backpack through the journey of our earthly life. This is the power of love. Hooyah.

“The basic human virtue of helping one another in a spirit of generosity and love, is in itself a power of formidable strength which can make humankind go on living together in everlasting peace.” – His Majesty, King Vajiralongkorn.

A drawing in tribute of Sanam Gunan telling the kids not to worry but grow up as good people. Such is the touch of love, an invaluable lesson we learn from Tham Luang.

15th Ordinary Sunday

I used to proclaim that, “Happiness is a pint of beer away!” Life was a carnival. Bright lights, boozy nights. Young, in good health, and success trending up, there was a feel of invincibility. Enter a bar and your favorite beer is immediately thrust into your hand. They know me. They make me feel special. Image is important. It feeds the ego.

I was brought up living a good Catholic life. But in the early years of my working life, I lost my way. I was materially successful before I became spiritually matured. The image of invincibility did not include an image of God. It is embarrassing to proclaim that you go to church. God is kept hidden and at a distant, my Catholic identity buried. ‘It’ is just a religion.

I situate myself into today’s Gospel but with a personal slant. “A prophet is only despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own house”. I reflect on my return to active church ministry after years of living with my Catholic identity hidden.

How and why I came back is a story for another day. Today’s passage somehow reminded me of the sheepish embarrassment I felt when I began physically spending more time in church and disappearing from my regular drinking haunts. It was too uncool to proclaim that I was serving the church. I felt awkward at my double identity in my own network of business associates, among my own relations and friends and in my own home. “This is the carpenter, surely”. This is the one always at the bar, surely?

Embarrassment is like a capsule. You want to stay in and hide but it feels so restrictive. Yet you are too shy to emerge from it. We hide because we don’t want to lose that strongman image. We are embarrassed because of our past life style. But many of us are embarrassed simply because we feel we are not qualified. We are not fit, not capable, not competent, not skilled and not experienced to do God’s work maybe because of our low educational background or our low social standing. We are mistakenly embarrassed because we have never excelled in anything we did.

Embarrassment is more like a cocoon. Embarrassment keeps us hidden and force us to internalize the changes in us. During this time, God’s graces are busily working to restore us, repairing our low spiritual self-esteem. Then the graces work to affirm us, to tell us and empower us that we can do it. Embarrassment is a time period when graces flow deep into us to complete our transformation. When we are ready, He pushes us out of the cocoon and we emerge a colorful butterfly.

“‘My grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness.’ So I shall be very happy to make my weaknesses my special boast so that the power of Christ may stay over me, and that is why I am quite content with my weaknesses, and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and the agonies I go through for Christ’s sake. For it is when I am weak that I am strong.” (Today’s second reading).

My colorful past used to embarrass me but is now a valuable catalogue of experiences I share with others in their cocoon. I came out of my own cocoon some time ago and found true happiness in life. His graces have dramatically changed my life, not by taking away who I am but by making me fuller for who I am, even utilizing all my weaknesses to make me strong. It is quite evident that parts of me are left untouched; He never took away my pint of beer. Indeed, happiness is still a pint away!

14th Ordinary Sunday

In life we know that in order to find true happiness we need to be generous to others, in ways both materially and spiritually. I think most people in honesty want to. But people are such that we need to accumulate enough for ourselves before we consider giving some to others. We try to figure out how much enough is really enough. Often, we get lost in our surpluses.

“This does not mean that to give relief to others you ought to make things difficult for yourselves: it is a question of balancing what happens to be your surplus now against their present need, and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need”. (Today’s second reading)

This is not a new savings plan with a guaranteed return. At least, not materially where we can draw back what we have given when we are in need. To use a ‘people term’, this is an investment, but a spiritual investment. It pays out fulfilment and it is life giving to others and self.

What holds most people back to give generously to others (mistakenly) is sometimes the image of the crucifix. To become good people – “to give relief to others” – does not mean a life of suffering. Too often, we practice our faith stuck at the foot of the cross. We are not called into ritualistic penance. Becoming good people of faith does not mean to live our life on a cross.

The crucifix is a reminder of his love that will give relief to our lives. Blood poured in that image to take away anything that brings death to our life. Love flowed to give us true happiness. He rose to conquer all death. “Death was not God’s doing, he takes no pleasure in the extinction of the living” (first reading). He takes pleasure to see us alive, to live life happily and joyfully. He wants us to live off his Cross.

However in reality we do get lost in the surpluses of this world. When we do not know when enough is enough, we disconnect ourselves from the flow of his love and our faith life hemorrhages. Slowly happiness is bled out of us. It may take 12 years, or sometimes even longer. Until desperation, sometimes accompanied by physical pain, drives us deep into submission to want to admit God back into our life. Desperate hope tells us it’s enough if we can just touch his clothes.

We are never alone in our desperation. When our spiritual surpluses run dry, someone will come with something to spare for our own need. God will send a Jairus to us to lead and plead on our behalf because we ourselves have become too poor spiritually. God takes no pleasure in seeing us live a life devoid of true happiness. He will always say “Talitha kum!” and continue to love us as though we are just a little girl in faith. Live and be rich in our spiritual life!

The world today is hemorrhaging simply because people cannot tell when enough is really enough. Going this way will only guarantee that we will live life on a cross. Be generous, allow his blood to flow through our lives, and live life off the Cross.

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time