May is coming up. May is usually the busiest month of the year for me. For some strange reason unbeknownst to me, a pattern has been established such that it is the “peak” of the year in terms of my ministerial activity. And after May, things gradually begin to slow down or settle into a more steady rhythm for the rest of the year (albeit not quite so soon as I’m making it sound). And then in December, everything will come to a standstill – or at least, I make sure it does.

I’m now in the midst of preparing two sermons and a course curriculum in Contextual Theology, whilst also trying to find as much time as I can to recuperate as I’ve been rather unwell recently.

To most people, I look more like a “part-time minister” of sorts because of the itinerant nature of my work. So there’s hardly one point of time when I’m seen working for eight straight hours within a single environment. And yet the more I evaluate the magnitude of my work assignments, the more it seems like I have more than a fulltime job – no kidding.

One major thing that’s on the backlog (well, it has actually been on the backlog for several years now!) is my doctoral thesis. The good news is, I’ve recently submitted my fifth chapter, and this leaves me with the final chapter to work on. Even so, I’ve complete about a third of the final chapter. So I have just about two-thirds of the final chapter to work on. I’m very near completion, and yet the goal doesn’t seem quite as near as I’d like it to be in the light of all the various other assignments I have lined up.

May Day! May Day!

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A political by-election is going on in Malaysia at the moment, in a little town called Ijok. Of this particular by-election, I have nothing much to say other than that seeing campaigning politicians delivering wheel chairs to the disabled and handing out cash assistance to the needy are a common political exercise here.

On a more general note, it somewhat captures my attention – in political elections – that the campaigning parties consisting of ruling governments usually possess the publicity capacity. They never fail to get their messages across through the various media at their disposal: the newspapers, the television, the radio, and the internet, among other possible avenues of publicity.

On the other hand, the publicity messages and endeavours of the competing parties and candidates are usually all too easily thwarted. They never get to really say things they want to say, and mistakes they make in speech and action are speedily amplified, and their credibility eroded thereby. They’re projected as the pathetically miserable people who’re fighting a losing battle and who can’t deliver (usually, they’re not allowed the opportune privilege to deliver anyway).

Now… before we become too quick to pass the political arena off as a corrupt and dishonest engagement, let’s consider the possibility that perhaps all of life is a political arena. And perhaps, the politics of a nation are just a heightened hyperbolic representation of what happens in the everyday life of its people.

Think about it: isn’t it true that our social engagements are all about power and dominance? The powerful have access to various forms of communication, for they have the social influence and the wealth to sustain the cost of employing these avenues. Their voices are heard. The weak, they have a voice, but too soft and insignificant because it cannot be projected; and no corporate company deems it of any benefit to project these voices except maybe for self-promoting, emotion-appealing, and tax-exempting purposes. So they never truly get to say what they want to say except when their valuable voices are exploitable by the powerful.

This is the way it is with life, isn’t it?

So I wouldn’t so much blame the political entities for playing their political games in such a manner; they’re just playing the game according to societal rules, letting out a bait they know we’d bite.

So go, vote your integrity’s worth.

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This evening, I was having a casual chat with one of my colleagues working in the Academic Office of the seminary I teach in. I never used to be one for small talk (I think I’ve blogged about this before), but of course by now I’ve learned that you never know what small talk might lead to.

To my amazement, this colleague revealed her secret interest to me – she’s interested in the reconciliation of the Chinese Yin and Yang principles with the Christian worldview. This caused my heart to skip a beat. The Chinese Yin and Yang speak of “opposite factors” in the scheme of life. They are not to be understood as opposites in the sense of “good” waging war against “evil”, for neither is morally superior to the other. They are merely opposite forces at work in the processes inherent within the scheme of the universe.

The thing is this – any talk about the Yin and Yang almost immediately brings the well-meaning Christian into a furious negativity about how it’s related to Taoism (or at best, Chinese medicine!) Hardly would anyone dare to venture into the possibility that the principles of the Yin and Yang can be somewhat reconciled with the Christian paradigm of life in the universe. And this is precisely what this colleague of mine finds herself interested in. For her, it’s simply about reconciling one philosophy to another. Whoosh!

The problem that unsuspecting Westerners have about learning Asian philosophies is this – if Westerners talk about their philosophies, Asians most often simply live their philosophy. You cannot “read” Asian philosophy from afar and assume to understand it the way you can read Western philosophy from a distance. To understand Asian philosophy, you’ve simply got to come and live among us for an extended period of time and be one of us – you don’t study Asian philosophy. You catch it by watching the things we do every day and doing those things with us. Geddit?

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There is a joke among English-speaking pastors that Chinese preachers don't preach; they tell stories. But without either of them knowing it, the Chinese preachers may have had the last laugh. In conveying the gospel through story-telling, they have in fact come closer to the biblical narrative tradition than their Western-educated counterparts.

Quoted from: Simon Chan, “Problem and Possibility of an Asian Theological Hermeneutic”, Trinity Theological Journal, Vol. 9, 2000, pp.55-6.

Related Posts:
Telling Tales 1
Telling Tales 2
Telling Tales 3
Telling Tales 4
Telling Tales 5
Telling Tales (Afterthought)

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I was in Singapore yesterday and cruising on the expressway. Right in front of me was a black Mercedes station wagon. The scene looked pretty ordinary. But I think the car was in front of me for far too long, which gave me too much time to notice something ugly…

Each passenger in that car, two adults and two little children, had a proper place to sit in. But the Indonesian domestic helper was put to sit in the trunk of the car! There she was, stashed up together with the luggage and the baby pram in the trunk. I wonder why our society doesn’t so much as see such treatment of foreign domestic helpers as tantamount to a modern version of slavery.

Is there no inherent value in a human person which renders him/her respectable and worthy to be dignified regardless of the nature of his/her work? What is it about domestic helpers that makes people think they’re several classes below other people and deserving of a less human treatment?

That domestic helper in the car trunk… wasn’t she someone’s daughter? In all possibility, she had to leave her family to come to Singapore (and suffer such treatment) to earn a living so she could send her family money each month for their subsistence. How might her employers have felt if their own daughters were to be treated like that by their employers in the future?

There’s nothing wrong with having domestic helpers. It’s a vocation which is extremely dignified and can be embarked upon with much dignity. It’s we who make it look like a job fit for lesser humans. It's we who trade them like commodities.

I’ve visited countless families who have domestic helpers. Until today, I’ve met only two families who invite their domestic helpers to eat with them at their meal tables. The fact that the domestic helpers declined the invitation is immaterial; they’ve been respected and treated as equals anyway. The other families I’ve seen just leave the scraps for their domestic helpers to finish up after the meal. And all this is done right in front of their growing children – through these young eyes, these parents will eventually reap the values they sow.

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Some environments just feel unsafe. Some other environments are unsafe. They are unsafe because they’re guarded by a thousand and one pharisaical minds who gauge everything by rules and regulations, with little or no regard for the only rule that matters: the rule to love.

It is strange how we regulate life in our communities with rules, assuming that when people observe those rules, they keep themselves from “sinning” or doing wrong and therefore do not offend God. I’d understand a need for guiding principles and various guidelines in a community’s “rule of life”. But rules and regulations?

All people within a community can be well observing every policy, every procedure, every rule, and every regulation, and yet flouting that one rule most fundamental to the ontology of community. I believe that when we choose to take the longer route of teaching, showing and modelling love, we might realise after a period of time that there is no need for airtight rules and regulations any longer.

I ‘m not saying it’s the most practical way of dealing with life together. I’m saying it’s the only way if we choose to remain true to the essence of life together. It’s an ideal, yes, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t choose to strive towards its attainment in the present scheme of things.

Afterthought: Some further thoughts several hours later.
It's hazardous to flout the ritual law for the sake of the moral law; you get condemned and punished for it by people who don't understand, who refuse (?) to understand. But by all means, ignore the moral law and fixate yourself on the observance of the ritual law; you will be counted among the righteous of the land. It is sad.

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This is a dispatch from the Junior apprentice. And the following is a reply:

Beloved Junior Apprentice,

It has been such a tediously frustrating and exhausting past week, hasn’t it? I’m hoping that you’ll find a peace within you to slow down in your momentous routines. You have an inclination to rush through life; I see it in the way you drive your vehicle, the way you speak, the way you eat, the way you open and close doors, and the way you get your chores settled. The settlement of these tasks allocated to you by the Order is admirable, but it looks to me like your soul often has a problem catching up with your physical activity. Because your life sometimes seems like one big rush.

I suppose the at this juncture, what you need to hear isn’t so much about the battle we’re engaged in. You’re already fully aware of this battle. But I have on occasions also spoken to you about our life within the Order of the New Kingdom as a dance. It is a dance of life, propelled by the love of the Master, in which he invites you and me to join with him in an inter-penetration of being. Can you almost immediately see that a dance involves a rhythm by which we must live our lives within the purpose of this Order?

What I worry is that you might have often strived so hard to fulfill the requirements of the Order, thinking that this pleases the Master, and in the process forgotten your rhythm. When you live without rhythm, your life loses its artistic value. When your life loses its artistic value, the way you engage in battle looks clumsy and inelegant; and that wouldn’t be very well reflective of life within this impending New Kingdom.

And so, at this moment, my junior apprentice, I have these words to offer to you so you may reflect upon them and allow them to guard the rhythm of your life: watch your step. Do not ever allow yourself be caught in situations where you are found to be loud, rushed, and abrupt. Let your life, your movements, your work, be a magnificent exhibition of graceful splendour.

Keep working well on those goals and tasks set before you, but do it with gracefulness and dance through them with the beautiful rhythm of the Kingdom. Our battle is not a laborious one; it’s a battle that’s already won, remember? Hear the Master keep whispering into the depths of your soul, “Peace, be still”.

Work. But as you do so, know that you are loved.

Yours most affectionally,
Senior Apprentice

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There are times when we can be so utterly sure of a vision to make an impact in the world or to change the state of the church from her present imperfection. And yet, we tread along this path of endeavouring to bring change to the world only to discover that it was our very hearts and lives that God had set his eyes upon all along. To our horror, it was us whom he'd wanted to change before transforming the world.

A vision to impact the world or to bring change in the church invokes a sense of excitement and purpose. But in the same breath, it could also constitute no less than a symptomatic expression of a preoccupation with self-significance. To carry a vision from God could, in the final analysis, after all just be another expression of human vanity. It is as if being the carrier of a divine vision places one on a higher plane of significance than that of other insignificant mortals.

For this reason, it is crucial that God works on the life of the vision-carrier before he entrusts the vision into the hands of the carrier. So that it will transcend a mere gratification of the human hunger for significance and a self-defined purpose that is divinely affiliated. The heart of the vision-carrier needs to be pruned of all self-absorbtion, self-preoccupation, self-preservation, and self-defence. Then only can the sacredness of the divine vision remain untainted in the hands of its carrier. Otherwise, the integrity of the vision itself lies in question.

It is commonly said that one cannot carry a vision unless one was willing to die for it. Perhaps the scheme of God's purpose is such that one cannot carry a vision unless one was already dead to it. Then only can one be sure that the vision is the unreserved possession of God and not one's own to have and to hold. Then only will the sacredness of the vision remain untainted.

When is a man ready to carry a vision inspired of God? When he sees nothing else but the cross. When the cross is so meaningful that even the vision cannot match its significance. One should carry a divinely inspired vision only when the cross is the sole vision one can see.

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"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off." - Mal Pancoast -

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The following is just a very interesting linguistic observation by my very linguistic friend. It should be of interest to those of you for whom English isn't a native or first language.

Link: Tricky Stress

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An entry from my friend:

I am a quiet person, not that I am quiet, rather I would prefer my surrounding to be quiet, especially after a long trying day at work.

And yesterday was such a day. I had a stress filled day at work followed by an equally stressful drive home in torrential rain feeling tired, smelly and hungry.

We settled down to have dinner and my daughter started playing the piano, banging mercilessly on the keys, making any conversation over the dinner table virtually impossible. I endured it for a while, hoping that she would be done with her routine before I finished dinner so I can have some time to chat with my wife, but she went on and on and on.

Finally I asked my wife (or rather shouted above the din) “Hadn’t she practised this afternoon on her piano?”

To which she replied “She isn’t practising, she is PLAYING FOR YOU!!”

And suddenly, as if by magic, noise became music, and the merciless thumping of amateur fingers on Ebony and Ivory became a labour of love and my tiredness left me. :-)

At the end of my dinner, and her repertoire, my girl turned to me and asked “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

Yes I did, very much indeed.

Thank you Darlene.

Simplicities long gone. May our hearts grow into an appreciation of life so deep we do not let the complications of life's music cloud out the intricacies of life's simple tunes.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

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We are our biggest obstacle.

If we don't kill ourselves, we stop ourselves from being bigger than ourselves.

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A restless peace...

A jarring silence...

A disturbing calm...

An abrupt pause...

A gripping stillness...

A confusing clarity...

A resigned surrender...

A blissful melancholy...

An anxious anticipation...

A nagging uncertainty...

A hesitant contemplation...

A fragmented past...

A dissonant present...

A dislocated future...

A wandering introspection...

A crystalised confusion...

A distraught clarity...

A painful healing...

A distant hope...

An infinite grace.

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Link: Holy Friday for Malaysians

To our friends in the West, this article somewhat explains why you'll never be able to truly understand the plethora of paradigmatic confusions we live with and why our theology will never truly be systematic the way you often seem to expect it to be.

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We stand before the cross to gaze at what has been watered by the generous shedding of blood so murderous it has become a tree of life for we who were once dead.

And we keep standing and gazing, for what is there left to say...

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I'm sensing a rising discontentment in the enunciation of Christian theology, particularly by a number of friends from my generation. And I stand with this discontentment. It pertains to the blandness of our theological language.

We say theology is our language of the divine. It is how we express our experience of our relational transactions with God. Hence, theology is beautiful, we say. At the same time, we pack it in a most hideously bizarre way of enunciation. We say things about God in a way that few can even understand, and codify our understanding of him (or lack thereof) in mysterious riddles. We advance claims that God is beautiful and seek to articulate that beauty, but we do it in the most aesthetically estranged ways.

We spew unbecoming propositions like "God is this" and "God is that", and "God is not this" and "God is not that". And the more we speak of God in such terms and in such a language, the more the subject of our description is found repulsive.

When others reject our claims, we say they've rejected the truth. Maybe it's not God or the ones who reject the truth who're the problem; maybe it's our language that's the problem. This may not always be the case, that's true. But nevertheless, it often is the case.

Our language of God is too bombastically brash. It is complex and sophisticated. But perhaps we are confused between sophistication and beauty. Beauty can be found even amidst simplicity of expression.

But things are changing. The aesthetically sensitive people are now beginning to say things about God in a way that reflects the gracefulness of his being. It is captured not merely in the descriptions themselves, but also through the language used.

Maybe, for a change, we should just start telling stories all over again, and cease trying to talk beyond ourselves. Our attempts to enunciate theology in a sophisticated way are simply too clumsy. Perhaps God didn't mean for theology to be articulated that way.

Stories captivate, because they have a capacity to capture our God-talk together with its beauty. And stories don't make God sound too boxy. It's a stark irony when we try to say that God isn't clumsy in such clumsy language. Like this post.

Editor's Note: This is a republication of the post from 21 April 2006.

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