Our Evening Visitor
A chirpy bird descends on even the gloomiest of us, stuck indoors amidst a raging pandemic, with something of the blessing of a fine day. So it is with the oriental magpie-robin, our evening visitor.
For the past two years or so that we know him, he has been touching base around seven o’clock. Till date he hasn't arrived beyond 7.17 p.m. We make it a point to retire by the time of the Angelus prayer and let him come into our veranda at ease. Soon our feathered friend drifts down from the dark sky, greeting our household with a melodious chirp just a few syllables long. Is that merely to announce his arrival? No. It feels more like a polite request for permission to stay the night.
Night after night it’s the same pleasant story. The gentle bird settles on the clothes drying rack, at the very same point, and there’s not a sound from him thereafter.
Once we spotted him flying out, almost certainly with a quick goodbye chirp, a few minutes after four… perhaps to bathe in the morning dew, before getting on with the day’s work….
Will he ever hullo us at our place of work?! Maybe he did fly across to us sometime in the past, but in our usual hullabaloo we might well have overlooked the visitation…
In these grim times, as we humbly reach out to help Nature heal, we wish to be a little more hospitable and offer our honoured guest food and water. But we are no experts: could someone advise us on the protocol?
Tailpiece: Today, as we find ourselves practically under house arrest, in view of the COVID-19 pandemic, the birds in the sky come across as particularly carefree. We finally understand the full import of the Scriptural passage: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” (Mt 6: 26)
Love in the time of Covid-19 - and always
LENT 2020 – Day 24
Hos 14, 1-9; Ps 80, 6-c-8a, 8b-9,10-11,14,16b; Mk 12, 28-34
Inscrutable are the ways of the Lord God maker of all things.... Like the people of Israel who lived in the midst of fear and anxiety, we too are in the midst of a great scare; and like them, who thought they were masters of their own destiny, we have for too long lived as though God does not exist – until now when the infinitesimally small corona virus has taught us a lesson in powerlessness.
We'd stumbled when we said “Our God” to the work of our hands; we’re now responding to God’s call to return to Him. Haven’t we realized already that we can do with a little less work, money, power and, above all, pride? We must set our priorities right. We can’t do without prayer, thanksgiving and praise to Him who is our Lord and Master, our Creator and Saviour. For His part, He has promised to heal our faithlessness, continue to love us, and be to us like the dew to Israel.
There are marvellous things in store, only if we stop and listen, dialogue, accept, love... Then we shall blossom. Meanwhile, let’s admit that we’ve been worshipping a fake trinity – Mammon, Bacchus and Cupid. Mind you, like the wife who watches her husband, so is our God watching us, and saying: “The Lord is one; and you shall love the Lord your God will all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength…. You shall love your neighbour as yourself.”
Very often we think we won’t understand God’s ways; but if we care to listen, we will. Now is that time to listen. In this lock-down let’s open our hearts and rekindle our relationship with our God and our family – and set the big wide world afire with our love….
The Place to Celebrate Christmas
Have you ever wondered about the best place to celebrate Christmas?
In my growing years I would often hear overseas relatives sing the praises of Christmas celebrations in Europe; it made me feel that something was amiss in Goa. And last Sunday, Zelia, a plump and contented lady, sixty-plus, living in a suburb of Lisbon, boomed in the churchyard, ‘Here it doesn’t feel like Christmas at all. Back home, you will find shop windows decorated by now, and people rushing about their Christmas shopping.’
No feelings of inadequacy on my part this time round. If that is what she feels, so be it, I thought, and it took me back twenty years to my own reservations about Lent in the Portuguese capital. I remember saying then to Mario el mexicano, a university pal and churchgoer, ‘Back home, we have the Way of the Cross from our city church perched on a hillock to the Archbishop’s Palace on another hilltop. It’s unmistakable; it really makes one feel it is Lent.’
People are entitled to their individual feelings, aren’t they? And God can touch the core of our being in any situation we may be. Ours is not a rectilinear world; and like the heavenly bodies we can go in curves, yet reach the destination the Creator has planned for us. After all, whatever our weaknesses – to quote Yeats, the Irish bard – He who is wrapped in purple robes, with planets in His care, ha[s] pity even on the least of things asleep upon a chair….
But for our part it is better not to lose sight of the Ultimate Reality. At Christmas, the crib, the star, the tree and the lights – however beautiful; the carols – howsoever melodious; the sweets, no matter how delicious – and the little joys they all afford us – should not be an end in themselves.
Rather, our crib and star competitions could help us promote healthy relationships; our tall and intensely decorated trees, to gaze heavenward; the shiny decorative lights we display in our homes, to reflect the state of our souls; the carols we sing, to foster peace, goodwill and harmony among us mortals; and all the eats and drinks that we prepare could well be an expression of the profound joy and love we share with our family and friends.
And what shall we say about the ever-present Santa Claus and his gifts?
A few days ago, a young television journalist interviewing passers-by in the street came up to me, thundering with great expectation, ‘Sir, tell us what Santa Claus means to you and your children!’ And perhaps to her surprise, I said, nonchalantly, ‘Very little.’
Santa Claus means very little to me and my family. This is one institution that has almost become an end in itself – hardly a reminder of the good old St Nicholas, and of Jesus Christ, alas, none at all! Santa has not sanctified but altogether commercialized and secularized Christmas. How I wish Santa had not sought to turn this feast of extreme tenderness, extremely banal.
We cannot let the Christmas mystery turn banal. No doubt, Jesus was born in a humble stable, into a poor family. Simple shepherds were the first witnesses to this event. But – as the Catechism of the Catholic Church points out – ‘in this poverty heaven’s glory was made manifest.’ And the Church never tires of singing the glory of this night:
The Virgin today brings into the world the Eternal
And the earth offers a cave to the Inaccessible.
The Angels and shepherds praise him
And the magi advance with the star,
For you are born for us,
Little Child, God eternal!
This verse from Kontakion of Romanos the Melodist sums up that Mystery-in-swaddling-clothes. And, as the Catechism further remarks, ‘from the swaddling clothes of his birth to the vinegar of his Passion and the shroud of his Resurrection, everything in Jesus’ life was a sign of his mystery’ – a mystery that certainly calls for deep contemplation.
It is of supreme importance, particularly to contemporary man, to note that the Christmas mystery is richer than the richest of shop windows. And we needn’t go to the ends of the Earth to realize this: When we participate in the Mass this day, with a pure and contrite heart, we will come upon the experience like a benediction. Then we shall see that our hearts are the best Crib for the Little Child, God eternal, to be born in and also the best place to celebrate Christmas!
(Published as Editorial, The Stella Maris Bulletin, December 2008; and reprinted by Herald, 22 December 2008, and Renovação, 1-15 January 2009)