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The auction was closing, but one item remained unwanted.
It was fierce competition with buyers competing to outbid each other for everything that was on offer. They eagerly snapped up all the items and the auction was closing up except for one single item—an old violin.
Keen to find a buyer, the auctioneer held the string instrument in his hands and offered what he thought was an attractive price: “If anyone is interested, I would sell it for $100.”
A deathly hush filled the room.
As it became apparent that even that price was not enough to convince anyone to buy the old violin, he reduced the price to $80, then $50, and finally, in desperation, to $20. After another bout of silence, an old gentleman who sat at the back asked: “May I have a look at the violin, please?” The auctioneer, relieved that someone was showing interest in the old violin, conceded. At least the stringed instrument faced the prospect of finding a new owner and home.
A Maestro’s Touch
The old man rose from his seat at the back, slowly walked to the front, and carefully examined the old violin. Taking out his handkerchief, he dusted the surface and gently tuned each string until, one by one, they were in the right tones.
Finally, and only then, did he place the old violin between his chin and left shoulder, lift the bow with his right hand, and start playing a piece of music. Each musical note from the old violin penetrated the silence in the room and danced delightfully in the air. It stunned everyone, and they listened attentively to what was coming out of the instrument in the hands of what was obvious to all—a maestro.
He played a familiar classical hymn. The melody was so beautiful that it quickly enchanted everyone at the auction and they were awestruck. They had never heard of or even witnessed anyone playing music so beautifully, let alone on an old violin. And they never thought for one moment it would catch their fancy later on when the auction resumed.
He finished playing and calmly returned the violin to the auctioneer. Before the auctioneer could even ask everyone in the room if they would still like to buy it, there was a rush in the raising of hands. Everyone suddenly wanted it after the impromptu masterly performance. From an unwanted item a short while earlier, the old violin was suddenly the focus of the most intense bidding competition of the auction. From the starting bid of $20, the price immediately shot up to $500. The old violin was ultimately sold for $10,000, which was 500 times more than its lowest asking price.
Astounding Transformation
It took only 15 minutes for the old violin to be transformed from something nobody wanted into the star of the auction. And it took a maestro musician to tune up its strings and play a wonderful melody. He showed that what looked unattractive on the outside was actually a beautiful and priceless soul inside the instrument.
Perhaps, like the old violin, our lives normally do not seem to have much worth at first. But if we hand them over to Jesus, who is the maestro above all maestros, then He will be able to play beautiful songs through us and their melodies will stun listeners even more. Our lives, then, will catch the world’s attention. Everyone would then want to listen to the music that He produces out of our lives.
The story of this old violin reminds me of my own story. I was metaphorically just like that old violin and nobody thought that I would be useful or could be doing something worthwhile with my life. They looked at me as if I had no value. However, Jesus took pity on me. He turned around, looked at me, and asked me: “Peter, what do you want to do with your life?” I said: “Master, where do you live?” “Come and see,” Jesus answered. So I came and saw where He lived, and stayed with Him. On the past 16th of July, I celebrated the 30th anniversary of my priesthood ordination. To know and experience Jesus’ great love for me…how could I thank Him enough? He has turned the old violin into something new and given it great value.
Lord, may our lives become Your musical instrument, like that old violin, so that we may produce beautiful music people can sing forever, giving thanks and praise to Your wonderful love.
'You may have a million reasons to say ‘no’ to a possible good deed, but are those really valid?
I sat in my van waiting for my daughter to finish her horseback riding lesson. At the farm where she rides, there are horses, sheep, goats, bunnies, and lots of barn cats.
I got distracted from watching my daughter when I noticed a boy leading a newly sheared lamb back to its pen. Suddenly, the animal decided it did not want to go to the pasture and plopped down right there in the pathway.
Try as he may, the boy could not get the lamb to move (a full-grown sheep is not little, weighing on average over 100 pounds). He pulled on the leash. He went behind the lamb and tried to push on the rear end. He attempted to lift it up from under its belly. He even tried reasoning with the sheep, talking to it, promising to give it a treat if it would just follow him. Still, the lamb lay in the middle of the trail.
I smiled and thought to myself: “I am that lamb!”
How often do I refuse to go where the Lord is trying to lead me?
Sometimes, I am afraid to do what Jesus is asking of me. It is out of my comfort zone. Someone may not like me if I speak the Truth; it might offend them. Am I even qualified for the task? Fear prevents me from fulfilling God’s incredible plan for me.
Other times, I am too tired or downright lazy. Helping others takes time, time that I had planned to do something else—something I wanted to do. There are times when I feel that I do not have the energy to volunteer for one more thing. Sadly, I refuse to give a little more of myself. Selfishness prevents me from gaining the graces God is sending me.
I am not sure why that lamb stopped moving forward. Was it afraid? Or tired? Or just plain lazy? I don’t know. Eventually, the little shepherd was able to coax his lamb into moving again and got it to the green pastures where it could safely lie down.
Like the shepherd boy, Jesus pokes and prods me, but in my stubbornness, I refuse to move. How sad! I am missing out on opportunities, perhaps even miracles. Truly, there is nothing to fear, for Jesus promised He’d be with me (Psalms 23:4). When Jesus asks something of me, “there is nothing I lack” (Psalms 23:1), not time nor energy. If I do get tired: “He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul.” (Psalms 23:2,3) Jesus is my Good Shepherd.
Lord, forgive me. Help me to always follow You wherever You may lead me. I trust that You know what is best for me. You are my Good Shepherd. Amen.
'It’s easy to be caught up in the ordinary and lose sight of purpose. Donna reminds us why we should hold on.
I used to think that if ever I made a serious spiritual commitment and embarked on a discerned path toward holiness, every day would be filled with holy moments, and everything I encountered, ‘even adversities, would be considered all joy.’ (James 1:2) But the spiritual life, indeed, life in general, isn’t quite like that.
About ten years ago, I became an oblate of Saint Benedict. At the outset of my oblation, as my prayer life deepened, and my ministries became more fruitful, the possibilities of Christian perfection seemed endless.
But the temptation to judge others unfavorably by comparison began to nip at my heels. When family members outrightly rejected some of the fundamental teachings of the Catholic Church, I felt rejected by extension. When a fellow oblate questioned my public witness in support of the sanctity of life—didn’t I know that hearts and minds have only ever been changed through unconditional love, not veiled criticism?—I felt like a Pharisee holding my sign.
Holy Meteors…
Alas, while I never doubted my decision to become an oblate, the realization of my basic unworthiness deflated my spirits. How I longed to rediscover that heady sense of interior freedom and joyful buoyancy, arising from the belief that my Catholic faith, lived out under the guidance of the Rule of Saint Benedict, could move mountains. Ironically, the wisdom of a 20th-century rabbi helped me find the way by pointing to the time-tested directive: “Remember why you started!”
In Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, Jewish pastor Abraham J. Heschel suggests that faith is not some constant state of fervent belief, but rather a loyalty to the moments when we had such ardent faith. In effect, ‘I believe’ means ‘I remember.’
Likening holy moments to ‘meteors’ that flare up quickly and then disappear from sight, yet “ignite a light which will never be extinguished,” Heschel exhorts believers “to guard forever the echo which once burst upon the deep recesses of your soul.” Most of us can recall experiencing these ‘shooting stars’ at significant moments in our faith life, when we felt high and lifted up, touched by God’s glory.
My Shooting Star Moments
My first such memory occurred at age seven when I saw Michelangelo’s Pieta at the New York World’s Fair. Though I had made my first Holy Communion earlier that year, the beauty of the white marble sculpture of the Blessed Virgin with the lifeless body of Jesus in her lap, set against a celestial backdrop of midnight blue, struck me with a deeper awareness of His—and Mary’s—profound sacrifice and love for me than reciting the catechism ever had. The next time I received Jesus in the Eucharist, I did so with greater understanding and reverence.
Another transformative moment happened at a ballroom dance class! Christ, after all, is Lord of the Dance in the hymn of the same name. In the writings of Catholic monastic Thomas Merton, God is the ‘Dancer’ who invites each of us to join Him in a ‘cosmic dance’ to achieve true union. (The Modern Spirituality Series). When the instructor partnered with me to demonstrate the foxtrot, I nervously joked that I had two left feet, yet he simply said: “Follow me.” After my initial stumble, he immediately pulled me in so that I didn’t have the space to falter. For the next few minutes, as I was effortlessly gliding throughout the room in his wake, swinging and swaying to Frank Sinatra singing Fly Me To The Moon, I implicitly knew what it would be like to be in step with God’s will– exhilarating!
Christ had His Moments too!
In Scripture, God clearly creates moments of transcendence to strengthen our faith in times of trial—the Transfiguration of the Lord is a prime example. The memory of Christ manifested in all His dazzling glory certainly provided the disciples with a necessary contrast to the horror and shame of His ignominious death on the Cross. It also imparts a hopeful vision of our future glory ‘come what may.’ Surely the memory of His Father’s words: “This is my Beloved Son; with Him I am well pleased; listen to Him!” (Matthew 17:5) sustained and comforted the human Jesus from Gethsemane to Calvary.
Indeed, ‘Remembrance’ is a preeminent theme in the Passion narrative. When Jesus instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, He established the most consequential Memorial of all time and eternity—the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. When Jesus on the Cross promised to remember in Paradise, the good thief who validated Him on earth, the world sighed with relief. That is why Saint Benedict’s reminder to ‘Never despair of God’s mercy’ is his Rule’s final and most fundamental spiritual tool. For though we, like the good thief, know ourselves to be deeply flawed, still we can be confident that Christ will remember us because we remember Him—in other words, we believe!
For a perfect life on earth does not exist. Yet there are perfect, glowing moments, set among ordinary—often trying—moments, that illuminate our path, ‘gliding’ our steps to Heaven, where we will ‘play among the stars.’
Until then, let us love in remembrance of Him!
'I remember a childhood story in which God, about to destroy Earth because of humanity’s wrongdoing, looked down, saw the lilies of the field praying for mankind, and extended the end of time.
It was my wife’s desire to attend daily Mass that led us to the nearby Carmelite Monastery. I was immediately struck by the pervasive stillness and a sense of tranquility. Through the grilled gates, these nuns looked like God’s lilies on earth.
As I was introduced to their daily life, I was surprised to learn that the sisters make vestments, altar breads, and greeting cards. They even stitch their own habits, grow their own fruits and vegetables, and look after the other elderly sisters. Most of the day is spent in silence, which helps them to open up to the Lord and pray. The sisters even meet up twice a day to talk and share.
The power of prayer and its impact dawned upon me. The Church has a rich tradition of prayer, through which we deeply connect with God, whether it’s through attending Mass, reciting the Rosary, or simply taking a few moments to reflect on God’s presence in our lives.
The experience of visiting the Carmelite Monastery was truly humbling. It helped me reflect on the power of prayer and the importance of dedicating one’s life to serving others, and left me with a sense of peace and renewed faith.
'It is not easy to predict whether you will be successful, wealthy or famous, but one thing’s for sure– death awaits you at the end.
A fair bit of my time these days is taken up practicing the art of dying. I must say, I am enjoying every moment of this exercise, at least ever since I have come to the realization that I have entered the heavy end of the scales of time.
I am well and truly into and past the three score years and ten, and so I begin to think seriously: what positive preparations have I put in place for the inevitability of my demise? How stainless a life am I living? Is my life as free as possible from sin, especially the sins of the flesh? Is my ultimate aim saving my immortal soul from eternal damnation?
God, in His mercy, has allowed me ‘extra time’ in this game of life, in order for me to get my affairs (especially spiritual affairs) in order before I go over the top and into the shadows of the valley of death. I had a lifetime-plus to sort these out, but like many, I neglected the most important things in life, preferring to foolishly search for more wealth, security, and instant gratification. I can’t say I’m anywhere near successful in my endeavors as the distractions of life continue to plague me, despite my senior age. This constant conflict is ever so annoying and tormenting, yet when one can still be tempted, such wasted emotions are so futile.
Escaping the Inevitable
Despite my Catholic upbringing and its urging to embrace and look forward to the inevitable tap on the shoulder from God’s ‘Angel of Death,’ I’m still anticipating that letter from the King congratulating me on reaching ‘the big zero.’ Of course, like many in my age bracket, I am reaching out to stave off the inevitable by embracing any incentive to help prolong my earthly existence with medicines, hygiene, diet, or by whatever means possible.
Death is inevitable for everyone, even for the Pope, our loveable Aunt Beatrice, and royalty. But the longer we escape the inevitable, the more that glimmer of hope beams forth ever so faintly in our psyche—that we can push the envelope, put one more puff of breath into that balloon, extending it to its very outer utmost boundary. I suppose, in a way, that may even be the answer to successfully stretching the death date—that positiveness, that resistance to immortality. I have always thought, if I can avoid unjustifiable taxes by whatever means, then why not try avoiding the other certainty, death?
Saint Augustine refers to death as: “the debt that must be paid.” Archbishop Anthony Fisher adds on: “When it comes to death, modernity is into tax evasion, so also is our present-day culture in denial about ageing, frailty, and death.”
The same goes for fitness gyms. I counted just last week, five such establishments in our relatively small community, in the outer western suburb of Sydney. This frantic desire to be fit and healthy is in itself noble and commendable, providing we don’t take it too seriously as it may affect every aspect of our lives to its detriment. And sometimes, it can and does lead to narcissism. We should be confident in our ability and talents but keep in sight the virtue of humility that keeps us grounded to reality, so that we don’t wander too far from God’s guidelines for normality.
To the Fullest Degree
We even try to tame ageing and death, so they occur on our own terms through cosmetic and medical excesses, cryopreservation, illegally stolen organs for transplants, or the most diabolical way of trying to beat natural death by the act of Euthanasia…as if there aren’t enough mishaps that take our lives prematurely.
Still, most people dread the thought of death. It can be paralyzing, bewildering, and depressing, because it will be the end of our earthly life, but it simply takes a mustard seed of faith to change all those ‘end of the world’ feelings and open up a whole new vista of hope, joy, pleasurable anticipation, and happiness.
With faith in an afterlife with God and all that it entails, death is simply a necessary door that must be opened for us to take part in all the promises of Heaven. What a guarantee, given by our Almighty God, that through the belief in His son Jesus and living a life based on His instructions, after death comes life-life to the fullest degree. And so, we can confidently ask the question: “Oh death, where is thy victory, death where is thy sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)
Smidgeon of Faith
When entering the great unknown, trepidation is to be expected, but contrary to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, who said: “Death was the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns,” we who have been blessedly endowed with the gift of faith have been shown the evidence that some souls have returned from the bowels of death to give witness to that misinformation.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that death is a consequence of sin. The Church’s Magisterium, as authentic interpreter of the affirmations of Scripture and Tradition, teaches that death entered the world on account of man’s sin. “Even though man’s nature is mortal, God had destined him not to die. Death was therefore contrary to the plans of God the Creator and entered the world as a consequence of sin.” The Book of Wisdom confirms this. “God did not make death, and He does not delight in the death of the living. He created everything so that it might continue to exist and everything He created is wholesome and good.” (Wisdom 1: 13-14, 1 Corinthians 15:21, Romans 6:21-23)
Without genuine faith, death seems like annihilation. Therefore, search out faith because that is what alters the idea of death to the hope of life. If the faith you possess isn’t strong enough to overcome the fear of death, then make haste to strengthen that smidgeon of faith into a full-blown belief in Him Who is Life, for after all, what is at stake is your Eternal Life. So, let’s not leave things too much to chance.
Have a safe journey, see you on the other side!
'We are all looking for ‘immersive’ experiences, but what of the ultimate experience we have been freely given?
During the Worldwide Developers Conference in California, Apple introduced its Vision Pro headset, a head-mounted device resembling oversized swimming goggles. Essentially, it functions as a comprehensive computer, smartphone, and home theatre, incorporating virtual reality, augmented reality, and mixed reality technologies. Many consider this product to be the future of smartphones. With the Vision Pro headset, users can control their visual experience, actions, and even thoughts using voice commands and hand and finger gestures in the air.
My brain popped. Imagine the possibilities! But could the use of this headset raise concerns about increased social isolation and a decline in shared experiences? For instance, if it replaces the traditional cinema room with large televisions where families not only watch something together but also bond with each other, wouldn’t this technology endanger core human connections? But what if there is an immersive experience that does not destroy the experience of communion?
Getting Connected
Have you ever considered that when we receive the Blessed Sacrament, God is giving us the most amazing immersive experience ever? By creating us in His image and likeness, God gifted us with His desire for shared experience and union. In its fullness, this is a desire for union with God Himself. As the psalmist writes: “As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God.” (Psalm 42: 1-2) However, our contemporary culture has perverted this longing into an obsession with sex, power, money, and belongings. Sin has corrupted our desire for holistic union.
Jesus expresses His longing for communion with us when He tells the apostles: “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you…” (Luke 22:15). He desired to be in communion with us so much, that He commanded us to eat and drink Him–to be so united with Him that our bodies are commingled. The Eucharist is not a one-man show. It is a shared experience of a community around the table sharing one cup and one bread. Participation is its core.
Richard Hooker, a theologian writes that ‘participation’ refers to the reciprocal and intimate connection between Christ and believers where Christ holds us, and we hold Christ. In this bond, there is a sense of sharing one another through a unique relationship, shared interests, and a profound union.
Christ is truly present in the bread and wine, and it is radical faith. If we believe Christ is present universally, why would it be hard to believe that he is truly present in the consecrated host and wine? This presence is designed for intimate communion by eating and drinking. As we leave the church, we carry His presence into the world. Then, as we pour out ourselves in service to others, we draw them into His presence.
'Something made me stand still that day…and everything changed.
I was about to start my rosary group at the nursing home where I work as a pastoral care practitioner when I noticed 93-year-old Norman sitting in the chapel alone, looking forlorn. His Parkinson’s tremors seemed quite pronounced.
I joined him and asked how he was doing. With a defeated shrug of his shoulders, he muttered something in Italian and became quite tearful. I knew that he was not in a good place. The body language was very familiar to me. I had seen it in my dad a few months before he died—the frustration, sadness, loneliness, angst of ‘why do I have to continue living like this,’ physical pain evident from the furrowed head and glassy eyes…
I became emotional and could not speak for a few moments. In silence, I put my hand on his shoulders, assuring him that I was there with him.
A Whole New World
It was morning tea time. I knew that by the time he manages to shuffle to the dining room, he would miss the tea service. So, I offered to make him a cuppa. In my minimal Italian, I was able to discern his preferences.
At the nearby staff kitchen, I made him a cup of tea, with milk and sugar. I cautioned him that it was quite hot. He smiled, indicating that’s how he liked it. I stirred the drink many times as I did not want him to get scalded, and when we both felt it was the right temperature, I offered it to him. Because of his Parkinson’s, he could not hold the cup steady. I assured him that I would hold the cup; with mine and his trembling hand, he sipped the tea, smiling so delightfully as if it was the best drink he ever had in his lifetime. He finished every single drop! His shaking soon stopped, and he sat up, more alert. With his distinguished smile, he exclaimed: “Gracias!” He even joined the other residents who soon ambled to the chapel, and he stayed on for the Rosary.
It was only a cup of tea, yet it meant the whole world to him—not only to quench a physical thirst but also an emotional hunger!
Reminiscent
While helping him drink his cuppa, I remembered my dad. The times he enjoyed the meals we had together without rushing, sitting with him at his favorite spot on the sofa as he struggled with his cancer pains, joining him in his bed listening to his favorite music, watching healing Masses together online…
What drew me to meet Norman at his need that morning? Surely it was not my weak and carnal nature. My plan was to set up the chapel quickly as I was running late. I had a task to accomplish.
What made me stand still? It was Jesus, who enthroned His grace and mercy in my heart to respond to the needs of someone. At that moment, I realized the profoundness of Saint Paul’s teaching: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” (Galatians 2:20)
I wonder when I reach Norman’s age and I long for a cappuccino, ‘with almond milk, half strength, extra hot,’ will someone make one for me with such mercy and grace too?
'Rani Maria Vattalil was born on 29 January 1954 to Eleeswa and Paily Vattalil in a small village called Pulluvazhy, in Kerala, India. From a young age, she was brought up in the Christian faith, having love for the poor. She attended daily Mass and led family prayers. During the final year of high school, Rani felt the Lord calling her to consecrated life and entered the Franciscan Clarist Congregation in 1972. It was Rani Maria’s ardent desire to do missionary work in North India and serve the poor, even if it cost her life. She was sent to Madhya Pradesh (a central Indian state) and served several mission areas there.
Sister Rani Maria was given the responsibility of coordinating the social apostolate of the local diocese. She organized various educational programs for children and young people and worked relentlessly to empower the indigenous people. She understood how the poor, illiterate farmers were exploited and taken advantage of by their landlords. So, she educated them on their rights, helped them fight for justice, and spoke for those who were unjustly imprisoned. All this infuriated the upperclass landlords, who threatened her with dire consequences if she continued supporting the cause of the poor. But Rani Maria feared nothing and did not back down from her mission to ‘love her neighbor.’ A devious plan was then hatched by those who hated her.
On 25th February 1995, while traveling by bus, she was mercilessly stabbed 54 times by Samundhar Singh—a man hired by the landlords. She breathed her last, repeating the Holy name of Jesus. Rani Maria worked her entire life to fight for the dignity and rights of her fellow men and bore witness to the Gospel through her social activities. Sister Rani Maria’s family, following the valiant example of their daughter, forgave her murderer wholeheartedly, even inviting him to their home! This act of mercy touched him deeply; he repented of his heinous crime and became a changed man.
Sister Rani Maria was beatified by Pope Francis on 4th November 2017.
'I approached Him for success in my studies, but He didn’t stop there…
During my high school years, I experienced a remarkable journey of faith and academic growth. As a devout Catholic, I firmly believed that God’s presence was constantly with me, especially when it came to my studies.
I remember one particular semester, I was facing a daunting load of exams and assignments. The subjects seemed to pile up, and I felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information I needed to grasp. Doubt started to creep into my mind, making me question my abilities.
In those moments of uncertainty, I turned to prayer as my source of solace and guidance. Each evening, I would retreat to my room, light a candle, and kneel before my crucifix. I poured my heart out to God, expressing my fears and doubts while asking for strength, wisdom, and clarity in my studies.
An Invisible Guide
As the weeks went by, I noticed something extraordinary happening. Whenever I encountered a challenging topic or struggled with a difficult concept, I would find unexpected clarity. It was as if a light was being shone upon my path, illuminating the way forward. I would stumble upon helpful resources or passages in books that perfectly explain complex ideas, or receive unexpected support from classmates and teachers.
I started to realize that these were not mere coincidences but rather, the signs of God’s presence and help in my academic journey. It was as if He was guiding me, gently nudging me towards the right resources, the right people, and the right mindset.
As I continued to trust in God’s guidance, my confidence grew, and my grades began to improve. I noticed a marked difference in my ability to absorb information and comprehend complex concepts. I was no longer studying alone; I had an unseen companion by my side, guiding me through every challenge and encouraging me to persevere.
But it wasn’t just about the grades. Through this experience, I learned valuable lessons about faith and trust. I learned that God’s help was not limited to spiritual matters but extended to every aspect of our lives, including our studies. I learned that when we turn to God with sincere hearts, He not only hears our prayers but also provides the support we need.
Keeping Connected
This journey taught me the importance of maintaining a strong connection with God, seeking His guidance, and trusting in His plan. It reminds me that true success is not measured solely by academic achievements but also by the growth of character, resilience, and faith.
Looking back, I am grateful for the challenges I faced during that semester, as they deepened my relationship with God and strengthened my conviction in His unfailing assistance. Today, as I continue my academic pursuits, I carry the lessons learned during that time, knowing that God’s divine guidance will always be there to lead me on the path to knowledge and fulfillment. In a world where academic pressures can often consume us, it is essential to remember that we are not alone in our journey.
As Catholics, we have the privilege of seeking God’s guidance and finding solace in His presence all the time. Through this personal story, I hope to inspire others to trust in God’s unwavering support, not only in their studies but in every aspect of their lives. May we all find comfort in knowing that God is our ultimate teacher, guiding us toward wisdom, understanding, and unshakeable faith.
'A repeated whisper from above, numerous failed attempts…all solved by a children’s story!
There is a wonderful tale by Hans Christian Andersen entitled The Steadfast Tin Soldier that I have taken immense pleasure in reading aloud to my daughter, and she, in listening to it. This one-legged tin soldier’s brief existence is marked by tribulation after tribulation. From falling from several storeys to nearly drowning to being swallowed by a fish like Jonah, the handicapped fighter comes to understand suffering quite quickly. Through it all, though, he does not hesitate, falter, or flinch. Oh, to be like the tin soldier!
Discovering the Reason
Literalists and pessimists might attribute his steadfastness to the fact that he is made of tin. Those who appreciate metaphor will say it is because he has a deep knowledge of his identity. He is a soldier, and soldiers do not let fear or anything, for that matter, steer them from their course. The trials wash over the tin soldier, but he remains unchanged. At times, he admits that if he were not a soldier, he would do such and such—like shed tears—but those things he did not do, for it would not be in line with who he was. In the end, he is cast into a stove where, reminiscent of Saint Joan of Arc, he is engulfed in flames. His remains are later found by the housemaid, reduced to—or one might say, transformed into—a perfectly shaped tin heart. Yes, the fires that he so resolutely endured molded him into love!
Perhaps, all that is required to become steadfast is to know one’s identity? The question then is, what is our identity? I am, and you are, too, a daughter (or son) of the King of the Universe. If only we know and never cease to claim this identity, we too can be steadfast on the journey toward becoming like Love Himself. If we go about our days knowing that we are princesses and princes gallivanting about our Father’s castle, what would we fear? What would make us quake, turn back, or crumble? No falls or floods or flames could make us step aside from the path toward sainthood that has been so lovingly laid before us. We are beloved children of God, destined to become saints if we only stay the course. The trials will become joys because they will not pull us from our path but, if endured well, will ultimately transform us into that which we long to be! Our hope and joy can always remain, for even if all about us is hardship, we are still beloved, chosen, and made to be with the Father in Heaven for all eternity.
Sorrows into Joy!
When the Angel Gabriel, on his mission to receive Mary’s fiat, sees Mary’s fear, he tells her: “Do not be afraid, for you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1:30) What glorious news! And how glorious that we, too, have found favor with God! He made us, loves us, and desires for us to be with Him always. So, we, like Mary, need not be afraid, no matter what difficulty comes our way. Mary steadfastly accepted all that came her way, knowing that His Providence is perfect and that the salvation of all mankind was at hand. She stood at the foot of the Cross in the moments of her greatest suffering and remained. In the end, though Mary’s heart was pierced by many swords, she was assumed into Heaven and crowned Queen of Heaven and Earth, to be with Love forever. Her steadfastness and loving endurance through suffering paved the way to her Queenship.
Yes, the sorrow of the Pieta became the glory of the Assumption. The martyrdom of so many holy men and women made them a part of the Heavenly host praising the Lord forevermore. Like our Mother and the Saints, may we accept the grace to be steadfast, standing tall amidst sorrow, flames, and all other circumstances that try to divert us from the Lord’s open arms. May we be firmly rooted in our identity as children made in the Father’s image. May we, like the renowned poet Tennyson once wrote: “Be strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!” May we, after it all, become like Love.
'Keep your ears open to nature’s faintest impulses…God is speaking to you all the time.
God is constantly trying to communicate His message of love to us—in small things, in big things, in everything. Sometimes through the busyness of life, we can often miss what He is trying to say to us, both in the moment and after. Our loving God yearns for us to come to Him in the silence of our hearts. It is there that we can truly encounter Him and begin to grow in our relationship with Him—by listening to the “good teacher” (Luke 18:19; John 13:13). Saint Teresa of Calcutta taught: “God speaks in the silence of our hearts.” Scripture teaches us too, that it was only after the strong wind, earthquake, and fire had disappeared that Elijah was able to hear and understand God through the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:9-18).
The Power that Moves Us
Recently, I went with my niece to a beach in North Wales; we wanted to fly a kite together. As the sea was going out, we unravelled the string on the sand. I threw the kite in the air as my niece set off running as fast as she could, holding the handle. The beach was partially enclosed by cliffs, so in spite of a strong wind on the waves, the kite did not stay in the air very long. She set off running again, this time even faster, and we tried again and again. After a few attempts, we realised that this wasn’t working.
I looked around and saw that to the top part of the cliffs, there was an open field and a lot of land. So together, we climbed higher. As we began to unravel the string again, the kite began to move; my niece tightly held on to the handle. Before we knew it, the kite was fully extended and flying so high. The beauty of it this time was that we were both able to really enjoy this moment together with minimal effort. The key was the wind, but the power of the soaring kite was actualized in getting to a place where the wind could really blow. The joy, laughter, fun, and love shared in that moment were priceless. Time seemed to stand still.
Learning to Fly High
Later as I prayed, these memories came back to me, and I felt I was being taught powerful lessons in faith, specifically about prayer. In life, we can try to do things with our own strength. There is something in our fallen human nature about wanting to be in control. It is like being at the steering wheel in a car. We can trust God and allow Him to guide us, or we can exercise our free will. God allows us to take hold of the wheel if and when we choose to. But as we journey with Him, we see in fact, that He desires for us to not try and do it all on our own. He doesn’t want to do it all by Himself either. God desires for us to do everything—through Him, with Him, and in Him.
The very act of praying is a gift in itself, but it requires our cooperation. It is a response to His call, but the choice to respond is ours. Saint Augustine powerfully teaches us to “acknowledge our voice in Him and His in us” (CCC 2616). This is not just true for prayer but for everything in life.
True, Jesus sometimes allows us to labor “all night” and “catch nothing.” But this brings us to the realisation that it is only through His guidance that we will achieve what we desire. And infinitely more when we open our hearts to listen to Him. (Luke 5:1-11)
If we are to fly high, we need the wind of the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, which transforms and lifts us up (John 20:22). Wasn’t it the wind of the Holy Spirit that descended upon the fearful disciples in the upper room at Pentecost and transformed them into faith-filled, fearless preachers and witnesses of Christ (Acts 1-2)?
Seeking with a Whole Heart
It is essential to recognize that faith is a gift that we must hold on tight to (1 Corinthians 12:4-11). Otherwise, we can become tangled up in difficult situations in the world that, without His grace, can be impossible for us to be free of. We must continue to reach higher heights through the power of the Holy Spirit—to “seek the Lord and live” (Amos 5:4, 6). Saint Paul exhorts us to “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)
Therefore, the call is for each believer to enter deeper into prayer by creating the space for silence, removing all distractions and blocks, and then allowing the wind of the Holy Spirit to really blow and move in our lives. God Himself invites us to this encounter with the promise that He will answer: “Call to me, and I will answer you and will tell you great and hidden things which you have not known.” (Jeremiah 33:3)
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