The Barefoot Journey Home

Two were bound for Emmaus,   Disheartened and lost,   All their hope for the future had been nailed to a cross,   Love unknown then, walked beside them,   Come back from the dead,   And they knew he was risen, in the breaking of bread.  - Bob Hurd Today's gospel on the two disciples on the road to Emmaus needs no introduction to most of us, and it speaks of the joy of the disciples upon seeing the risen Lord. However, on the contrary, we are told in the gospel today that the disciples were downcast, disheartened and lost, when they were walking to Emmaus. We are told in the gospel, “They stopped short, their faces downcast.”   And why were they disheartened? Well the song, and the gospel tells us, that their hope for the future had been nailed to a cross. Their hope had died. And the reason why they were so upset about this was probably because of what they believed in, their own unique and personal beliefs. They personally believed that Jesus was a good ma

One of the stories about St. Francis of Assisi which always stood out to me was when a fellow brother was observing him while he was in prayer, and Francis prayed these very simple but profound words: “Who are you, Lord my God? And who am I?” Francis prayed these words because he was starting to get confused about who God was to him, and who he was. In his early days, Francis Bernadone always stood out being the biggest party animal in town. He was throwing parties almost every night, and he was even known as the King of Song. He was often seen serenading the prettiest girls in Assisi, and his ambition was to become a knight. In modern day context, this would be likened to wanting to join the special forces in the Army, perhaps the Commandos, or the NDU, for recognition. However, when Francis was going out to battle, the voice of the Lord spoke to him and asked him to return home. He did this, and for awhile, Francis was his old self when he returned home. He was p

One more candle to light the world One more voice to sing praise Every child that's born to the world Is given the light of faith If everyone joined hands in a circle And passed that little light around There'd be a huge fireball streaking across the sky And darkness would flee at the sight of love - Sight of Love, Corinne May The Easter Vigil has always been the high point of my experience of the Easter Triddum, ever since I was a young altar server. It was the Mass that I looked forward to the most in my younger days, especially because of the “after-party” that we had as servers. We’d spend the night in Church, supposedly to sleep over so that we could be ready to serve the morning Masses on Easter Sunday, but sleep was probably the last thing we did! Those were the days. A profound part of the Easter Vigil liturgy is the Service of Light. Here, the Church is complete darkness and silence, as we quietly await the resurrection. The only source of light is the bonfire w

Every year, the Church seems to go into an extremely pious mode on this day, Good Friday. We seem to go into this mode where we all feel so sorry for Jesus, our sweet Jesus, who is all good, but was cruelly and unjustly tortured, beaten, mocked, and finally killed in the most painful and shameful way possible; the cross. For some of us, we see little reason to celebrate. And yet, Good Friday is still called Good Friday. Why is it even Good? Is there any reason to celebrate? The liturgy for Good Friday does seem to suggest a somber mode. The service begins with the Altar being bare. There are no decorations, the tabernacle is emptied, the cross and the various icons of saints are covered. The priests come in and prostrate themselves before the altar, while the rest of us kneel, and all this signifies that everything on this day has been given up to God.  However, when we come to the reading of the passion narrative, we'd notice that the Church specifically chooses the p

Once upon a Thursday night, A supper did renew my life Once upon a garden prayer, cried "My Solitude is nigh now..." A couple of years ago, on Holy Thursday, I came across this very moving song. This song is called the Song of John, and it speaks of how a simple supper began the renewal of our lives. We have just entered into the three most Holy days in our liturgical calendar. This is what we have been preparing for throughout the 40 days of Lent, by means of fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. These three days are one celebration, and they celebrate the full mystery of Christ. The passion, the death, and the resurrection. It is truly a great celebration. This great celebration begins on a Thursday night with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, where he institutes the great mystery that we celebrate every Sunday, the Eucharist. In this meal, he gives us the very gift of himself as food, his true presence.   Most of us know the story of the Passover, which in f

When I used to visit my late grandfather, he often spoke to me about the homily that was preached at the 50th Wedding Anniversary Mass for my grandparents. The priest preached about stubbornness, and how it was a wonderful thing that they had chosen to be stubborn throughout the course of their lives. Sounds strange doesn't it? Well, the point that the priest was trying to make is that it was wonderful that throughout their marriage, my grandparents, who we call Boompa and Nana, chose to be stubborn to the ways of the world, which tells us that if we aren't happy in a marriage, or in fact with anything, the best thing to do would be to walk away. Instead, they chose to remain committed to one another, to their faith, and to our family, despite the problems which they encountered. They knew that marriage is a sacrament, a lifelong commitment. They knew that it wouldn't be easy, and they embraced all the challenges of married life and stuck to each other through thick and t