Liberation is a praxis: the action and reflection of [people] upon their world in order to...Read More
Jan 6, 2020 | Liturgy |
Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. While we remember the visit of the Magi, I am struck by the very end of our Gospel reading: “And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.” The Magi have an encounter with God Incarnate—and then leave. I wonder what encountering the divine means for those of us who cannot leave our circumstances. I think of my family in Hong Kong who have been living in a state of heightened social unrest for the past seven months.Read More
Christmas is the celebration of a birth. But a Christmas Jesus is a clean baby wrapped up in cloths, not a sticky one emerging from Mary’s body. Why is that? Is it our discomfort with our bodies, and in particular, women’s bodies (trans or cis)? The strangeness of the incarnation, this mixing of divine and human, that we don’t want to recognize? I’m not entirely sure. But I know that this Christmas, I want to see birth. I want to see a woman’s body intermingled with the divine. I want to see a record of the pain that comes before the joy.Read More
“Dear God, just give me a sign!”
It’s a common cry, in the popular imagination: an exasperated plea for a clear indication of God’s presence, assurance, favor, and guidance. Who wouldn’t want a sign from the Divine? Particularly during the Christmas season!Read More
A few weeks ago I returned to Malaysia to visit family, and – lo and behold! – discovered that my mom had planted three coconut trees in the front yard. The coconuts require lots of tender, loving care, demanding precise amounts of fertilizing for a few years before it can bear fruit, before we can enjoy cooling, sweet, fresh coconut!Read More
I bought myself a pineapple in December.
Without thinking, plunked it in the basket.
It wasn’t on sale.
It wasn’t particularly colorful
It was mostly unripe—
Bright green, like bamboo,
With a foreshadowing of yellow.Read More
I grew up with what I called a wannabe “white savior complex,” also known as, “model minority.” My parents were saved by missionaries during the Khmer Rouge. I grew up seeing missionaries as my heroes and decided at the age of18, I would do such. My naïve pride expected me to teach the little Cambodian children English and guide them to Christ. I didn’t realize the injustice I was perpetuating by repeating the message I was taught that “Look at me! God brought me here to bring you salvation and you need to prevent your sins from my teaching.” Halfway through that “mission” trip, I ended up mistaking my homesickness by looking down at the others.Read More
Photo by Wayne de Klerk on Unsplash A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch...Read More