My Christmas Musings

I have not blogged for some 3 weeks now but it's not because I haven't had much to write about. On the contrary, so many things are happening that I'm literally spoilt for choice..... However, I think I shall let those thoughts stay afloat somewhere while I draw upon Christmas celebrated in a Catholic church.

To me, Christmas has evolved over the years at different phases of my life. As a teenager, it was about parties, presents and meeting people. As a young adult, it was about more parties, more presents and meeting more people. Then in the 90s, attending Christmas musicals, Christmas dramas, Singing-Christmas-Trees and hyped up Christmas services became the rage for any believer worth his salt. But sadly, none of these brought Christ into Christmas for me.

This year, I attended my first Christmas Eve Mass as a Catholic. As with all Masses, it was a liturgical celebration and solemn in its own right. There were no techni-colour musical drama, no special effects and no charismatic preacher jumping up and down to make his point. In other words, no frills.

But the church was packed to the gills with nary a standing room. People came 2 hours early to await the celebration of our Lord's birth. Why would people wait up to 2 hours for an hour's Mass without fanfare? What is it about the Catholic celebration that draws parishioners even without the aplomb?

Day of Obligation aside, I believe it's because Christ is revered as the centre of the Mass. He is the focus of our celebration; not the choir, not the drama, not the songs, not the church decorations and not even the preacher.

The homily of this particular Christmas Eve Mass strikes a chord with me. It talks about how Jesus is born 5 times during the Mass. Firstly in the placing of the symbolic baby in the crib, secondly in the exaltation of the songs, thirdly in the gospel reading, fourthly in the transubstantiation of the bread and wine, finally and most importantly, in our partaking of the Eucharist. Taking the bread which has become the body of Christ is truly God's grace for us to live in communion with Him and our neighbour. We thus bring Jesus away to our home, our workplace and into our relationship with the world.

I would not call myself 'godly' by any standards. No, not by a long shot. I still have a very long way on this straight and narrow path. I have fallen many times. I have given in to temptations at the drop of a hat. I have hurt others either wittingly or unwittingly. I have failed myself and God all too often.

But I am comforted that I can take Jesus away with me through this Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. It is a grace bestowed upon us freely and abundantly........one which we do not deserve but receive only because of love.

And that, to me, is the reason of Christmas.

Hazing at JC

My colleague's daughter has been accepted into a prestigious JC of her choice. While the mood at home has been celebratory, the mother is now worried about the culture at junior colleges after the fiasco of hazing at ACJC.

Maybe I'm really getting older....or perhaps youngsters these days are really taking it to the max. A popular student at her JC, this girl was hazed & ragged on her birthday by friends who threw cake, milk and water at her face; followed by a birthday song. Duh??

Eons ago, I was just as bright-eyed and enthusiastic to embrace JC life as it signified 'coming-of-age' and breaking away from highly structured secondary school life. Stressful it might be academically; the independence, freedom and wide array of activities could really bowl one over.

For a 'sua-ku' like me, JC life really opened a world of fun moments in school with friends and even teachers. I remember my teachers as friends and had lunch with them occasionally. The best part was that we were old enough to be treated like young adults but young enough to get away with most pranks..........definitely more interesting than life in the university.

There was an incident which, as I recall now, am awfully glad did not take place. I shudder to imagine the implications and consequences if we had gone ahead with our ill-conceived plan that night.

An active committee member of my school's Interact Club, we organised a lot of intercollegiate events among the participating JCs and sometimes with the Rotary Club. My school had to play host to one such event, a 2-day camp at our school compound one weekend. Touted as a teambuilding activity, it was an overnight stay with Interact Club members and teachers from CJC and ACJC as well.

You can imagine the ruckus and brouhaha created by a bunch of active, exuberant, fun-loving teenagers - not from 1 JC but 3! It was generally good, clean and youthful fun. Teachers who facilitated the event did not have much to worry about; until night fell and part of the agenda was to visit a cemetery.....

Many students were raring to go but some of us had our reservations. Yes, I was very worried because it just did not seem right. But I was a teenager then, eager to fit in and belong; never wanting to seem a prude. Did I raise my objections? No, I just kept quiet and hoped God would be with us!

By His grace, we did not go through with the plan. For that, I heaved a sigh of relief that night. Now, after so many years and knowing all the possible implications, I really thank God for his hand on this bunch of naive teenagers even then. To this day, I still feel the sting of being a coward.

Being a JC student is indeed fun but one has to know his limits. Throwing a surprise birthday party is great but to subject the person to such pranks is contradicting the word 'celebrate'. In a birthday context, 'celebrate' means to make merry, toast, hold festivities so the person feels happy.

From the article and pictures, the girl was neither laughing nor enjoying it. I think it is a celebration taken too far. And this opinion is coming from someone who had thoroughly enjoyed her JC life.

Books I used to love and books I now love...

An avid reader, I read at every possible opportunity and occasion. There will always be a book on my desk, in my bag or in my hand.

I used to love legal thrillers and have read all of John Grisham's works from legal to suspense to psychological genres. My favourite has to be 'The Firm' but it's not because Tom Cruise acted in its movie version. No sir, definitely not!

'The Firm' is my first John Grisham book; I came across it while in the States back in '92 when it just emerged fresh from the publisher's oven. I fell in love with Grisham's writing style and sharp insight into the legal world. As they say..............the rest is history.

I think we can all identify with the plot of being caught in a situation where everything seems too good and dandy to be true. When the crunch comes and we are caught between a rock and the deep blue sea....what do we do then? Do we take the easy way out or do we take the courageous way? Stifle your conscience or face the music and be true to yourself?

I also loved books by Joy Fielding and Sandra Brown. Women authors, it has been said, possess a more intuitive approach to women protagonists. They are able to draw upon their own lives, perspectives and weave their characters much like themselves with a myriad of underlying emotions and motivations.

But since my RCIA journey, I've stopped reading. For starters, I could not find the time to read. Secondly, I began to instinctively stay away from these works whose plots are choked full of malice, violence and deception.

My priest recommended us this book "Introduction to the Devout Life" by St Francis De Sales. Not one to read self-help books, biographies or non-fiction literature, I was however, hooked by this book from the first page! Written in the 16th century, this spiritual classic is so precise, compassionate, straightforward and modern, it seems to be speaking to me here and now!

Just recently, I also came across this book "A friend like Henry" by Nuala Gardner. It is a remarkable true story of how a boy and his family, lost in the world of severe autism saw the silver lining at their dark cloud when Henry, a golden retriever entered their lives. It is an inspiration how his parents never gave up trying to draw him into their world despite the challenges.....And all this happened in the 80s when autism was not widely recognised or accepted even in the western world.

Because I work with children, this book is very dear to me. We are seeing more children with autism these days because "mainstreaming" or 'inclusion" is encouraged for children who are high functioning and moderately social.

I'm taking my time with this book because it is so special. I believe all early childhood educators and parents should read it.

Compassion

I learned a lesson on compassion today.

Today is the day our local banking giant releases the dreaded news on who stays and who goes. I have been on tenterhooks for my girlfriend whom I have known for just over 10 months. I have always known that she's a great person - pretty, zany, sincere and God-loving. But I did not know that she has a heart of gold too.

Through our email correspondence, she shares that she is not on the retrenchment list but her unit's despatch guy will have to leave. Under the tense situation, I had expected her to heave a sigh of relief and move on.

But no, she asks rhetorically why it must be this guy to leave when he has a family and young children to feed? She would rather she got the axe because she is young and resilient; notwithstanding that her wedding is just next year and the bills are meanwhile mounting.

We all know why the despatch is asked to leave. He has worked with the bank for merely a year and he is at the lowest of the food chain. But would his leaving make any difference to the bank's bottom line?

What if pay cut is exercised instead? Can they make do with a little less and help others keep their jobs?? A pay cut for some of these guys might mean the difference between a Cartier watch and a Guess watch for Christmas but for lower level folks, getting the axe literally means the difference between food and starvation for the family.

While I thank God for answering my prayer that my friend gets to keep her job, I'm also thankful that he has also shown me what a truly beautiful friend I have. Through her, I learned that compassion comes from the heart. And like Roald Dahl, I too value kindness above all other qualities in life.

The Americans Have Decided

History is made today.

My girlfriend, who exercised her first voting rights in this presidential election, is estastic. A Singapore girl married to a New Yorker, she had contemplated moving back to Singapore with her family in tow had McCain won instead.

Obama is now the 44th president of United States. He has broken the ultimate race barrier to become the first African-American to hold the highest office in the land. But what strikes me most about him is not his race, although that has been played out in virtually every media coverage or report about the election.

To me, he stands for the courage to dream and believe. From humble beginnings and a dysfunctional family..........yes dysfunctional, President-elect Obama has shown us that nothing is impossible when you believe. As a student in Jakarta, he was asked to write an essay titled "My dream: What I want to be in the future". He had written "I want to be a president". Check out the link here

While I do not agree with all of his positions, I believe America might be happy to finally see the change they have been waiting for. Like my girlfriend and her family.

Sparky

In Genesis, we learn that "God made wild animals in their own species, and cattle in theirs, and every creature that crawls along the earth in its own species. God saw that it was good." (Gen 1:25)

Sparky is one God's creation I love dearly. A Pembroke Welsh Corgi , Sparky must know that his breed is well-loved by the Queen! He's hardy, intelligent, obedient and protective companion of our family with an attitude to boot!! But we love him all the same :0)

I dare say I'm his favourite person at home. From the porch, he gets all excited when he sees me coming home. Before I can even open the gate properly, he'll be up on his two hind legs to give me his dog-hugs. He follows me around the house until I tell him to 'cool it' sometimes. Yes, yes.....he's typically male and loves girls!

He's no angel though. He has been known to tear my shoes to shreds! It was especially heart-breaking when my favourite pair with the dainty ribbons was chewed to smithereens...... Sigh! But I saw it as character building as I grappled with throttling him or learning to put my shoes where they belong - high on the shelves.

That aside, he calms me. When things get hectic in life, I like to sit at the porch with him and simply do nothing. He stays quietly by my side when I coach my son's work. He snuggles up to me when I say my prayers or read the papers.

He asks nothing of me except to be loved.

Infant Baptism

I helped out at an infant baptism yesterday. It brought back many wonderful memories to see excited parents and godparents lovingly holding their babies over the baptismal font as the celebrant baptised these young ones.

Travel back 9 years, I was in exactly the same shoes as these parents. I was not a Catholic then but as I held my 3-month-old infant out for the water of life, I knew in my heart that it would be the best thing I could do for him.

My son is now an active young man who has his own views and often engages me with them. He can be a handful sometimes and that's when my blood pressure soars to 200 degrees - on a good day. Growing up in this digital world can be very challenging for both the parents and the child.

Developmental psychologists and early childhood experts all agree that the first 6 years are the most critical in a child's formation - physically, intellectually, emotionally and socially. I would go further with a quote from my parish priest that it is even more important spiritually to have a firm and God-centered formation during these crucial early years. Truly...if you could only give your child one thing in life, let it be Jesus.

How a child lives his faith from his day of baptism is largely dependent on his parents and godparents. I am glad to be involved in this beautiful sacrament and pray that these parents will bring up their children in God's ways.

Meetings

I dread meetings at organisational level, especially those that span the entire day and attempt to ram information by the bus loads. I had one such meeting yesterday and came away feeling worse for wear….

The agenda:
a) Financial Update by the Finance guys
b) Operations Issues by Ops Department
c) New HR Initiatives by HR Team
d) Enrichment Programmes’ Presentation
e) Any Other Matters

f) Questions, questions, answers, answers.....

By the time we ended at 7.00pm, I was totally drained. How can corporations make their meetings less information-focused but more interactive and thus, more effective?

I was a Foreign Worker

Someone jokingly asked why I've been writing about the plight of foreign workers. Are you trying to champion their cause? Be the spokesperson for those whose voices are never heard?

Eh, actually no. I didn't start out with such noble intentions.... I just felt burdened to share my thoughts because I've been deeply inspired by the article in CatholicNews. Also, it's because I had once been a "foreign worker".......not in the true sense of the word as we Singaporeans know it; but the plight was synonymous, albeit under a different set of work environment, industry and remuneration package.

I was a flight attendant with an American airline back in the 90s. Based in Singapore, we were known as RFAs (Regional Flight Attendants). As the name implied, we primarily flew the regional routes - Hong Kong, Taiwan, Philippines, Japan, Korea and China. The reason for this domicile was to capitalise on our language abilities to serve the Asia-Pacific routes and their customers.

Although our parent company was essentially American, we were able to inject the Asian hospitality and creativity onboard our Singapore flights. It was an ideal marriage between the American culture of freedom, friendliness and the Asian grace onboard. However, the only glitch (and a major one at that) was that the disparity between the US-based crew (American Flight Attendant or AFA) and their Asian counterparts soon became more apparent.

We were all formally trained at our US headquarters. Everyone had to pass the same stringent course, emergency training and work on observation flights to qualify for our first solo flight. It did not matter that some Singapore crew performed better; our employment terms, staff welfare and the perks were distinctively different.

For starters, the uniforms were coloured differently. So were the wings. And those were only the tip of the iceberg. We were neither unionised by the Americans nor locally. Our travelling perks and availability of seats were subject to seniority staff numbers and of course, the AFAs always had priority over the RFAs. When the crunch came in the form of economic downturn, fuel price hike and scaling back, the regional domiciles would be the first to close.

No wonder so many of our RFAs applied to be AFA and be based in Hong Kong instead. I understand how companies work and am not questioning their policies. In fact, our national carrier would do the same to its worldwide offices if it needs to downsize. Always trim the outer fats first.

Because of my airline experience, I can empathise with these foreign workers. I believe they deserve the same humanity treatment as everyone else. Since when did they become lesser beings?

In George Orwell's satirical novel "Animal Farm", the animals who overthrew humans had Seven Commandments which included a general credo "All animals are equal". But over time, the credo was changed to "All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others" because the pigs had started to take charge and take on many human traits.

This poignant sentence has stayed with me through the years "The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which."

Are we more equal than these foreign workers in our midst?

"Help, jobless foreign workers cry"

Imagine coughing up S$8000 or more for the opportunity to eke out a living in a foreign land. Imagine the sum of money is in exchange for everything we have; the bottoming out of all our earthly possessions or livelihood. Imagine the promise of a job that commands S$900 per month to feed the 12 mouths at home. Imagine the risk taken; the faith in making it in a stable and law-abiding country. A land that is economically viable with good governance and menial jobs aplenty.

But why did dozens of out-of-work foreign workers turn up at MOM on Wednesday to seek help (ST 9 Oct 08)? How could they enter Singapore with valid work permits but end up with no work? Duped by "agents", some have been here since February or April with no more than 2 weeks' work. Others are less fortunate; they have not worked a single day since setting foot on our shores.

As a result, they roam the streets in Serangoon Road or simply hang around in deluded optimism, waiting for a chance to start work. They have been exploited and abused by unscrupulous agents without any avenue for recourse. An MOM officer had asked these workers to go to their 'boss, rather than MOM to ask for work. "If you have worked but have not been paid, that is something you can come to us for," she said'

And we are afraid that they will get into mischief and disturb our way of life. Whose life has been uprooted and left hanging now? Who is in deep debts, even depraved poverty if there are no jobs soon? When push comes to shove, these foreign workers might really dabble in shenanigans and crimes out of pure despair and desperation.

Shepherds of the Flock

I've been musing over an article in Sunday Times (5 Oct 08) "Church pastors like none other" - featuring how 2 pastors started their mega churches from humble beginnings. How these churches have in their own right, spun off multi-million businesses and how their flock has grown to a staggering 5-digit congregation.

Wow.

Back in my teens and 20's, I had been active in one of these non-denominational churches. It had been fun while it lasted. Those were the days before Facebook, MSN, SMS and email communication. Meeting up was the main avenue for interaction and networking. We received as good as we gave. The fellowship was intense and relatively healthy. Most importantly, it passed mom's censor because I was with church folks.

Beyond the weekly Sunday service, Tuesday cell group, Saturday youth group and lots of fellowship activities, I was still me. The fault's all mine, I must concede. "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." I had neither asked; nor sought; much less knocked.

Sure, I had accepted Christ into my heart, believed in the immense love of God, in the risen saviour and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Especially in the power of the Holy Spirit. It was in fact, the spiritual presence, exhilarating music and energetic preaching that roused the congregation each Sunday. The charismatic renewal, the dynamic sermons and the vivacity of the preachers all culminated in a powerful uplifting of the physical and spiritual realms.

I have no axe to grind with such worship or sermon delivery styles. To quote from the article, these churches do "strike a chord with church-goers today". Even Catholic churches have very powerful and inspirational charismatic masses. Catholics are blessed with the gift of tongues too. For indeed, God must be worshipped "in spirit and in truth" - with one heart, one mind, one soul and in harmony with His Holy Word.

While I acknowledge and respect the said pastors for their dynamism, I believe that shepherds of the faith should have their eyes on the cross and their hearts on the ground. Jesus was a carpenter. He wore sandals and lived simply while on earth. Should his servants live better than he did? No, serving God does not equate to wearing rags or eating crumbs but it does require a certain form of discipline and sacrifice.

It is not a call everyone can answer to.

Foreign Workers in Serangoon Gardens

Serangoon Gardens.

Nestled amidst lush greenery and exuding old-world charm, it is an estate known for its laid-back tranquility, private residences, good food and quaint shop houses. It embodies a town stuck in the 70s; never quite catching up with urbanisation like the rest of the island. Never intending to, it seems. Quite happy to remain a self-sufficient little nook until it is thrust into the spotlight with its furore against housing foreign workers in an unused school compound.

Are the residents wrong in wanting to protect their homes and way of life? It is very natural to reject anything intrusive. Having a thousand foreign workers right there in the heart of this idyllic enclave does seem intrusive enough. But are the residents truly so wrong?

Conversely, are the foreign workers wrong to leave everything behind and try to eke out a living here? To be rejected before they set foot in the estate; to be petitioned against; to be perceived as trouble-makers; to be looked upon upon. Among them, I'm sure there are literate ones who are educated enough but chose menial labour here because of lack of opportunities back home. They are those who read the papers and who care about issues in society like you and me.

Both groups are not fundamentally wrong. Cicero says it very well "to each his own'. But can they co-exist peacefully? If the proposal becomes a reality, what then? A flurry of moving out, greater protestations and even street demonstrations?

An article in CatholicNews (Sept 28, 2008) by Fr Luke Fong touched me deeply. It says "Do not be afraid of foreign workers in the neighbourhood". It goes on to evoke our conscience with a heart-tugging hypothetical scenario: "

At the end of life, we find ourselves at heaven's door. Jesus comes to meet us. We are so glad to see him. We have waited for this moment all our lives. But then he says: "Remember, I wanted to live just 100 metres from your house, but you wanted me to live in Tuas and Choa Chu Kang. You were more concerned with the value of your property than your humanity. I gave you the opportunity to love me in the strangers from Myanmar, India, China and Thailand. But you rejected it and chose instead to go on annual foreign missions and to give generous financial donations on Mission Sunday. You came to the Adoration Room weekly to get close to me and yet when I wanted to sit next to you on Bus 317, you refused me."

How often have we tried to do grand and visible things God's name but forget the suffering in our own backyard? Have we forgotten that a foreign worker is also someone's son, someone's brother, someone's father? When it rains, he feels the cold. When the sun's out, he feels the warmth. When pricked with a needle, he bleeds.

When denied and rejected, he bleeds too. In his heart this time and the wounds might never heal.

First Entry

When a person sets up a blog, how should he pen his first entry? His past leading up to date of the blog or right here, right now?

Should this be a memoir or a journal? Or perhaps a collection of reflections and thoughts that do not belong to any one moment. Events can be chronologically tagged to a specific point or period in time but thoughts stay with you forever..........

Let me just start from the present with references and reminiscence to the past. Shall we?