Hezekiah

...and a great man passes away.

I feel more relieved now, I guess, that it's all over. Human suffering is something that's difficult to watch, even when it has so much symbolic significance. To apply a cliche, at least he's no longer going through the painful process of decline. Was praying in church yesterday night for the Pope...basically doing nothing but kneeling and reflecting. The total silence, but for the whirr of the air conditioning and the creak of the pews, is rather conducive for retrospection. And to think of yourself as part of a worldwide movement of one billion people all doing the same things and thinking of the same person, it's quite monumental. What purpose did we serve, by praying for the Pope last night? I don't know. But keeping vigil always has something enriching to offer for me.

Was watching the news for stories about the Pope...and I was struck by how strong he was in his heyday, the days when he was striking out against Communism, against poverty and inequality. His visibility was stunning, really. For someone who has so much influence and power, he made a remarkable effort to be close to average Christians. If the inner workings of the Vatican have always been shrouded in mystery, at least this time it has the Pope's human face attached to it as well. "If the people cannot come to Rome, then bring Rome to the people" indeed.

It's striking how these few days the Pope's affected me. I usually am not so outspoken about my religion. It's just the urgency and the importance of the situation, I guess. It's an irrational thing, this sympathy for someone I don't know going through something I don't understand. I guess also to some extent it's an urge to belong to something greater, to join in solidarity with something at once public and intimate. The church attached a lot of symbolism to these few days. Religious or not, there is a lot that is evocative. And because it was not just any Christian, or just any Pope, who passed away, but a man who contributed so distinctly to the human experience, it has arrested me. And I guess to some extent the world as well.

It was heartwarming today to see a little cross hanging on the cash register of Raffles City's Subway.

* * * * *

Went to Toa Payoh for lunch on Friday with Mel and Chern. I have to say that it was a great time, the bouts of shopping included =) It's great to see other people who like the place as much as me. To share an experience is something to be treasured, and I'm glad they found Toa Payoh entertaining. Had the usual fare, mutton soup, bread and the indispensible teh cino. Then we went on a survey of the shops around the Library plaza, and found this shop selling homemade hand-designed clothes, started up by young adults. I can see Mel behind the counter of a shop like that one day. The Singapore fashion mogul =P

We were talking about religion over lunch. Strange how these topics seem to appear out of nowhere and engage us for hours on end (well, it was a little more than an hour at least). It's always intrigued me, how come people make so much out of technical differences. If we all believe in the One God and Jesus, what else is there to argue about? The rituals and songs and official posts and churches and artwork and philosophy are all only different ways to express the same belief. And compared to the momentousness of that core belief, in an omniscient and benevolent supreme being, what does it matter that some people express it differently?

It's interesting, how these things come around. After almost a decade of absence from Toa Payoh, I find myself in a school in neighbouring Bishan. And with the whole estate upgraded and revitalised, Toa Payoh offers way more than Bishan in the form of interesting sights and events. The old streets and shops, and the church and Library plaza especially, of childhood are still there, lingering on under layers of new paint. Things are different, but there remains enough familiar things to offer a real sense of grounding. So I find myself walking through a repainted and rebuilt Toa Payoh Mall, and finding the old spirit tree still in the middle of it. And I find myself in a repaved Library plaza with a refurbished Library (only the staircase is the same) with new friends, but the old church is still there, as is the mutton soup.

I wonder why I have such a historical outlook nowadays. Is it hearkening back to a simpler time?

Today was Qing Ming, so I was at the columbarium. It was ironic that even on a Sunday I had to go back to school, and seeing the A block looming over the final resting place of my ancestors has something disturbingly surreal in it. Especially when it occured to me that when I die and get cremated, I'll probably be placed in that columbarium. Next door from school =S Anyway, after that went out with Soph for lunch at Cedele. Once again, I have to say that I love that kind of meal...the peasant's meal, soup and bread. Simple, rough and dignified in its inelegance. In a world with too many nice things, substantialness must be sought in the semingly unremarkable.

We speak so much about love, but how can we know what it really is at this time? How can one expect the next love attachment to be the forever one? How can one approach young love at this age without a certain skepticism and fatalism in its transience? Why do some people still think that they can find true love in a JC? Ah well, I was never much of a romantic anyway. It's only funny how things work out to bring so many things together in such conducive combinations. Years ago I had a vague sense that I was setting the foundations for my own future. And to see the preparations bearing fruit now, to see old people reappearing in new combinations, I wonder if I really had any idea what I was constructing. And how much control I actually had over the process, and if it was all an accident, why it ended up so remarkably good.

pondered by phoenican @ 3.4.05