… Jesus’ problem was not religion against irreligion. Both he and his opponents believed in the same God, studied the same scriptures, worshipped in the same temple, observed the same feast days and accepted the same basic doctrines.
The conflict between Jesus and his opponent was not one of religion against another religion, such as Judaism against Christianity, or Christians against Muslims. It was a family feud. It was a disagreement within the same religious tradition. All faiths have conflict with something and someone in their religious faith.
One cannot distinguish between good religion, and bad religion by merely checking the labels. If it happens to be our particular brand, that makes it good. If it wears any other label, that makes it bad. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Good religion is deeply committed to meeting human need, whenever and wherever it may be found. That objective is always high on its list of priorities.
When a family is out of work and out of food, good religion will be there with a sack of groceries and a word of encouragement. When hearts are broken, good religion will be there to share the grief. When sin has devastated a life, good religion will be there to care, to understand and, if need be, to forgive.
Jesus said: “The greatest among you will be the one who serves the rest.” A serious commitment to practise service is one difference between good religion and bad religion.
Good religion and bad religion – the world has too little of one and too much of the other.
What kind is yours and mine?
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what kind is yours and mine? it’s strange to pose that question to people who share the same belief in Him. In Him. IN HIM. not anything else. as the writer says, it’s a family feud. sad.
one night, many months later, i was on the computer, possibly on ICQ, chatting away and the television was turned on. those were the days when they still played MTVs on Channel 5. and “Casper the Friendly Ghost” was a recent release.
the song, “Remember Me This Way” came on. i remember vividly. i was alone in the living room, typing away… when i heard the song, i started to sing along and then suddenly, i started sobbing so heavily. big, fat tears were just rolling down my face.
i stumbled out on the balcony. stumbled because my vision was blurred and there were so many tears. i looked up at the night sky and as far as i remember, it was the first time i didn’t believe in God at all. i didn’t ‘have’ a religion but all my life, i had believed in God. it was only a matter of finding out who He is.
but that night, i lost faith. and that was frightening for me then. i felt so alone and i had never felt so frightened. it was as if, life didn’t matter. why should it if there was no God?
i remember thinking, “what if Science is right and Religion is bullshit? what if people die and all they become is ashes and dust?”
i said out loud to the sky with no trace of faith at all, “if YOU exist, if YOU’RE there, PROVE IT. i don’t believe in you anymore. i need a SIGN. PROVE IT TO ME.” now, i don’t ask for signs. if you believe, you believe. there’s no need for concrete evidence or signs to prove anything. but that was how desperate i was.
after spewing those angry words out, i wiped the tears away and i went back to the computer. i was angry because i felt that He didn’t exist at all. not only Him but there was just no God. no buddha, no krishna, no Allah, no nothing.
for the next 2 weeks, life went on but there was a part of me that was empty inside. i felt like a shell. or i was just dead inside. i still went to school. i still laughed and chatted but… it wasn’t the same. i was just going through the motions.
and even on our visits to Auntie D then, i felt empty. i didn’t even feel sad anymore. i only played a part i had to because i know not everyone else didn’t feel sad too. back then, there were 4 of us who very close to Auntie D. we visited her at least 3 times in a week. initially, we were a source of support for her but she gradually started to treat us like her own children.
on this one particular visit 2 weeks later, she was happier than usual and she said she dreamt of Sarah. i remember acting out the “oh!!! tell us!!!” but inside, i was still angry and thought, “so? it’s not real. nothing is.” i was munching impassively on the snacks she prepared as she related the story.
here it goes:
she had gone into Sarah’s room as she did everyday, and sat on the floor to ‘talk’ to Sarah. she told her that her grandmother was in hospital and that if she was able to, go ‘visit’ her grandmother at this hospital in this ward. that was that.
a few days later, Robin Hood came rushing over to the house. he rushed in happily, telling Auntie D he had dreamt of Sarah. he dreamt that as he got off his bike at home (he cycled everywhere then), his cousin came running out of the house to demand to know where he’s been because Sarah was in the house waiting for him. so Robin Hood ran into the house and she was gone. he turned to ask his cousin where did Sarah go and his cousin replied, “she said she was going to visit her grandmother in the hospital”.
+++++
i cried when Auntie D finished her story. that was all the sign i needed. it might have been some sort of weird coincidence. or who knows? perhaps Auntie D had unknowingly mentioned something about Sarah’s grandmother being in the hospital to Robin Hood. or he had picked up the information somehow. but it didn’t matter.
because that was God’s answer to me. i FELT it. because as the story concluded, the peace i felt was unmistakable. i KNEW it was the sign i needed. it was enough.
i have never questioned if God exists since.
i had an obsession with the name ‘Sarah’ since i was 15. that’s because a good friend, Sarah, or the ‘Golden Girl’ as i called her, passed away then. i never wanted to forget her. and so i held on to everything that she owned, including her name.
‘Sarah’ is Hebrew for ‘princess’, a Biblical name from the Old Testament. those were days when i had never considered ever getting baptised though i did want to be a Christian or already was, in my beliefs. but i always thought that i would want to call myself Sarah… or rather, Sera, just so i would feel closer to her.
Sera is short for Seraphina, the angel of love. also Biblical… or maybe from apocalyptic writings. is it apocalyptic…? i forget what texts that are not canonically recognised are called.
in any case, when i eventually started RCIA and it occured to me that i had a chance to choose a name, if i wanted, i assumed i would choose ‘Sera’. i didn’t even give it much thought… firstly, because it was just a name… and it wasn’t even as if i didn’t already have a name… and secondly, because i was just so sure it would be ‘Sera’ i didn’t have to consider other alternatives.
some of my friends thought it would be that too.
yet for some strange reason, when i was to submit a name for my certificate, i didn’t offer ‘Sera’. instead, i stuck to my name.
two questions come to mind now. i’m not sure if it came to my mind then but my thoughts were along similar lines as these questions now:
Will you die for the one you love?
(i would, if i don’t prove to be a coward when it comes down to that)
Will you live for the one you love?
That is much harder, i feel. imagine you have to watch a loved one die and you’re wishing you can die with him since you imagine yourself to be dead without that person by your side anyway… and he turns to you and asks you for the one thing that is probably the biggest request he can make… that you continue to live well and be happy. can you make that promise, knowing that you will be mourning and grieving and missing him for the rest of your life? can you promise to be happy when you are not confident you will ever be again?
and because you love him so much, you promise him: “Yes, i will be happy for you. i will LIVE.”
thoughts like that were on my mind as i decided to promise to follow God. i doubt i will have problems feeling sad and being downcast in life because i tend to swing towards negativity and depressive thoughts. it’s not difficult to dwell on problems and difficulties.
but could i be happy for Him? after all He’s done for me and after this gift of faith and life He’s given me, can i be Happy for Him?
i don’t know. i’m not confident that i can. but i want to try and i want to commit to that. and so, i stuck with my name. and i’m glad i did. because ‘Sera’ isn’t me. my name is. and it’s been my name all along. i read a story before that God has already called us by name before we agree to be with Him. He has already written our names. it’s a nice story… fiction probably, to think that He has literally given us a name.
but i understood then as i understand now… what it means to be called by name. because my name is my inspiration… and it only means this much to me, as others’ names have that same effect on them… to this day, whenever i am down or feel sad, i try to recall why i settled on this name and it helps. because God doesn’t want me to be sad… He wants me to be joyful!
if only i remember it more often!
Lebanon is a land of paradise for so many, the land where Jesus turned water into wine. In a twist of irony Israel has turned the waters of Lebanon blood red. So the cycle of death continues.
… …
Yet I affirm with conviction that religion will play a role in Lebanon’s peace if only the Lebanese people can put aside their differences. When the Muslims and Christians learn to work together as a unified body than it may become a more formidable force, one that no amount of weapons can destroy. This is where religion becomes the hero of peace rather than the scapegoat for war.
Maybe the Kingdom of Heaven is, after all, one big party. A party where people of different religions unite and rejoice together, just as Jesus did all those years ago in Cana when the people were running empty on wine. Maybe Lebanon is just running empty on peace and this is the miracle that can make it the life of the party once more.
the search for answers placed me in a state of dissatisfaction and frustration recently. when faced with a problem or a question, i sometimes, feel tired in having to discern God’s will and constantly trying to hear His voice and only succeeding in hearing whispers that point me every which way.
I NEED A LOUD, NEON FLASHING ARROW TO SHOW ME THE PATH TO TAKE!
so i either have to be patient and continue searching or i can give up the quest. the problem with being patient is that, i’m not. and yet, giving up is not an option. how can it even be one? i’ll just end up more lost than ever. and that outright rejection of God is something i can’t do.
thus the lack of strength to take the next step or a general loss of any feeling is what i end up with. and i NEED to FEEL. it’s a NEED. i feel dead otherwise.
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yesterday evening, i went down to Risen Christ to interview Father Loiseau for a story on his 80th birthday celebrations.
i was there to conduct an interview so i got into the right disposition, which usually means, not having a clear idea of what to do but just being there for an informal chat with the person i’m meeting and letting the conversation unfold. usually, all i need to do is to nudge the person i’m interviewing with a few questions and they will reveal bits about themselves that i think i am astute enough to pick up for a good enough story. i don’t like to push if they don’t wish to speak. in that respect, my journalist instincts are definitely not honed sharply enough – i lack that hunger for a story. i just want to talk to them because i have that opportunity to. and i suppose talking to people usually gives you some insight into how another human being works. in the general scheme of the game of Life, these little nuggets of their personal lives have proven to, more than usual, be instrumental clues to how i should lead mine.
i’ll take what i can get. stories are not worth offending others for. neither will i be able to justify upsetting somebody just to churn out a nice little article to put my name to. Ambition has never been something i have. it’s a gift i lack, if it’s a gift at all.
(Disclaimer: in my job, maybe Ambition is a gift… hmmm…)
WELL ANYWAY!!!! i digress.
Father Loiseau was roughly silent in the beginning. he only spoke to tease me about knowing so few French priests or not knowing more about the Church. =)
but as the evening unfolded, he asked two simple personal questions, possibly out of courtesy or just to keep the conversation going. those questions i answered factually, and i revealed nothing about my state of mind or how i might possibly be feeling.
yet, suddenly, he was talking as if he knew the problems i had, or the situations i was in, or that i was an open book and he could read every thing that i was thinking and feeling.
several times, i caught myself thinking, “did i forget that i said something?” because i did not! so how is it he was speaking to ME?
i didn’t get the answers i needed… well, maybe because i don’t even clearly know what the questions i’m asking are.
but Father Loiseau said a few things that struck me right at the heart of my heart.
“learn more about your faith. you are not obliged to be a charismatic (Hell, NO!!!). you are not obliged to be a Divine Mercy devotee (thank God!). but you are obliged to be a child of God.”
now what does that mean? i thought i knew. i thought he was trying to tell me i am obliged to live by my baptismal promises. but… not really.
“God wants you to be happy.”
(*SCREAMS!!!*)
so i am obliged to be happy.
it’s so simple! why have i been so blind?
the pursuit of answers can drain me so much, to the point that i feel… either empty or filled only with negativity… and all i need to know is that i need to be happy.
it’s not like ‘sinning’. you know doing A is a sin but sometimes, you just like A so much that you actually consciously choose to give in to doing A. or you are not strong enough to not commit A so you sometimes end up sinning anyway. that’s different.
being happy is different. i wasn’t even conscious that i was BEING unhappy! i think i have a lot to be happy for. but sometimes, i surround myself with fears, doubts and allow them to ensnare me in feeling insecure and frightful of non-existent pain that may come my way if i’m not careful enough.
how dumb is that?
I am obliged to be happy because I am a child of God and God wants me to be happy.
GOD wants me to be happy.
God wants ME to be happy.
God wants me to be HAPPY.
it’s sooooooo simple.
i’m not exactly sure why i felt so uplifted talking to Father Loiseau last night. but he looked at me and he looked right through me. he looked at me and he SAW me. he spoke and his words were meant just for ME. he spoke TO ME.
i know enough Christian language to be able to pinpoint directly, he was an instrument of God just for me last night. God works in mysterious ways. but in one of those occurences that stand to be less and less rare the more i grow, and yet still never fail to amaze me, God appears always in just the right way that i NEED, just the very moment i NEED Him to.
these days, i find myself open and waiting for Him to show Himself. rather than expecting Him to, i know He does in His own time. and His chosen time is always, ALWAYS the very time i NEED. He knows when it is. and the same words said on an occasion picked by Him are just the very words that become soothing balms for a barren state… the nourishment for a weak soul, the relief for an aching heart or the answers to unasked questions.
i guess i am still left with that many questions… not even real ones because i don’t know what the questions are exactly so i don’t know what it is i’m looking for precisely… BUT they don’t matter. cos God has spoken. and he said, “I want YOU to be HAPPY.”
i want to be an obedient child of God. i am obliged to live as one.
so… oh well! i guess i have to be happy. 
… it helps you to discern what God is saying.
or maybe that’s just me.
there are times when i’m angry or upset, or pretty much hurt, that i find myself at a loss because prayers don’t bring comfort or relief.
so then i have to calm myself down to think rationally and examine my options. i still want to do God’s will but in situations like these, i am incapable of seeing what that will is.
and so begins Crazy Conversation.
*knock knock* God?
………….. (probably = you again….)
what should i do? should i do ‘A’ or ‘B’?
what do you feel?
i want to do ‘A’ and yet, i feel that maybe ‘B’ is the right option.
why do you feel that? (at this point, if i am unable to answer, Crazy Conversation will become futile after a while. this is when i have to break it or ‘come out’ of it because if i don’t, the answers or responses i get are pretty much self-manufactured rather than the ‘voice of God’, my ‘conscience’, my ‘instinct’ or whatever other names there are.)
forget it! goodbye. thanks for listening though. (Crazy Conversation ends.)
i don’t consciously turn to the Devil. i don’t go to it for advice. i’m not that insane yet. but as i weigh the alternatives in my mind and i consider my motivations for each alternative, there is one voice that rings out louder.
and it’s usually not God’s. cos God seldom, if ever, i think, tries to shout out instructions. usually, his is a soft prompting that beckons us toward it but which, if we ignore, just fades with our choice.
so there’ll be one part of me that wants to do ‘A’ cos it’s the so-called “bigger” thing to do. it’s harder (another indication that it’s right but in that state of blindness, both options seem equally tough) and it’s what the other person will prefer (ANOTHER indication but again, cannot be seen in a situation of blindness). because these reasons are masked, i am unable to see that it’s the right or better choice in that situation.
why ‘B’ then? because “you have a RIGHT to do this…”, “you SHOULD”, “you deserve MORE…”.
hang on a minute….. *suspicion aroused*
God doesn’t do that! he doesn’t ask me to select my weapons to go chasing after what i “DESERVE”. he doesn’t tell me i have a “RIGHT” to something other than what he gives.
it is at this juncture i feel victory. actual, sweet, even proud victory. i recognise that voice and i recognise those methods.
BE GONE!
and i am free.
time has stopped for me before.
really.
once, i was in a cab, already late and made later by getting stuck in heavy traffic. i was headed for a meeting i wanted to go for, which only excerbated my anxiety, knowing i am separated from it by what seemed like eternity.
i looked down at my watch. then i looked up at the cars in front of my cab. then i looked ahead at the red traffic light. (ever wonder how they have a way of turning red just as you are approaching them, but only when you are in a rush to get somewhere?)
(aside: over the weekend, i made a discovery. Murphy is Satan.)
so then, i said a little prayer. i knew the cars can’t miraculously disappear though for the record, i’ll just like to state that if God wills it so, they can. except that God will probably never will it so, so they can’t. i knew also the traffic lights won’t change and remain at green for me.
so i asked for patience and to just… let go… *breathes out*. let go of my anxiety and my urgent need to get to my destination. then i sat back to look out the window and watch the pitter patter of drizzling that had added to the heavy traffic.
an eternity passed. or so it seemed.
when next i looked at the watch, i was convinced that a good 20-minutes have passed. resignation had long replaced anxiety. since i was soooo late anyway, i should just accept it.
LO AND BEHOLD! (haha) practically only a few minutes, less than five, have passed by. amazing, isn’t it?
God loves me… i’ve been told. and He stopped time for me. twice. i can’t remember the other incident now.
What’s the point of having a religion when it causes more division between people? Mummy’s Girl said to me once.
But it’s not true, I told her.
Of course it is! she retorted. I saw a thought bubble pushing its way out of the side of her head and it said, Just look at your situation…
I paused… she’s probably right in more ways than I want to admit. If two people believing in the same God can’t even unite, how can two people who don’t even share a God?
What is the point of a religion?
I spent probably about 20 years believing religions are worthless in as much as I was believing in God. Yup, faith does not equal religion. Never have, probably never will. They aren’t mutually exclusive but they can be, for some.
So what is the point?
Religion, for me, brings me closer to God. It is the channel for me to get in touch with what already lies within me – my faith. Religion helps me to deepen my faith. Religion lends me a concrete way to express my faith.
But I pity the day Religion becomes more important than my Faith.
Jesus left us one message, a poignantly clear one – “Love one another, as I have loved you.”
If we can’t even do that, and we can’t even begin to comprehend the depth of it, then we can’t even start to manifest it in our lives…
Then what’s the point of discussing religion? Why can’t we just dicuss what’s closer in our hearts? Our faith… a faith that teaches us to love?
“Crucify him!” i said as loudly as i dared when Pontius Pilate asked what we wanted to do with Jesus.
when he asked a second time, i said more loudly, though my heart was breaking because i knew the outcome of the trial and i knew jesus would die because of me.
“CRUCIFY HIM!!!”…. in the moment those words came out of me, i felt as if time had wrapped itself up and all of it – from the beginning to eternity from now – all met on one plane, enmeshed in that singular period when all of humanity, now long dead and gone, now yet to be borne, screamed out in one voice, “C R U C I F Y H I M !!!!!”
i hate my part in the Palm Sunday Gospel reading. we are always the crowd, the ingrates who shouted for Pontius Pilate to crucify Jesus.
as the thought of just how much i hate the lines i had came to mind, the recognition also sank in, with that sensation again of time folding in upon itself, that i am fully responsible for His crucifixion.
just minutes ago, we had been waving palms as the priest and his entourage of altar boys processed passed us into the church. i waved Christ in with mixed emotions…
… with joy because i know that i had shared in the momentous event in history when Jesus Christ himself (!!!) rode past me on a donkey and i saw him through others’ bobbing heads and frantic waves of their palms!
… but also with sorrow as i knew that minutes later i would be one of the same people who welcomed him, to want him crucified.
i was a part of that great unfolding that led to the world being saved. with heaviness of heart, a great, big lump in my throat and a desire to be a part of those Jesus died for, if that is what it takes to accept His love as well, i mustered enough courage to admit my failings and enough strength to not break into tears as i uttered: “C R U C I F Y H I M”.
when i was in college, i fell in love with a boy i didn’t know.
a year later, we went to Changi beach. there, we spent an afternoon not doing anything much. it didn’t go well at all. but he left me with three words that i carried with me even when he disappeared. he described that afternoon as “time well spent”.
a year later, when i was on my knees praying for love to take me out of my loneliness, i had in mind a specific person to ask for and it wasn’t him. but somehow, when i uttered my prayer, his name came to my lips as he came to my mind and heart. so i prayed for him as a companion.
i tell you today, prayers work.
be careful.
a year later, i bade him farewell as he crossed the gates at the Airport to cross thousands of miles to get to another shore where a new life awaited him. i remember that on the night before he left, i touched his face as i lay beside him and i felt my heart breaking. i didn’t know why and i didn’t dare to cry. i remember on the way back from the airport that night, the cab driver insisted on staying on one mandarin station that had a woman’s melancholic, hauntingly sorrowful voice singing about the last time she met her lover.
it did turn out to be the last time i was with him.
my love walked through the gates of Changi Airport and he disappeared again.
i banged hard on Heaven’s gates and demanded to know why God answered a prayer that he knew would end up in heartbreak and tears.
six years later, he returned to me… at a time when i didn’t foresee it and at a stage in my life when i couldn’t accommodate anyone with me. i had a new job, working as a servant on a big vineyard, a job that occupies all my time and leaves me feeling vulnerable and empowered all at the same time. but i felt that i needed someone, a physical partner.
i had someone in mind. and i rang for God (we had made up) and asked if he might send me someone. i knew that God probably had someone in store for me and i didn’t have to worry about where i was going to find time to meet people, spending all my time sweating in the vineyard. He will provide.
but the first prayer i sincerely made for someone to be my companion in the last two years was uttered. i thought it might be the Apostle. it turned out not to be. it turned out to be him. the boy whom i didn’t know and fell in love with when i was in college.
i tell you today, prayers work.
my memory returns to those moments when i knelt at Novena pews begging for God to take my pain away after he left. i remember trying to bargain with God and conceding that, fine, take him away for NOW so we can grow individually but please to return him to me after we have had our fair share of experiences.
i tell you again… prayers work.
