The gentle and the humble

I often wonder why Jesus (and God the Father) is obsessed with the poor, the afflicted, the outcast and the helpless, as though they were God's favourites.

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus claims that He is "gentle and humble in heart" (Mt 11:29), fulfilling Prophet Zachariah's prophesy that the coming King was someone who is "humble and riding on a donkey" (Zech 9:9). This could be the key to unlock the mystery of God's obsession with the poor and the afflicted: because they bear the image of Jesus.

In their poverty and hopelessness, they are just like empty vessels ready to be filled. They attract God.

Only those who have been hungry could appreciate the little food that is set before them.

Only those who are thirsty could savour every single drop of water offered them.

Only those who have nothing would accept any amount of money given them.

Only those who are tired desire and appreciate a good rest.

Only those who have struggled with a heavy burden would gladly exchange it for a lighter one.

Only those who acknowledge their nothingness and are willing to learn and be corrected, are the ones who would receive and grow in self-knowledge and God-knowledge (truth).

Such is the value of humility. True humility. "Humility is the mother of all virtues" (Mother Teresa of Calcutta).

When we acknowledge our weaknesses and our need for God's mercy and grace (that's humility!), we turn our heart towards God and His will. It is then that we lay down the worldly yoke and put on Jesus'.

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14th Sunday in Ordinary Time | 5 July 2020

The journey up

It has begun.

The sacrifices, the entirely new environment, the unfamiliar territories, the many heartbreaks - all the consequences of stepping out of the comfort zone and moving into the unknown deep, are coming true, just as I've imagined and anticipated. The only difference is, the thoughts of them was easier to bear than having to face them - alone.

The walk on the flat plain had been such a breeze. Now, it's time to climb the slope. I began to realise that the easy walk, though did enhance my spiritual stamina, it did not quite help with the muscles. It is such a difficult climb, especially when I'm all alone. Worse still, the scenery has nothing worth beholding - shrubs, trees, branches, buttress roots, rocks and boulders - these made the climb such a challenge. I have to stop all so often to allow the sore muscles to recover, take a little rest, read the guidelines and marks left behind by the saints, pluck up enough courage through Hope, then continue to make another few steps forward before the whole cycle begins again. As a matter of fact, I'm taking much longer rests than the climb!

Every day I'm struggling with dying to self. I'm so used to taking care of me, myself and I. And now that there is the other person whom I have pledged my life to, it's never easy to put myself last. Things could have been a little easier had he shared the same love for God and the Church.

Such is my life since the last four months. Not having a community to belong to, and with the lockdown in place due to the Coronavirus pandemic, life is just painfully dry and unfulfilling. The mundane day-to-day routine is beginning to bore me.

I wonder if this is the beginning of the Dark Night St John of the Cross speaks about. I'm being deprived of almost everything I've always enjoyed. Even prayer becomes such a drudgery. I haven't received much consolation. God seems to be silent.

But I love the Lord too much to give Him up. If it wasn't for Him, I wouldn't be willing to choose this path. It was a decision I struggled to make - for I knew the consequences of this choice. I'm willing to risk it all, as long as He is faithful to His promise of Eternal Life with Him, which is the only Hope I hold on to.

So first thing first: staying rooted to the faith and love. Thanks to the kind Malaysian Carmelite friar Fr Sinwee, I'm allowed to follow the online study classes conducted by him. That has certainly helped me to live out my Carmelite identity in the absence of a community.

My messy desk

After a little reflection on my current situation, the discomfort I'm experiencing could be a good sign after all. For the Doctor of the Church, St Teresa of Jesus is said to have commented, that "Life is a night spent in an uncomfortable inn." It is true that we should not seek comfort in this life, for our only comfort lies in God alone.

Praying that with every few steps up the mount, my muscles would be stronger, my stamina further strengthened, to be ready when the steeper slopes emerge.