Friday, October 14, 2011

A new star in the blogosky

Dear Takamasa Ishihara (no, not the famous Miyavi, he's more of a Myvi) recounts the first part of his conversion experience. Do go and say hi.



(NOT Miyavi)

Myvi

Priest of the future

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Without and within

While He (Jesus) was speaking, a Pharisee asked Him to dine with Him; so He went in and sat at table. The Pharisee was astonished to see that He did not first wash before dinner. And the Lord said to him, "Now you Pharisees cleanse the outside of the cup and of the dish, but inside you are full of extortion and wickedness. You fools! Did not He who made the outside make the inside also? But give for alms those things which are within; and behold everything is clean for you." -Luke 11:37-41 I was serving Mass yesterday evening, and I was tired after a day at work and sleepy and it was very warm, especially under the layers of cassock, surplice and street clothes. When the Gospel reading began, I thought it was the familiar white-washed tombs reading. But a closer listen showed something different.

How much more ashamed would my Lord be if called upon to claim me as one of His own before His Father, me a sinner. And I was ashamed to claim to be a follower of My Lord and God? How stupid can I be? I now make the sign of the Cross, not to show off, but to own up to being a Christian, a follower of the Crucified one. It was not easy. It was a process that took time. I was still very reticent about drawing attention to myself and it took great effort of mind and will to do it, consistently. But in doing so, it forced be to guard by behaviour and my manners, to be worthy of that great sign of our salvation. It's the same reason I wear a crucifix. I kneel down to pray, not to show off, but that's the way I was taught to pray. We kneel when approaching our Maker and Creator. Despite what others might think or what others might be doing and even if no one does it. Not to feel superior, but because it's the way our conscience dictates that God should be approached and while our bodies can still do so, let us kneel!. If it becomes something that's too easy, something done without thought, then stop. If it's done to glorify yourself, then stop. But if it's difficult, if it's not something that you really want to do cos it draws attention, it makes you guard your tongue and your behaviour, then consider doing the externals.
The Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner and Jesus did not perform the ritual ablution but dived straight in. I guess the poor Pharisee let his astonishment show for he was in for a very stern rebuke. On the surface, the message, now familiar, should be pretty clear. It's a message that those who tend to neglect the outward elements of the faith, be it attending Mass, praying, fasting, wearing a crucifix or even dressing decently often fling in the face of those of us who either do those things or try to promote them. It's what's inside that's important, it's the heart (or thought) that counts. Cut all the externals and focus on the internals and stop being so legalistic and Pharisaical and all will be fine. A closer reading firstly reveals that the message cuts both ways! "You fools! Did not He who made the outside make the inside also?" So, the dish should be cleaned on the outside AND inside. For God not only made the heart, but the body as well and what is in our heart should be manifested outwardly, not in a showy, self-serving and self-promoting way like the Pharisee who prayed loudly on the steps of the Temple extolling his own righteousness in contrast to the tax-collector, but in al way that should come naturally.
What's inside will come through and will shine through. In a non-Christian country like Malaysia, wearing the external symbols of the faith, such as a crucifix brings no benefit to the wearer but instead serves as a proclamation and a visible sign of the Christian faith. When the authorities are so afraid of letting crosses be erected on the tops of Churches, this tangible presence of Christianity and Christ and the sacred in the public square is something that should be promoted. Similarly, making the sign of the Cross in public, especially when we pass by a Church. It reminds ourselves and others of the Presence that dwells within those walls. It's not an easy thing to do. It draws attention. And for many of us, the last thing we want to do is to draw attention to ourselves. Especially when you're an adolescent. I can relate to that. When I was a kid, I was taught to make the sign of the Cross when passing by a Church. When I grew older, the gestures became smaller and faster until it was no more than a small sign made by my fingers over my heart (when no one was looking). However, one day, when I was taking the bus, I noticed a lady making a prominent sign of the Cross as we passed a Church, and everyone was looking. I remembered feeling very very ashamed, for being ashamed. I was ashamed of the sign of the Cross, ashamed of what others might think and in so doing, forgot how my Lord must have felt to see me 'deny' Him in public.



The Gospel reading reminded me that yes, although what's inside is important, what we do externally is important as well. It's doubly hard to be a Christian inside and out, to be clean inside and out. But we are psycho-somatic beings, we are not disembodied spirits, but beings of both body and soul. That unity should always be manifested in all we do, for the greater glory of God.

Monday, October 10, 2011

The original Egyptians


I was moved by this photo on Facebook of the Coptic Christians, the original inhabitants of Egypt, who were killed in the latest round of violence against Christians. Some were crushed by police and army vehicles.

O Holy God, how long?

Saturday, October 08, 2011

The Hound of Heaven

Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago, writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy:

Some twelve years ago, I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session in the Theology of Faith. That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his long flaxen hair, which hung six inches below his shoulders.

It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long.
I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind that it isn't what's on your head but what's in it that counts; but on that day. I was unprepared and my emotions flipped.

I immediately filed Tommy under "S" for strange... Very strange.

Tommy turned out to be the "atheist in residence" in my Theology of Faith course.

He constantly objected to, smirked at, or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew.

When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam, he asked in a cynical tone, "Do you think I'll ever find God?"
I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. "No!" I said very emphatically.
"Why not," he responded, "I thought that was the product you were pushing."

I let him get five steps from the classroom door and then I called out, "Tommy! I don't think you'll ever find Him, but I am absolutely certain that He will find you!" He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.

I felt slightly disappointed at the thought that he had missed my clever line -- He will find you! At least I thought it was clever.

Later I heard that Tommy had graduated, and I was duly grateful.


Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer.

Before I could search him out, he came to see me.

When he walked into my office, his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy. But his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe.

"Tommy, I've thought about you so often; I hear you are sick," I blurted out.

"Oh, yes, very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It's a matter of weeks."
"Can you talk about it, Tom?" I asked.
"Sure, what would you like to know?" he replied.
"What's it like to be only twenty-four and dying?
"Well, it could be worse.
"Like what?”

"Well, like being fifty and having no values or ideals, like being fifty and thinking that booze, seducing women, and making money are the real biggies in life.”

I began to look through my mental file cabinet under "S" where I had filed Tommy as strange. (It seems as though everybody I try to reject by classification, God sends back into my life to educate me.)


"But what I really came to see you about," Tom said, "is something you said to me on the last day of class." (He remembered!) He continued, "I asked you if you thought I would ever find God and you said, 'No!' which surprised me. Then you said, 'But He will find you.’ I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. (My clever line. He thought about that a lot!) "But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me that it was malignant, that's when I got serious about locating God.And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs, I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven.

But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with great effort and with no success?

You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying. And then you quit.

"Well, one day I woke up, and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may be or may not be there, I just quit. I decided that I didn't really care about God, about an afterlife, or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and I remembered something else you had said:

'The essential sadness is to go through life without loving..’


But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without ever telling those you loved that you had loved them.

"So, I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him.
"Dad."
"Yes, what?" he asked without lowering the newspaper.
"Dad, I would like to talk with you."
"Well, talk.”
"I mean. It's really important."
The newspaper came down three slow inches. "What is it?"
"Dad, I love you, I just wanted you to know that." Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction, as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him.
"The newspaper fluttered to the floor. Then my father did two things I could never remember him ever doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night, even though he had to go to work the next morning."

“It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear him say that he loved me."
"It was easier with my mother and little brother. They cried with me, too, and we hugged each other, and started saying real nice things to each other. We shared the things we had been keeping secret for so many years."

"I was only sorry about one thing --- that I had waited so long."


"Here I was, just beginning to open up to all the people I had actually been close to..

"Then, one day I turned around and God was there.

"He didn't come to me when I pleaded with Him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop, 'C'mon, jump through. C'mon, I'll give you three days, three weeks."

Apparently God does things in His own way and at His own hour.

"But the important thing is that He was there. He found me! You were right. He found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

"Tommy," I practically gasped, "I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me, at least, you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love..

You know, the Apostle John said that. He said: 'God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living with God and God is living in him.

"Tom, could I ask you a favor? You know, when I had you in class you were a real pain. But (laughingly) you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you have just told me? If I told them the same thing it wouldn't be half as effective as if you were to tell it..”

"Oooh.. I was ready for you, but I don't know if I'm ready for your class."

"Tom, think about it. If and when you are ready, give me a call."

In a few days Tom called, said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me.

So we scheduled a date.

However, he never made it. He had another appointment, far more important than the one with me and my class.

Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed.

He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever heard or the mind of man has ever imagined.

Before he died, we talked one last time.

"I'm not going to make it to your class," he said.
"I know, Tom."
"Will you tell them for me? Will you...tell the whole world for me?"

I will, Tom. I'll tell them. I'll do my best."

So, to all of you who have been kind enough to read this simple story about God's love, thank you for listening. And to you, Tommy, somewhere in the sunlit, verdant hills of heaven --- I told them, Tommy, as best I could.

If this story means anything to you, please pass it on to a friend or two.

It is a true story and is not enhanced for publicity purposes.

With thanks, Rev. John Powell, Professor,
Loyola University, Chicago

Full disclosure: Fr. Powell was sued for molesting a young lady in the late 60's and admitted to it and paid compensation. He is a Jesuit.

Friday, October 07, 2011

Anathema sit!


If I were starting a blog about dogs, I'd call it Anathema sit. If a seminary were looking to name their dog, Anathema would be fantastic.

Furry will not be amused