"Still"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
One of my favorite songs as a teenager was Lionel Richie's "Still." May be because it was one among the first songs in English that I could understand well. [Oops.. again, it's a sad song about separation. I don't know what has been taking me these days]. As a teenage boy the title itself said it all, "Still." Especially the way the song ends. It's with a thoughtful pause, after saying "But the most of all, I do love you..." Then the songs concludes emphatically, "...Still...."
Now as I look at this song again (with the help of Google, of course), there are these lines that attract me: "So many dreams that flew away. So many words we didn't say." The combination of those two lines suggest a powerful message. In my own words, I would say, "Failure to say the necessary words makes your dreams remain dreams." Yes, saying it is as important as remaining in silence to listen.
Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, says in his Spiritual Exercises, about the importance of, in Latin, "id quod volo." It's so important to put into words "something that I want." Putting it into words will help the one doing the Spiritual Exercises to have a clearer understanding about his or her deepest desire. Eventually, this will help a lot to clarify his or her life dreams, and to let God keep them always in check. In this way, our dreams are indeed God's dreams. So again, I believe that in spiritual life the same thing applies: "So many dreams that flew away. So many words we didn't say." The good news, God will always say, "...Still..."
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Every Time You Go Away
"Every Time You Go Away"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
January 30, 2012
There's a line in Paul Young's 1984 hit that goes "Every time you go away, you take a piece of me." Well, it's a sad love song with desperate tone. Honestly, I don't really like the whole song either. But that line rings so true. It echoes an old saying, "Good-bye is like a little death." I believe, at several points in my life, I did sing that song in my heart. On the other side, I also believe, that others sang that song in their hearts to me as I was moving along my life's path from one place to another.
As a young priest I once worked as a summer chaplain in a Nuns' Convent in Munich, Germany. During my stay there, my sister's father-in-law passed away of heart attack. The whole family was so devastated. Out of compassion, the Mother Superior handed me a little book in German, "Du bist nicht mere da!" In English, it is "You are no longer there!" How true. Either death or just any good-bye, the core of the pain is just that. Deep in our heart there is that cry. All the high-tech communication gadgets that we have today can't help us to ease the pain. We simply say, "You are no longer there... for me... physically."
It wouldn't be so surprising, that in a way, Jesus has sung that line so so so many times to me, and may be to many of us. But why? Okay, from my side, it's part of just being a fragile and sinful human being. Yet, may be another line in the song can explain better. Is it possible that Jesus also sings to us "May be you're too close to see"? Could it be possible, that since we're too close to Him, we take many things for granted, to a point that we can't no longer see who He really is? I believe it could. Returning to Him at the end means bringing back to Him that "piece."
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
January 30, 2012
There's a line in Paul Young's 1984 hit that goes "Every time you go away, you take a piece of me." Well, it's a sad love song with desperate tone. Honestly, I don't really like the whole song either. But that line rings so true. It echoes an old saying, "Good-bye is like a little death." I believe, at several points in my life, I did sing that song in my heart. On the other side, I also believe, that others sang that song in their hearts to me as I was moving along my life's path from one place to another.
As a young priest I once worked as a summer chaplain in a Nuns' Convent in Munich, Germany. During my stay there, my sister's father-in-law passed away of heart attack. The whole family was so devastated. Out of compassion, the Mother Superior handed me a little book in German, "Du bist nicht mere da!" In English, it is "You are no longer there!" How true. Either death or just any good-bye, the core of the pain is just that. Deep in our heart there is that cry. All the high-tech communication gadgets that we have today can't help us to ease the pain. We simply say, "You are no longer there... for me... physically."
It wouldn't be so surprising, that in a way, Jesus has sung that line so so so many times to me, and may be to many of us. But why? Okay, from my side, it's part of just being a fragile and sinful human being. Yet, may be another line in the song can explain better. Is it possible that Jesus also sings to us "May be you're too close to see"? Could it be possible, that since we're too close to Him, we take many things for granted, to a point that we can't no longer see who He really is? I believe it could. Returning to Him at the end means bringing back to Him that "piece."
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Two Mothers
"Two Mothers"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Sunday, January 29, 2012
I believe, this is one of those privileges in a priest's life. Within a week I was present in two families who were mourning their mothers. Both deaths are painful, since they came without notice. The first one was a mother in her early forties, who had been diagnosed with leukemia two weeks earlier. In an attempt to have a conversation with the younger son, ten years old, I told him that I had just lost my father some six months ago. He replied, quite innocently, yet powerfully honest, "Yeah, but it is easier to loose a father, than to loose a mother." I was speechless.
The second one was an elderly widow in her late seventies, who in the process of recovery from her illness, had caught a serious medical allergy, that really caused her unimaginable pains in the whole body. One of her children, the only boy in the family, a married man with three growing up children, said rather bluntly in his speech, "When our dad passed away, we were sad; but now, when our mother is gone, we are very very sad."
We know that sooner or latter each one of us will die. Yet, it is completely another story when death comes just right there, as if from the middle of nowhere. And on top of that, it is the mothers who have been taken away. God seems to be without guilt in doing this to us. I tried hard to find some reasonable explanations, only to realize that I would never find any. All we can do is just hanging in there, embracing the pain, sharing the memories, while hoping that sooner or later we can stand strong again. Pain and sadness, seen from different angle, is a clear proof that there is that four-lettered gift from God: L-O-V-E.
May you rest in peace as you are now present to us in a new way...
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Sunday, January 29, 2012
I believe, this is one of those privileges in a priest's life. Within a week I was present in two families who were mourning their mothers. Both deaths are painful, since they came without notice. The first one was a mother in her early forties, who had been diagnosed with leukemia two weeks earlier. In an attempt to have a conversation with the younger son, ten years old, I told him that I had just lost my father some six months ago. He replied, quite innocently, yet powerfully honest, "Yeah, but it is easier to loose a father, than to loose a mother." I was speechless.
The second one was an elderly widow in her late seventies, who in the process of recovery from her illness, had caught a serious medical allergy, that really caused her unimaginable pains in the whole body. One of her children, the only boy in the family, a married man with three growing up children, said rather bluntly in his speech, "When our dad passed away, we were sad; but now, when our mother is gone, we are very very sad."
We know that sooner or latter each one of us will die. Yet, it is completely another story when death comes just right there, as if from the middle of nowhere. And on top of that, it is the mothers who have been taken away. God seems to be without guilt in doing this to us. I tried hard to find some reasonable explanations, only to realize that I would never find any. All we can do is just hanging in there, embracing the pain, sharing the memories, while hoping that sooner or later we can stand strong again. Pain and sadness, seen from different angle, is a clear proof that there is that four-lettered gift from God: L-O-V-E.
May you rest in peace as you are now present to us in a new way...
Saturday, January 28, 2012
"It's Their Faults"
"It's Their Faults"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas
I had to say Mass at a nuns' convent nearby. So I had to get up early, after only less than four hours of sleep. Last night other cars in our garage had been parked in such a way that it gave me a hard time to get into my parking space. So after Mass this morning, I had to do some tricky manoeuvres again. I was quite confident when I heard a bump noise. Ooops, my car just scratched our garage wall. You can imagine how mad I was. And guess what, I began to blame those other cars parked around mine.
As a matter of fact, those cars did have their share in the problem. But, I realized that it was hard to accept that I was the one who had made the final mistake. I should have been more careful, and more patient, so that I should have made more manoeuvres. Yes, I didn't want to admit that I made that silly mistake. So I asked our driver to polish my car, and voila, the signs of my fault was gone. It looks shiny as before, spotless, and I was relieved, and got my pride back.
Oh well, it's just a car, and it's just a normal possibility of daily life. Yet, it did not end there. If this is how I react, isn't it also true in my spiritual journey? Yes, it's easy, and sometimes even falsely comforting to tell myself that it's not completely my fault; it's theirs. The lesson from my car is this: "Learn to admit graciously: 'Yes, it's my fault. Period!'"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas
I had to say Mass at a nuns' convent nearby. So I had to get up early, after only less than four hours of sleep. Last night other cars in our garage had been parked in such a way that it gave me a hard time to get into my parking space. So after Mass this morning, I had to do some tricky manoeuvres again. I was quite confident when I heard a bump noise. Ooops, my car just scratched our garage wall. You can imagine how mad I was. And guess what, I began to blame those other cars parked around mine.
As a matter of fact, those cars did have their share in the problem. But, I realized that it was hard to accept that I was the one who had made the final mistake. I should have been more careful, and more patient, so that I should have made more manoeuvres. Yes, I didn't want to admit that I made that silly mistake. So I asked our driver to polish my car, and voila, the signs of my fault was gone. It looks shiny as before, spotless, and I was relieved, and got my pride back.
Oh well, it's just a car, and it's just a normal possibility of daily life. Yet, it did not end there. If this is how I react, isn't it also true in my spiritual journey? Yes, it's easy, and sometimes even falsely comforting to tell myself that it's not completely my fault; it's theirs. The lesson from my car is this: "Learn to admit graciously: 'Yes, it's my fault. Period!'"
Friday, January 27, 2012
It's Only Words
"It's Only Words"
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Friday, January 27, 2012
Another song. This time, it's Bee Gees' "Words." I had heard this song so many times in the past, when suddenly some weeks ago it began to say so much. Relationship is at the heart of the song, and the inner turmoil leads the singer to try to convince the other by saying, "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away." The line before that goes like this: "You think that I don't even mean a single word I say."
I have to admit that sometimes I really get sentimentally romantic. Those lines speak a lot about how important words are in any relationship. A single word, said in a wrong time with a wrong intonation can destroy the relationship. The same is true with a single word that should have been said, but for some reasons not. At the end of the day, the relationship counts merely on renewed trust.
As I think again of this, how true it is with God and me. Many times I don't want to believe that God does mean every single word God says to me. How painful it must be for God to face this reality. However, I believe, God can't stop singing to me, "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away..."
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Friday, January 27, 2012
Another song. This time, it's Bee Gees' "Words." I had heard this song so many times in the past, when suddenly some weeks ago it began to say so much. Relationship is at the heart of the song, and the inner turmoil leads the singer to try to convince the other by saying, "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away." The line before that goes like this: "You think that I don't even mean a single word I say."
I have to admit that sometimes I really get sentimentally romantic. Those lines speak a lot about how important words are in any relationship. A single word, said in a wrong time with a wrong intonation can destroy the relationship. The same is true with a single word that should have been said, but for some reasons not. At the end of the day, the relationship counts merely on renewed trust.
As I think again of this, how true it is with God and me. Many times I don't want to believe that God does mean every single word God says to me. How painful it must be for God to face this reality. However, I believe, God can't stop singing to me, "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away..."
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Hope Whispers
"Hope Whispers"
January 25, 2012
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
It's been a while. My last post was April 2010. That means, almost two years have passed. And here I am, still struggling with many things that have hindered me from pursuing my dream of becoming a faithful blogger.
A very dear someone has just convinced me to listen to Sarah Brightman's "Winter Light." Well, to be honest, to my Indonesian ears, it's hard to get the lyrics right. So, thank God, Google helped me. There I am, struck by this particular part of the song: "Hope whispers and I will follow 'till you love me too!" It catches one of the main ingredients in my spiritual journey. In my eyes and ears, it is God who sings the song for me. I've been too scared to love God and to let God love me to the full.
It brings me back to my early experience of love with God. Started from Jesus' "Do you love Me?" to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength." Oh God, those words... They remind me of the value of hope. But most of all, it is You, God, who still have hope in me, waiting until I love You too.
Yes, hope whispers, and my heart longs to have the courage to follow... By the way, how many of us really have the courage to be loved totally by God...?
January 25, 2012
By Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
It's been a while. My last post was April 2010. That means, almost two years have passed. And here I am, still struggling with many things that have hindered me from pursuing my dream of becoming a faithful blogger.
A very dear someone has just convinced me to listen to Sarah Brightman's "Winter Light." Well, to be honest, to my Indonesian ears, it's hard to get the lyrics right. So, thank God, Google helped me. There I am, struck by this particular part of the song: "Hope whispers and I will follow 'till you love me too!" It catches one of the main ingredients in my spiritual journey. In my eyes and ears, it is God who sings the song for me. I've been too scared to love God and to let God love me to the full.
It brings me back to my early experience of love with God. Started from Jesus' "Do you love Me?" to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength." Oh God, those words... They remind me of the value of hope. But most of all, it is You, God, who still have hope in me, waiting until I love You too.
Yes, hope whispers, and my heart longs to have the courage to follow... By the way, how many of us really have the courage to be loved totally by God...?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Story of Our Life Belt
This is the homily I delivered at the Expatriate Community Mass at St. Theresia Church this afternoon.
======
"The Story of Our Life Belt"
Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Expatriate Community, Holy Thursday Mass, April 1, 2010
I bought a leather belt more than ten years ago when I was still a student. This is how it looks now: a bit deformed, but still good. I believe that each belt has recorded in itself our life story. As you can see, out of five holes, three have been used. One was used when I was ten kilograms heavier than I am now. The other was when I was for a very short period ten kilograms less than I am now. And the middle hole is for how I am now. In other words, along the way, I had to decide which hole would fit best for me, not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
The first reading and the Gospel today speak about some sort of belt. In the first reading, we have that image of the Israelites getting ready for the flight from Egypt. The promise of freedom is right there before their eyes, soon to be fulfilled. “This is how you are to eat it: with your loins girt, sandals on your feet and your staff in hand, you shall eat like those who are in flight.” In our modern language, “with your loins girt” means “with your belt rightly buckled around your waist, not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
Belt, or girded waist, speaks loudly about readiness. So here is the pun: you are ready for the flight only when your waist is tied. Time is so limited. You will loose it if you still need to look for your belt, to take it, to put it around your waist, and to tie it rightly. Freedom should come from being tied. Running away from the slavery in Egypt does not mean that they will never be tied any more at all. True freedom requires a certain amount of being tied.
What about Jesus? “He rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist.” Jesus ties himself with the towel around his waist as if it were a belt. So, again, belt speaks loudly about readiness. Jesus, who is completely free, lets himself to be tied. He wants to show us, that true freedom should be celebrated from our being tied. The challenge is just the same. One needs to do it right: not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
Yes, belt speaks loudly about readiness. But there is something more with Jesus. He uses towel. He wants not only to wash his disciples’ feet, but also to dry them well. If he lets the disciples go with wet feet, soon they will attract more dirt. The washing does not have sense without the wiping. Jesus’ belt, made of towel, speaks loudly not only about his readiness to serve, but also his readiness to serve fully and responsibly.
As it is with belt, so it is with the challenge in our life. I believe that many of us are inspired to serve, to love, to give good examples, and to maintain any other good values. Problem is, we are kind of juggling between “being tied too loosely” and “being tied too tightly.” Some of us may think that the real freedom in serving others is when we can do whatever we want, in whatever way we like, and anytime we want. These people are breaking rules and accepted norms in order to serve. Some of us have our belt too tight, and hence we believe that the only way to serve others is too impose rigid rules and disciplines, to play with dos and donts.
Let us look then to our imaginary life belt. What stories have been recorded there? Which holes have we been using? Are we walking with difficulty as Jesus’ disciples, simply because we either let our life belt too loose, or we make it too tight? Today, we are invited to rewrite our story recorded in our life belt. If we can ask Saint Paul about what story to write, the answer is obvious. We heard it in our second reading. “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” Our story is none other than the death of Jesus. The challenges in our lives to find the right hole in our life belt are like wide doors open to us to touch again that death of Jesus.
The good news for us is clear. Either our life belt is too loose, or too tight, or just right, we can always return to the Eucharist to relearn about our life story, to rewrite it, to find the right hole, or simply to be amazed by how God can indeed write a better story of our life belt. And I do hope that from now on, every time you buckle your belt each morning, you can hear again that invitation to be ready for the true freedom, to serve, and to do it fully and responsibly. God, help us! Amen.
======
"The Story of Our Life Belt"
Deshi Ramadhani, SJ
Expatriate Community, Holy Thursday Mass, April 1, 2010
I bought a leather belt more than ten years ago when I was still a student. This is how it looks now: a bit deformed, but still good. I believe that each belt has recorded in itself our life story. As you can see, out of five holes, three have been used. One was used when I was ten kilograms heavier than I am now. The other was when I was for a very short period ten kilograms less than I am now. And the middle hole is for how I am now. In other words, along the way, I had to decide which hole would fit best for me, not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
The first reading and the Gospel today speak about some sort of belt. In the first reading, we have that image of the Israelites getting ready for the flight from Egypt. The promise of freedom is right there before their eyes, soon to be fulfilled. “This is how you are to eat it: with your loins girt, sandals on your feet and your staff in hand, you shall eat like those who are in flight.” In our modern language, “with your loins girt” means “with your belt rightly buckled around your waist, not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
Belt, or girded waist, speaks loudly about readiness. So here is the pun: you are ready for the flight only when your waist is tied. Time is so limited. You will loose it if you still need to look for your belt, to take it, to put it around your waist, and to tie it rightly. Freedom should come from being tied. Running away from the slavery in Egypt does not mean that they will never be tied any more at all. True freedom requires a certain amount of being tied.
What about Jesus? “He rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist.” Jesus ties himself with the towel around his waist as if it were a belt. So, again, belt speaks loudly about readiness. Jesus, who is completely free, lets himself to be tied. He wants to show us, that true freedom should be celebrated from our being tied. The challenge is just the same. One needs to do it right: not too loose, not too tight, but just right.
Yes, belt speaks loudly about readiness. But there is something more with Jesus. He uses towel. He wants not only to wash his disciples’ feet, but also to dry them well. If he lets the disciples go with wet feet, soon they will attract more dirt. The washing does not have sense without the wiping. Jesus’ belt, made of towel, speaks loudly not only about his readiness to serve, but also his readiness to serve fully and responsibly.
As it is with belt, so it is with the challenge in our life. I believe that many of us are inspired to serve, to love, to give good examples, and to maintain any other good values. Problem is, we are kind of juggling between “being tied too loosely” and “being tied too tightly.” Some of us may think that the real freedom in serving others is when we can do whatever we want, in whatever way we like, and anytime we want. These people are breaking rules and accepted norms in order to serve. Some of us have our belt too tight, and hence we believe that the only way to serve others is too impose rigid rules and disciplines, to play with dos and donts.
Let us look then to our imaginary life belt. What stories have been recorded there? Which holes have we been using? Are we walking with difficulty as Jesus’ disciples, simply because we either let our life belt too loose, or we make it too tight? Today, we are invited to rewrite our story recorded in our life belt. If we can ask Saint Paul about what story to write, the answer is obvious. We heard it in our second reading. “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.” Our story is none other than the death of Jesus. The challenges in our lives to find the right hole in our life belt are like wide doors open to us to touch again that death of Jesus.
The good news for us is clear. Either our life belt is too loose, or too tight, or just right, we can always return to the Eucharist to relearn about our life story, to rewrite it, to find the right hole, or simply to be amazed by how God can indeed write a better story of our life belt. And I do hope that from now on, every time you buckle your belt each morning, you can hear again that invitation to be ready for the true freedom, to serve, and to do it fully and responsibly. God, help us! Amen.
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