Cardinal Soter
By Anonymous
Sep 22 2020
This time the catechesis was different. Though he could no longer speak, his gestures were enough for me to understand he was asking about my family, about me, and the children.
KUALA LUMPUR – There were no protocols, only a big warm smile, a twinkle in the eye, and outstretched arms.
I had been waiting for this appointment for more than three weeks. And had not seen him for months. Yet the familiar smell of the father’s warmth and love was there.
If I walked in shy, I came out weeping.
As far removed as he is now from the day-to-day pastoral duties of parishes and dioceses, he always put his finger on the pulse of the day. Of the Malaysian Church, he would ask pointedly, “Are we forming disciples or making devotees?” I sat silent. He was concerned that the parishes and priests were more focused on pilgrimages, novenas, and devotions than on leading Catholics to be missionary-disciples for the Kingdom.
This time the catechesis was different. Though he could no longer speak, his gestures were enough for me to understand he was asking about my family, about me, and the children.
The young priest sitting on the bed beside him explained his last catechesis. Pointing to the crucifix on the wall, the Cardinal had pointed back at himself, meaning to say, “As Jesus suffered for me, I too must now suffer with Him.”
At moments like this, emotions well-up in my throat.
The sister in charge came in to feed him. His smile remained, but his eyes were shut and hands tensed as he held unto the edge of the bed. He must have been in enormous pain.
As they took him to the washroom, I lingered in his study, fingering the framed photographs on his table, looking at the books he kept, the photocopy of few articles lying on his shelf, trying to get a deeper glimpse of this priest I had known and admired from my early adulthood, yet thirsting to know him more.
Like everyone else, I do not have ready access to him, or his health situation, or his activities and plans. So I cherish these snatched moments with him that.
I went back quietly to the room to say goodbye. His eyes opened quickly, a wide smile, and very naturally he drew the sign of the cross on my forehead, raised his hands and blessed me. And I, for no reason wept. Was this the fathers love I longed for, or the sadness of losing him, or gratitude for who he is? He hugged me as I wept.
Some decades ago he had told me, “You must decide if you want to please God or please people.” Those words have never left me. He was paraphrasing (Galatians 1:10), “If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
What does my father’s love beckon me to become – for Christ, for His Church, for this land Malaysia? – Herald Malaysia
