For the Christian, what is the singular event that changed history or rather, reality itself? The event that made us who we are – believers in the Lord? One can argue that it is the Resurrection of Jesus. In fact, had the resurrection not taken place, Jesus would have just been one of the many Jewish reformers of his time, destined to be forgotten. The resurrection proved that Jesus was no ordinary man.
The New Testament was written in light of the Resurrection. The Resurrection was the key in re-interpreting everything written in the Old Testament and in deciphering the identity of Jesus. Who was this special person? And how special was he?
Only Jesus rose from the dead, never to die again. Reflection on his life, words and actions, sparked by the Resurrection, led the apostles and early church to declare that Jesus was both human and divine, i.e. God emptied himself to assume our human nature in the person of Jesus Christ through the Incarnation. It was precisely Jesus’ divine nature that enabled him to preach the way he did, heal the way he did, and rise the way he did. Seen from this angle, the Resurrection becomes the evidence and fruit of the Incarnation.
Understanding the Incarnation this way also helps us come to terms with the troubling question: did Jesus have to suffer such a cruel death in order to save us? In a fallen, sinful world, yes. As Jesus himself said, he was destined to be rejected, killed and then rise on the third day (Luke 9:22, Mark 8:31, Matthew 17:22-23), thereby proving his divinity and prompting belief in him.
This uniqueness – Jesus’ ability to hold in perfect union both human and divine natures –allows our communion with God (i.e. salvation) to take place. It is not so much being united with him or to him, as being united in him.
In a sense, we can confidently say that through the Incarnation, God has opened the way for man to be saved – and there is but one way, through Jesus! Being the only means by which the divine and human can co-exist in perfect harmony, Jesus proclaims emphatically, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).
So, coming back to the original question: What is the singular event that changed history or rather, reality itself? Could it be the Incarnation instead? I invite you to ponder on its significance and pray that we will increasingly treasure and accept the longing of God to truly unite us in him.
I am no scholar. I always feel embarrassed when I am called “an expert in Clare” by my brothers. Yet I also feel honoured. After all, I only have a diploma in Franciscan Studies and Spirituality from the Franciscan Study Centre in Kent, England. Ironically though that is what set me on my journey to Clare of Assisi – to understand, discover, and weave her feminine side into my Franciscan inspiration and life.
Clare’s tapestry of Franciscan Spirituality is manifested in her Letters to Agnes of Prague, and I have woven her Mirror Spirituality and Meditation on the San Damiano Crucifix into my Franciscan Spiritual Living Approach. I endeavour to be as Clare encouraged – “Be filled with a remarkable happiness and a spiritual joy!” (1 Letter to Agnes of Prague).
In her Mirror Spirituality, Clare points to the Cross as the Mirror. Gazing at it, considering it, contemplating it, and listening to it let her not only see herself and Christ, but also become the imitation of that relationship reflected in and through the Mirror. Clare evokes this in her Testament to her sisters “to be models and mirrors for others may behold themselves in us”, and this has become a constant reminder of my intimacy with Christ in the Mirror. I am to be a Mirror inspiring those who gaze, consider, and contemplate it become mirrors themselves.
Clare’s intuitive Meditation (4 Letter to Agnes of Prague) on the San Damiano Crucifix combines elements of Lectio Divina and Visio Divina. Just as Francis heard the San Damiano Crucifix speak to him, in her Meditation, Clare is led (leading me) on a journey into the labyrinth of the Crucifix. She begins by reflecting on God’s vulnerability and poverty (my own vulnerability), moves to God’s charity and embrace (God accepts me), then into the depth of God’s love and Self-Giving (God graces me), until finally she is given a contemplative assurance that God is always embracing her (and with me), and calling her “to rebuild”, just as He called Francis.
As we draw closer to the Feast of St Anthony of Padua on 13 June, we are invited to enter more deeply into his spirituality, and to journey with him in prayer and reflection.
A famous line from his early preaching is “Give yourself wholly to God, who gave Himself wholly for you.”
St Anthony lived this message. He was born into a wealthy family but, like St Francis, he gave up everything to follow Jesus. He became a Franciscan friar, living a simple life of prayer, service, and preaching. He used all his gifts to serve others and to teach them about God’s love. Through his gift in preaching, he shared God’s message of love with those who came to listen, to give them hope.
Many of us struggle with prayer, feeling too busy to pray, too distracted to reflect, and too overwhelmed to give ourselves freely. Today’s culture often celebrates self-centeredness disguised as self-care, and productivity as the highest virtue. In this fast-paced environment, it is easy to give God only what is left of our time and attention. But Anthony’s spirituality reminds us that we are called to give not just a part, but our whole selves to God. It reminds us to carve out time for God, to choose silence over noise, and to live not just for ourselves, but in the service of others and for the glory of God.
Giving ourselves wholly to God today means making space each day for prayer, for Scripture, for acts of kindness. It means resisting the temptation to be consumed by our schedules and screens. It means trusting that God knows what is best for us, even when we do not understand.
So, as St Anthony’s feast day draws near, let us take time to reflect: Am I giving my whole self to God, or am I only giving what is easy or convenient? Am I truly too busy to spend time with God?
St Anthony shows us that when we give ourselves to God, we gain peace, purpose, and joy. Let us follow Anthony not just in devotion or as a helper in our needs, but as a spiritual companion who leads us closer to Christ, where true peace and joy reside.
The Stations of the Cross, or the Way of the Cross, is a familiar Lenten practice for many Catholics, with the stations prominently displayed in churches worldwide. At the Church of St Mary of the Angels in Bukit Batok, the stations are uniquely situated outdoors, marked on pillars around the piazza. However, what many parishioners may not realize is the deep connection between the Stations of the Cross and Franciscan spirituality.
Stephen Copeland explored this Franciscan link in an article published in St Anthony Messenger. He noted that the Franciscans “have long had a different approach to the cross, one that comes into focus during the Lenten season. Their perspective and influence are most evident in the weekly liturgical practice of the Stations of the Cross, which the Franciscans played a vital historical role in establishing.” Although the liturgy of the Stations—where participants pray and meditate upon 14 scenes of Jesus’ journey to Calvary—might not immediately seem aligned with the optimism inherent in Franciscanism, Copeland argues that its history can enrich contemporary Lenten practices and personal approaches to the cross.
Within the Franciscan tradition, the Stations of the Cross emerged as a Lenten devotion shortly after St. Francis returned from the Holy Land in 1221. Pilgrims to the Holy Land often brought back relics from Palestine, but they also carried a desire to recreate scenes from the sacred sites to share their experiences with those unable to make the journey. In 1342, the pope entrusted the Franciscans with the care of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre—where Jesus was crucified—and the Via Crucis (the Way of the Cross) in Jerusalem. From this point, the Franciscans began actively promoting the devotion of the Stations of the Cross.
During the 15th and 16th centuries, the Franciscans constructed outdoor shrines across Europe to replicate their counterparts in the Holy Land. In 1686, Pope Innocent XI granted the Franciscans the exclusive right to erect stations within their churches. This privilege was extended in 1731 by Pope Clement XII, who allowed all churches to have the stations, provided they were installed by a Franciscan father with the local bishop’s consent. An Italian friar, St. Leonard of Port Maurice, became a fervent advocate for this devotion. Between 1731 and 1751, he erected the Stations at 572 locations across Italy, including the Colosseum in Rome, earning him the title “preacher of the Way of the Cross.” It was during this period that the number of stations was standardized at 14.
By 1862, the right to erect the Stations was extended to bishops throughout the Church, solidifying the Stations of the Cross as a permanent and universal part of Lenten prayers commemorating Christ’s passion, death, and burial. Friar Jim Sabak OFM, a historian and professor, reflected on St. Leonard’s motivations, stating, “St Leonard was ministering and writing in the aftermath of the Reformation and the breakdown of Christianity. For him, to try to reunify Christianity was to remember this man, Jesus, who died … In praying the Stations, St Leonard was saying to focus on the one who holds us together, even in death … it was to be prayed so that you knew the anchor and root of our faith.”
As the new year begins, I’ve noticed that many people plan their holidays early. These breaks help them to rest, reconnect, and spend intentional time alone or with loved ones. Similarly, we need time apart for our spiritual lives. Retreats offer us the opportunity to step back, rest in the Lord, and deepen our relationship with Him. Whether it is discerning an important decision, seeking renewal, or reconnecting with God, retreats help us ground our lives in Him.
At the San Damiano Franciscan Centre, I’ve been blessed to journey with retreatants as a Spiritual Director. It never ceases to amaze me how God always shows up when someone intentionally sets aside time to seek Him. Silent retreats provide the sacred space to pray, reflect, and listen to God’s voice. In today’s fast-paced and noisy world, silence is a precious gift that helps us recognise where God is working in our lives and hearts.
Retreats allow us to quieten our minds and souls. They create a space to discern God’s will and align our beings more closely with His direction. With the guidance of a spiritual director, retreatants explore the interior state of their lives, affirming goodness, confronting challenges, and embracing God’s healing work.
Regular spiritual direction complements retreats by offering ongoing support and accountability. Regular sessions with a trained spiritual director help one discern the movements of the Holy Spirit and encourage personal growth. One shares about life’s joys and struggles, and questions about faith, integrating the graces from a retreat into daily life for ongoing transformation.
These practices are deeply rooted in Catholic tradition. Jesus himself sought solitude in prayer, retreating to quiet places to commune with the Father. Saints throughout history also modelled the importance of retreats and ongoing spiritual guidance, showing us the way to deepen our relationship with God.
In our busy, fragmented world, retreats and spiritual direction offer peace, clarity, and spiritual growth. They help us live with trust and purpose in God’s love and direction for our lives, strengthening us to share Christ’s love with the world.
So, this year as you plan your holidays or staycations, why not also consider setting aside time to rest in the Lord?
This Advent, as we approach the Year of Jubilee as pilgrims of Hope, we might consider making the period a fast of joy.
We would do this not merely as a penitential act for the expiation of our past sins, but to express our hopeful hunger for a better reality, for a deeper communion with God. Is it no wonder that we have an hour of fasting before receiving communion at Mass? This is the same spirit of self-emptying in preparation of receiving a great gift.
Many of us may not see God’s abundance of goodness at his table of plenty. Our images of God may be distorted and even unhealthy. We may think of God as a harsh policeman or a whimsical tyrant. We may expect God to grant us what we want how we want it simply because we have delivered a set number of prayers and sacrifices. Fasting may be the pathway towards an emptying of these ideas, a way to allow the Holy Spirit to infuse our minds with who God is and guide us to live as his love drives us.
Consider this too, Advent is a time of joyful expectant waiting, but in a world where we demand immediacy and efficiency, we are often frustrated and angry when we have to wait.
Can we learn to simply wait? To allow this waiting time to be grounding time, a time of deeper grounding into the reason for our waiting. To sanctify and beautify the process and the journey.
Can we honour the people we encounter along the way, rather than attribute blame and mistakes to them?
Perhaps this Advent, we can put more effort into catching ourselves before we fall into frustration, into pausing before reacting in anger or hurt, into learning to respond in a healthy and responsible fashion. This is a kind of fasting that is holistic and harmonious with our Christian living.
May we allow the spirit of St Francis of Assisi to inspire our Advent journey, fasting from food and frustration to bring more peace, more joy, and more creative freedom into our world.
