By Fr Robert Leong, Apostolic Vicariate of Brunei Darussalam

A particularly meaningful experience during the ad limina visit was the audience with Pope Leo XIV. Being able to converse with him directly, without the need for a translator, made the encounter especially significant. He listened attentively to our concerns and responded with understanding, wisdom and compassion.

His constant appeal for peace and his call for all Christians to become builders of peace in today’s troubled world reminded us that the Church’s mission extends beyond proclaiming the Gospel to also fostering reconciliation, dialogue and harmony among peoples.

The meetings with the various Vatican dicasteries were equally enriching. At the Dicastery for Communication, we were reminded of our responsibility to communicate truthfully and responsibly in an age marked by misinformation and fake news. We were encouraged to reflect carefully before communicating, ensuring that our words contribute positively to society and make a genuine difference. The dicastery also challenged us not to be afraid to raise important questions and to promote a more humane and compassionate world.

Our visit to the Dicastery for Divine Worship reaffirmed the importance of remaining faithful to the teachings of the Second Vatican Council and to the liturgical life of the Church. Fidelity to the Church’s teaching and tradition remains essential in preserving ecclesial communion and unity.

The meeting with the Secretariat of the Synod highlighted the importance of forming missionary disciples who are capable of participation, collaboration and co-responsibility within the Church. We were reminded of the need to listen to all people, including those whose views may differ from our own. Such formation helps cultivate communities that are active, accountable, collaborative and non-judgemental, qualities that are essential if the Church is to move forward faithfully and effectively in today’s world.

One of the unique contributions that the Church in Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei can offer to the universal Church is our lived experience of harmony within multicultural and multireligious societies. In our region, people of different faiths, cultures and ethnic backgrounds have learned to live alongside one another with mutual respect and understanding. Rather than focusing on differences, we seek to recognise and celebrate the goodness present in one another’s traditions, cultures and religious festivals. This spirit of openness and respect offers a valuable witness to peaceful coexistence in an increasingly divided world.

Throughout the ad limina pilgrimage, the bishops spent much time praying, walking and journeying together. These shared experiences underscored the importance of fraternity among bishops. Such fraternity strengthens relationships, fosters mutual support and reminds us that bishops, too, need friendship, encouragement and companionship in their ministry. In today’s pastoral landscape, where challenges can be complex and demanding, this sense of brotherhood enables us to serve the People of God with greater unity and effectiveness.

Returning from Rome renewed in spirit, I am encouraged by the knowledge that the Church is truly a universal family. Sharing our hopes, concerns and challenges with the Holy Father and the wider Church deepens our understanding of one another and strengthens the bonds of communion that unite us. We experienced firsthand the Holy Father’s attentiveness, compassion and willingness to listen, reminding us that we are never far from the heart of the Church.

My message to the faithful is one of hope and confidence. Wherever we may be, we belong to a welcoming family of faith. The Church is our home, and we journey together as one community united in Christ. Let us continue to trust in the guidance of the Holy Spirit, knowing that the Lord continues to accompany His Church with love, grace and hope. – Herald Malaysia

By Cardinal Sebastian Francis, Diocese of Penang

THE most meaningful moment of the ad limina visit for me was the celebration of Holy Mass at the tombs of Sts Peter and Paul, followed by an audience with Pope Leo XIV, the successor of St Peter. Standing at the heart of Apostolic tradition, I experienced a profound sense of communion with the living history of the Church. It was a powerful reminder of the unbroken line of faith, leadership and witness that stretches from the Apostles to the present day through the ministry of the Bishop of Rome.

Praying and celebrating the Eucharist at the tomb of St Peter was particularly moving. As the rock upon which Christ built His Church, Peter remains a symbol of unity, continuity and fidelity through his successors. St Paul, the great missionary apostle, reminds us of the Church’s mission to bring the Gospel to the ends of the earth. Together, these two apostles embody both the foundation and the mission of the Church — One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic.

Meeting Pope Leo XIV was a moment of grace and deep significance. Having previously met Pope Francis during the consistory at which he created me a cardinal, I was struck by the continuity between these two pontiffs. While each possesses a distinct personality and style of leadership, both are united in the same mission of serving the Universal Church and proclaiming the Gospel. The encounter reinforced for me the importance of communion with the Holy Father and fidelity to the Church’s teachings. It also highlighted the reality that attempts to divide the Church along personal or ideological lines fail to grasp the deeper truth of the papacy: that each successor of Peter serves the same Church, guided by the same Spirit and entrusted with the same mission handed down by Christ.

Our meetings with the Vatican dicasteries revealed their role: they exist first to serve the Holy Father and, through him, the Universal Church. Their professionalism, discipline, pastoral sensitivity, and spiritual depth reassured me that the Church is under the strong and faithful leadership of Pope Leo XIV. Their guidance was not abstract but deeply connected to the realities and challenges we face in our region, offering encouragement and direction for our local mission.

The Church in Malaysia and people of all faiths are invited to go beyond the rhetoric of politics, race, religion, and nationality. I felt strongly in my ad limina visit that unity, diversity and equality are an asset if we are able to go beyond the rhetoric. By transcending the rhetoric of politics, race, religion, and nationality, we embody a Catholic truth based on the Trinity.

The Church of Malaysia is in a region which is vibrant and multi-religious, multicultural and multi-lingual. But enough of thinking of them only as challenges! We should think of them firstly as assets: diversity and unity in diversity, are assets. Diversity is not a threat, and within diversity, we must discover equality. With these three fundamental things – unity, diversity and equality – it’s really about the Trinity and it is about us. That is very exciting, and with the right orientation, we can face the challengers together.

Returning from Rome, rested and renewed in spirit, I wish to share a message of confidence and hope: the Catholic Church is moving forward with strength and unity. Let us rest in the assurance that the Holy Spirit continues to guide and lead us. – Herald Malaysia

By Fr Ron Rolheiser, OMI

I grew up in a rural area where most everyone was either a first or second-generation immigrant. Most of us were just above the poverty line, struggling economically and struggling to speak English properly. We were also struggling to access higher education, both because a lot of my peers had to end their schooling after the eighth grade to help support the family and because the idea of university education was not yet part of most families’ ethos.

In our community there was one family for which this wasn’t true. They were comfortable economically and a number of them had gone on to higher education and were now professionals in different fields. They were a privileged family.

But they wore it well. There was no snobbishness, flaunting, or superiority complex. The opposite. They used their gifts to try to help the community. One of their sons became a teacher and taught in one of the local schools, and for a number of years the family set up a curling rink every winter for the community. They were both admired and respected.

One day one of their sons was sitting with a group of young men who were sharing a beer, sharing stories, and enjoying some healthy banter, when the son of this much respected family made a blatantly racist remark. There was an awkward silence. Then one of men, in a gentle voice, said this to him: “You know, it surprises me that you would say something like that. Your family is so classy. We all look up to you. This doesn’t sound like you.”

The man’s reaction was immediate and contrite: “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I say things like that. That was stupid.”

I can imagine a very different reaction had he been challenged with hard words like: “You’re a racist! How can you say something like that!”

When we challenge each other in harsh words, the effect often serves to make us more defensive and freeze us in our view. We are being scolded, rebuked, shamed, and that can work just as easily to re-entrench as to persuade. It also serves to harden the space between us rather than invite us to what’s best and highest in ourselves.

We need to invite and challenge each other to what’s best and higher inside us.

And what is best and higher inside us?

Some of our early Christian writers (the Church Fathers) suggested that each of us has a double personality and heart. In each of us, they submit, there is a big, generous, noble, altruistic heart. But, inside each of us too, there is a wounded, petty, and selfish heart; and at any given time, we can be operating out of one heart or the other. We can be big-hearted and we can be petty, and this can change from one hour to the next depending on what’s meeting us in life.

Here’s an example: Imagine you wake up some morning feeling altruistic and noble of heart. At that moment, you have the mind and heart of Jesus. In that holy frame of mind, you go to work and there someone is cold and sarcastic with you. In one minute, everything can switch; you no longer have the mind and heart of Jesus, nor the mind and heart of what’s best in you. The wounded petty heart in you trumps the big heart, warmth and understanding leave you, and you now feel cold and bitter.

Now imagine this in reverse: You wake up some morning feeling paranoid, misunderstood, and nursing old wounds. At that moment you don’t have the mind and heart of Jesus, nor are you attuned to what’s better and higher in your own mind and heart. You go to work in that unholy state and there, unexpectedly, some co-worker greets you warmly and shares how much she appreciates your work and your friendship. In one minute, the noble mind in you trumps the petty mind and all that’s best and generous in you rises to the surface and you want to be a better person. You flip from bitterness to graciousness in one minute.

We live in a polarized world today where so many issues bitterly divide us and invite us not to what’s noble and best in us, but rather to what’s wounded, paranoid, and defensive. We need a new tone in our discourse, one of invitation and respect, one that recognizes what’s noble and big-hearted in the other and then challenges the other to own what’s best in him or her.

Instead of name-calling and assaulting each other with slogans, we need to say to each other: “You know, it surprises me that you would say something like that. You’re so classy! We all look up to you. This doesn’t sound like you.” That kind of invitation can help thaw some of the coldness that for all kinds of reasons perennially besets the human heart.

Used with permission of the author, Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser. Currently, Father Rolheiser is currently serving as President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio Texas. He can be contacted through his website, www.ronrolheiser.com. Follow on Facebook www.facebook.com/ronrolheiser.

By Joseph Masilamany

A proposal in Malaysia to make the care of elderly parents a legal responsibility of their children has touched a sensitive nerve because it goes beyond the law and enters the emotional core of Asian family life.

Deputy Prime Minister Ahmad Zahid Hamidi recently announced that the Women, Family and Community Development Ministry is drafting legislation that could compel adult children to support aging parents. The move comes amid growing public concern over elderly Malaysians being abandoned in hospitals, neglected financially or left in care homes with little contact with their families.

The outrage surrounding such cases is understandable. In many Asian societies, filial piety is not simply a personal virtue but a social expectation deeply rooted in culture, religion and tradition. Parents are often seen as having spent their lives sacrificing for their children. The idea that they could be discarded in old age strikes many Malaysians as morally shocking.

Religious traditions have long reinforced this moral duty. In Christianity, honoring one’s father and mother is among the Ten Commandments. It is presented not merely as social etiquette but as a sacred obligation tied to justice, gratitude and communal stability.

In the New Testament, Jesus condemned those who used religious loopholes to avoid supporting their parents, rebuking people who declared their resources “Corban” — dedicated to God — rather than helping their mother or father (Mark 7:10–12).

The Apostle Paul went even further, warning that anyone who fails to care for relatives “has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8).

Yet the Bible’s understanding of honor goes beyond financial obligation alone. It speaks of dignity, respect, presence and compassion. It is ultimately a moral and spiritual duty freely embraced, not one imposed through fear of punishment.

That is where the government’s proposal raises uncomfortable questions. A law may compel financial support. It may punish neglect. But can the state legislate gratitude, affection or moral responsibility?

A regional trend

Several Asian countries have already attempted to do so. Singapore’s Maintenance of Parents Act allows elderly parents to seek financial support from children through a tribunal process. China introduced laws requiring adult children to visit their aging parents regularly. India also has legislation mandating support for senior citizens.

These laws emerged from similar concerns — aging populations, rising living costs, smaller families and the weakening of traditional support structures. Malaysia is facing the same pressures.

The country is aging rapidly. Families are having fewer children. Younger Malaysians increasingly migrate to cities or overseas for work, leaving elderly parents behind in smaller towns and rural communities. At the same time, the cost of living continues to rise, placing many working adults under severe financial strain.

Many belong to the so-called “sandwich generation” — caring for both children and elderly parents while trying to survive themselves economically.

That reality complicates the debate.

Beyond simple morality

The public discussion often assumes a simple moral failure: selfish children abandoning helpless parents. Certainly, some cases reflect genuine neglect and indifference. But others are far more complicated. Not all family relationships are healthy. Some parents were abusive, absent or neglectful themselves. Others may have severed ties with their children years earlier.

A blanket legal obligation risks reducing deeply complex family histories into a simplistic legal formula. There is also the danger that the state uses moral language to shift responsibility away from itself.

If elderly neglect is becoming more common, it reflects broader structural problems, not merely declining values. Longer life expectancy, economic insecurity and changing family structures are transforming how care is provided. Traditional assumptions — especially the expectation that women within families will shoulder caregiving responsibilities — are becoming increasingly unrealistic in dual-income households.

The state’s responsibility

In this context, legislation alone cannot solve the crisis.

Malaysia still lacks a comprehensive eldercare system capable of supporting families under strain. Affordable nursing facilities remain limited. Public healthcare for the elderly is uneven. Caregiver support is minimal. Retirement savings for many lower-income Malaysians are insufficient.

Without broader reforms, the proposed law risks functioning less as a social safety net than as a legal instrument of guilt.

Supporters of the proposal argue that the law would target only extreme cases and serve as a last resort for abandoned elderly parents. That may be true. The legislation could provide vulnerable seniors with some degree of protection where family support has completely collapsed.

But even if the law succeeds legally, it may fail emotionally.

A court can order maintenance payments. It cannot restore broken relationships. It cannot create compassion where resentment already exists. It cannot force children to visit parents out of genuine love rather than fear of punishment.

A changing society

The deeper issue is not whether filial piety should exist. Most Malaysians would agree that children have moral responsibilities toward aging parents. The real question is whether modern society still provides families with the economic and social conditions necessary to fulfil those responsibilities.

Filial piety was easier to sustain in extended families and slower-paced communities where generations lived close together. Modern urban life has changed that reality. Families are more fragmented. Economic pressure consumes time and emotional energy. Migration separates parents from children by hundreds of kilometers.

None of these excuses for abandonment. But it does suggest that moral decline alone is not the full story.

If Malaysia truly wants to protect its elderly population, the answer cannot rest solely on punishment. It must include stronger public eldercare policies, better healthcare access, financial support systems and community-based care networks that reduce pressure on families already struggling to cope.

A society should expect children not to abandon their parents. But it should also recognise that care cannot be sustained through legislation alone.

Laws can enforce duty. They cannot manufacture devotion. – UCA News

By Cong B. Corrales

In the uptown expanse of Manresa, the earth has been laid bare. Where a canopy of 500 trees once stood, there is now only the raw, churned soil waiting for a new project to take shape.

This is ground zero for Xavier University-Ateneo de Cagayan’s (XU) “Campus of the Future” — a sprawling, ultra-modern vision meant to redefine Jesuit education in Mindanao.

​But beneath the bulldozed dirt and glossy architectural renderings lies a sleeping giant, awakened by the roar of heavy machinery: a 90-year-old Philippine land law.

The clash between a multi-billion-peso real estate venture and a decades-old land grant condition is unfolding not just as a legal skirmish, but as a battle for the soul of a historic institution.

​A vision paved over

​To understand the importance of the Manresa soil, one must look back to 1952.

Visionary Jesuit Father William Masterson acquired this land specifically to nurture the university’s College of Agriculture.

It was a space designed by the Church to cultivate stewards of the earth.

Six years later, in 1958, XU etched its name in Philippine education history as the very first Ateneo school to achieve university status.

​That same year, a land grant governed by the Public Land Act (Commonwealth Act 141) cemented the property’s destiny. The grant came with a non-negotiable caveat: the land must serve an educational purpose.

​Today, 14 hectares of that legacy are being carved out for commercial real estate in a joint venture between XU and Cebu Landmasters Inc. (CLI), a leading developer in Visayas and Mindanao.

For alumni watching the trees fall in the era of Laudato Si’ — Pope Francis’s encyclical demanding environmental stewardship, the irony is bitter.

A project dubbed the “Campus of the Future” is systematically erasing its ecological past.

​“The campaign against the sale of the XU downtown campus was successful,” noted alumna Rachel Polistico, watching the uptown development unfold with dismay.

“Now, even the uptown campus will be taken back by the government. Greed can never be satisfied,” she said.

​The whistleblowers

​The pushback isn’t just moral; it’s heavily fortified by law.

The Concerned Parents, Teachers, Alumni, and Community Against the Sale of the Xavier Campus (Coptac) pulled the emergency brake on the development, pointing directly to the property’s Original Certificate of Title.

​Gemma Pabayo-Velasco, a petitioner with Coptac, accused CLI of a massive failure in corporate due diligence. The title, she pointed out, explicitly mandates that the land remain dedicated to education.

“You cannot simply build a commercial hub over an unexpired government restriction,” she said.

​“The ownership of XU is not absolute,” explained Ralph Angelo B. Metrillo, legal counsel for Coptac.

He noted that violations of the grant’s conditions trigger immediate rescission of the sale and forfeiture of the property.

He added: “If we pointed this out, the DENR would have missed this.”

​The government summons

​The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) didn’t miss it for long.

Prompted by Coptac’s whistleblowing, the DENR Central Office issued a stern memorandum. Taking the threat of forfeiture seriously, Manila directed its regional office to “evaluate the land deal and prepare for possible reversion proceedings.”

​The gavel dropped locally on May 11.

The DENR-10, which oversees environmental protection, conservation, and land management in Northern Mindanao, officially summoned XU and CLI.

It issued a 15-day ultimatum for the developers to “submit a written explanation citing the specific laws that authorize the commercial use of the site.”

​Project at a crossroads

​Despite the looming threat of the national government reclaiming the land, XU and CLI have doubled down on their concrete ambitions.

In an undated joint statement, the partners dismissed the uproar as mere “external noise,” leaning on the Torrens system to claim their title grants them absolute legal certainty to commercialize the space.

They maintain that the modernization of Jesuit education in the region is “non-negotiable.”

​Meanwhile, the earth continues to move, and CLI has already begun pre-selling units for the commercial components of the project.

This prompted a stark warning from Metrillo to prospective buyers banking on the blueprint.

“I urge the public to keep track of the developments,” Metrillo cautioned, “especially those who have already invested some of their hard-earned money in this project.”

The “Campus of the Future” currently stands at a crossroads between modern real estate development and historical preservation.

By Debora Donnini

Woman, who bears within her womb “the factory of life,” has a fundamental mission in society. Closely linked to this physical reality is also the meaning of virginity, understood as an eschatological sign that points toward a love directed to Heaven. These themes lie at the heart of the book Undivided Heart: Mission and Virginity in Carmen Hernández, recently published in English and French, edited respectively by Dino Furgione and Giuliano Bonomi.

The author, Josefina Ramón Berná, a lay missionary of the Neocatechumenal Way, has collected around 400 quotations from the Servant of God Carmen Hernández, offering a broad overview of her reflections on women and, in particular, on the relationship between virginity and mission. The text highlights the catechetical and theological depth of Hernández’s thought. Meanwhile, in Madrid, the diocesan phase of her cause for beatification and canonization is currently underway.

United to Christ

In the introduction, Kiko Argüello emphasizes the gift of this vocation and the importance of remaining united to Christ, whether as an itinerant missionary, a religious sister serving in Africa, or someone caring for AIDS patients in a hospital. “Virginity,” he writes, “is an eschatological sign of this spiritual and eternal love.”

Evangelization and virginity

One of the central themes highlighted by the author is the close link between evangelization and virginity, just as virginity and motherhood are also inseparable, even if this may appear paradoxical. María Ascensión Romero, a member of the International Team of the Neocatechumenal Way, reflects on this point in the prologue.

She explains that virginity becomes fruitful through love for Jesus Christ, since authentic love always generates life. Many fruits, she notes, are born from the witness and preaching of those who may not have children according to the flesh, but who give their lives for others. The book points to the many vocations to mission, priesthood, and consecrated life within the Way, as well as the rebuilding of marriages and openness to life, as visible signs of this fruitfulness. Romero also stresses that virginity is entirely grace — a gift that does not arise from moralism, but from God.

Virginity in Christianity

The reflections of Carmen Hernández gathered in the volume also explore the distinction between the priestesses of the pre-Christian pagan world, associated with mystery cults, and the understanding of women in Judaism, where, for example, women light the Shabbat candle within the family.

Already in the Old Testament, the important role of women emerges clearly: figures such as Deborah, Judith, and Esther are presented as women who helped save the people of Israel. Yet they are not priestesses. In Christianity, the author explains, virginity is not connected to the priesthood, but “is directed toward a fullness whose model is the Virgin Mary, placed at the center of the Church.” In this sense, “virginity represents the creativity of God.”

“The factory of life”

Woman, in fact, possesses something immense: the womb, described by Carmen Hernández as “the factory of life and of history.” For this reason, she says in her reflections, “death will always seek to destroy woman.” This struggle can be seen throughout Sacred Scripture, from Eve in Genesis to the woman clothed with the sun in the Book of Revelation.

The volume contains numerous references to female figures of both the Old and New Testaments, to Jewish tradition, to the Fathers of the Church, to the documents of the Second Vatican Council, and to the Magisterium of the Popes. Together they reflect the breadth of formation and culture possessed by Carmen Hernández, alongside her scientific background and her fifty years of missionary experience proclaiming the Gospel throughout the world with Kiko Argüello.

The fatherhood of God

The book also reflects on the fatherhood of God in relation to virginity, on chastity among young people as a path toward discovering one’s vocation, and on priestly celibacy. It further explores the depth of the Hebrew term rahamim — mercy — derived from rehem, meaning womb, expressing a love connected more to maternal compassion than to the heart.

At the center of this theological and catechetical richness is the profound link between love for Christ and mission. As Josefina Ramón Berná writes, Carmen Hernández “wanted to go on mission throughout her entire life because she lived in an intimate relationship of love with Christ. Going out to evangelize was simply a consequence of the irresistible call of the love of Jesus Christ.” – Vatican News

By Joseph Tek Choon Yee

There are shepherds who lead by thunder. And there are shepherds who lead by stillness.

Bishop Emeritus Dominic Su Haw Chiu belonged beautifully to the second kind. His was not a ministry of noise, display or self-importance. His was a ministry of quiet faith, gentle authority, prayerful endurance and deep pastoral presence.

Today, the Church in Sibu, Sarawak, Malaysia and beyond bows its head in sorrow and gratitude as Bishop Dominic Su, the first Bishop of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Sibu, returns home to the Lord he served so faithfully.

Born in Sibu on May 29 1939, he was truly a son of Sarawak soil. His vocation took him from local beginnings to St Francis Xavier’s Minor Seminary in Singapore, then to College General in Penang, where generations of Malaysian priests were formed. He was ordained to the priesthood on Dec 4 1969 by Bishop Charles Reiterer, and later pursued Canon Law at the Pontifical Urbaniana University in Rome from 1979 to 1981.

But dates and institutions tell only the outer story. The inner story was one of surrender.

When Pope John Paul II appointed him the first Bishop of Sibu on Dec 22 1986, Bishop Dominic was called to shepherd not merely a diocese, but a young local Church still finding its shape, rhythm and confidence. He was consecrated bishop by Pope John Paul II at St Peter’s Basilica in Rome on Jan 6 1987, and installed in Sibu on Feb 11 1987.

To be the first bishop of a diocese is no small calling. It is to arrive when foundations are still fresh. It is to build not only buildings, but belonging. It is to organise not only structures, but souls. It is to shepherd priests, religious and laity into a shared sense of mission. It is to help a local Church say, with quiet confidence: we are here, we are one, and we belong to Christ.

Bishop Dominic carried that responsibility with grace.

For nearly twenty-five years, from 1987 until his retirement on Dec 24 2011, he shepherded the Diocese of Sibu through its formative years. He served until Bishop Joseph Hii Teck Kwong succeeded him, leaving behind not a monument to himself, but a living Church continuing its journey.

His episcopal motto, “Laudetur Dominus” “Praise be to the Lord”, now seems almost like the summary of his life.  Not “Praise be to the bishop.” Not “Praise be to the office.” Not “Praise be to achievement.” But simply, humbly, faithfully: Praise be to the Lord.

That was Bishop Dominic’s quiet theology of life.

The Diocese of Sibu remembered him for his “devoted and tireless service,” his “gentle shepherding of God’s people,” and his “witness of humility and faith.” Those are not merely polite obituary phrases.

They are the architecture of a life well lived. Not only whether he administered well. Not only whether he preached well. Not only whether he presided well. But whether people, after encountering him, wanted to pray better, serve better, believe better, and love Christ more deeply. Bishop Dominic did that.

He was also remembered in his later years with tenderness. In July 2025, when rumours circulated about his declining health, Bishop Joseph Hii’s office clarified that Bishop

Dominic, though physically weaker with age, remained peaceful, steady, well cared for, and spiritually strong. The faithful were asked to pray with serenity and trust in God’s timing.

That phrase now feels deeply moving: God’s timing.

For all ministry finally comes to that. There is a time to be ordained. A time to be sent. A time to build. A time to shepherd. A time to retire. A time to pray quietly from the background. And a time to return to the Father’s house.

On May 15 2026, at 9.52am, Bishop Dominic Su Haw Chiu completed his earthly pilgrimage, just days short of his 87th birthday.

The shepherd has gone home. The mitre is laid down. The crozier is surrendered. The voice that once blessed, taught and consoled is now silent on earth, but not lost in heaven.

For Sarawak, Bishop Dominic’s life was also a reminder that greatness in the Church often grows quietly from local soil. A son of Sibu became the first shepherd of Sibu. From the land, for the land, with the land. Among rivers, families, schools, parishes, longhouses, towns and communities of many tongues and cultures, he helped the Catholic faith take deeper root.

He belonged to that older generation of Church leaders who did not confuse leadership with celebrity. He did not need a loud platform. He had a pulpit. He had prayers. He had presence. He had fidelity. And perhaps that was enough.

In our age of instant noise, Bishop Dominic’s passing invites the Church to remember the power of quiet holiness. The Church is not built only by grand announcements. It is built by Mass after Mass, visit after visit, meeting after meeting, blessing after blessing, confession after confession, prayer after prayer.

It is built by shepherds who stay. Bishop Dominic stayed. He stayed with his vocation. He stayed with his people. He stayed with the Church. He stayed with the Lord. And now, in faith, we believe the Lord has received him.

The Diocese has invited clergy, religious and faithful to pray for the repose of his soul and entrust him to the mercy and love of the Risen Lord. That is exactly what we now do.

With gratitude. With sadness. With hope. With affection. With Catholic faith.

Thank you, Bishop Dominic Su Haw Chiu. Thank you for your gentle shepherding. Thank you for your humility. Thank you for your years of faithful service.

Thank you for giving Sibu not merely administration, but spiritual fatherhood. Thank you for showing that leadership can be quiet and still be strong. Thank you for reminding us that the deepest legacy of a bishop is not written only in records, but in hearts.

May the Church you loved continue to grow. May the seeds you planted continue to bear fruit. May the priests, religious and laity of Sibu carry forward your legacy of faith.

And may your episcopal motto become our prayer too: Laudetur Dominus. Praise be to the Lord.

Rest in peace, Bishop Dominic Su Haw Chiu.

Gentle shepherd of Sibu. Faithful servant of Christ. Son of Sarawak. Father to many. May the angels lead you home.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. Amen.

By Keiko Kurane

At lunchtime, a 45-year-old office worker scrolls through his phone as he eats a convenience store meal, alone.

“I’m used to it,” he told UCA News. “But of course, I still want to share a meal with someone, maybe a co-worker, a friend, or family.”

The man, who did not want to be named, said he has followed the same routine for more than 20 years now, though not without question.

Across Japan, many find themselves in a similar situation.

Loneliness remains widespread, even as awareness grows and the government steps up efforts to address social isolation.

A recent Cabinet Office survey, reported by Jiji Press, found that 4.5 percent of respondents often or always felt lonely in 2025, up 0.2 percent from the previous year.

Another 13.7 percent said they sometimes feel lonely, while 19.5 percent said they experience it occasionally.

The survey, conducted in December and released on Apr 14, was sent to 20,000 randomly selected people aged 16 and older, and received valid responses from 59.4 percent of them.

Loneliness was most common among people between their 30s and 50s.

A clear pattern

The data also showed a clear pattern. The less often people eat with others, the more likely they are to feel lonely.

Among those who rarely share meals, 17.3 percent said they often or always feel lonely, compared with 5.1 percent who dine with others once or twice a month, and 3.7 percent among those who share meals about once a week.

For medical and psychological anthropologist Chikako Ozawa-de Silva, the connection points to a wider social issue.

“Loneliness is not a failure on the part of the individual, but on the part of society,” she told UCA News, describing it as a “failure of empathy and intimacy.”

Over time, she said, this can leave people feeling unseen or unneeded.

Eating, she added, is more than a daily necessity.

“Eating together can help people feel seen and recognized, and increase a sense of belonging.”

Yet for many in Japan, opportunities to connect like this have become fewer because of long working hours, smaller households, and social expectations that limit interaction outside work and the home.

In the parishes he visits, Father Edwin Corros, assistant director of the Catholic Tokyo International Center, said the effects of isolation are often visible.

“I could see it in their eyes, and I also came to learn it through casual conversation or in situations when they sought me for advice,” said the priest, who ministers to foreign communities in Tokyo, particularly Filipinos.

“Many are living alone, far from family, and struggling to feel they belong.”

Among migrants, he said, loneliness is made harder by distance and the challenge of adjusting to a different culture.

“They struggle to adjust, to fit in, and to belong,” Corros told UCA News.

Addressing isolation

For some, simple routines such as staying after Mass, sharing food, and spending time together help ease that feeling.

“For those who have no one to be with, the Church becomes a second home,” Corros said. “They stay, share meals, and spend time together.”

Beyond churches and faith communities, other efforts are also emerging to address isolation.

One example is the spread of kodomo shokudo, or children’s cafeterias, where free or low-cost meals are offered in communities across the country.

Originally created to support children, many of these spaces have grown into informal gathering places for people of all ages.

Organizations such as Musubie, a national nonprofit that supports these initiatives, describe them as ibasho, or places where people can feel safe, accepted, and able to be themselves.

“People in their 30s to 50s, in particular, are a generation that faces strong expectations to fulfill specific ‘roles’ at work and at home,” Kana Tsukahara, spokeswoman for Musubie, told UCA News.

“It is said that the sense of loneliness among people in their 30s to 50s in Japan stems from the current reality that there are few places outside the home and workplace where they can be their ‘true selves,’” she added.

The group says ibasho is more than just a place to pass the time.

“It is not just a place to distract from loneliness, but a space where one’s existence is affirmed,” Tsukahara said.

Such spaces can reach people who may not seek formal help, offering connection before isolation deepens.

Even with government initiatives such as the “You Are Not Alone” campaign, many say the feeling has not gone away.

“I think I’m getting tired of the loneliness,” the office worker told UCA News.

He said he has started looking for groups he can join, hoping to find people to share time and meals with. – UCA News

By Paterno R. Esmaquel II

AT the age of six, Shekinah Fuentes knows little about the sorrows of life.

But onstage, her face contorted in grief as she delivered a performance that drove adults, including her parents, to tears.

During a nearly two-hour performance on Holy Tuesday, Fuentes portrayed one of the women of Jerusalem who cried as they met Jesus on his way to Calvary.

That same evening, on another part of the stage was Leo Llorca, a 28-year-old humble water delivery boy.

He played the mighty Caiaphas, the high priest who plotted to have Jesus put to death.

Fuentes and Llorca were among around 100 young people performing the Senakulo, a traditional Filipino stage play on the Passion of Christ, at the National Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Valenzuela City, in the northern part of the Philippine capital region.

Historic roots, new appeal

The Senakulo tradition dates back to the 17th century, when the Philippines was under Spanish colonial rule. It is traditionally held in church buildings or on the streets, where residents gather for a one- or two-hour retelling of Christ’s Passion.

Now, aided by professional equipment and contemporary music to make it appealing to Gen Z, the Senakulo is drawing thousands of Filipino youth back to the Church at a time when church attendance has been declining.

The Senakulo has survived because it has been passed on from generation to generation.

Fuentes’ father, 35-year-old Jaycee Fuentes, has been a regular Senakulo performer since 2010.

While work-related duties prevented him from participating this year, he was happy that his six-year-old daughter could take his place.

Shekinah has loved acting since she was three years old, he says.

The preparations for the Senakulo began at home, as he and his wife, Ruan Badajos, catechized their daughter about the Way of the Cross.

“It’s become so easy for her to tap into those emotions because she sees and feels the suffering of Jesus. Before she joined the Senakulo, we really opened her eyes to the way Jesus suffered,” Jaycee Fuentes told UCA News.

Shekinah is now growing up to be a pious girl, one who leads the prayers every breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

When asked by UCA News about her prayer to God, the six-year-old quickly answered: “Lord, thank you for the gifts you have given us. Amen.”

Llorca, who was still wearing his Caiaphas costume as he was being interviewed, said he made time for the Senakulo rehearsals despite his work commitments.

He has been working in the mornings, then serving as a choir member at the parish in the afternoon.

Llorca said he has been performing in the Senakulo for five years now.

“This is my promise to God every year,” Llorca told UCA News. “It is my way of showing gratitude for the graces given by God.”

Drawing young people

Father Elmer Ignacio, parish priest of Our Lady of Fatima, said the Senakulo was a way to draw young people to the Church and develop their talents.

He said the stage play is also effective in showing the significance of Holy Week.

Parochial vicar Father Jan Brian Samson, who also served as spiritual adviser to the performers, cried as he watched the Senakulo on Holy Tuesday.

The drama breathed new life into the words of the Lord’s passion, he added.

Father Nicanor Lalog II, chaplain of the nearby Our Lady of Fatima University, noted how the Senakulo allows the youth to give “their own interpretation of the Passion of Christ.”

“This is the word becoming flesh in them. This is the homily by the children,” Lalog told UCA News.

The children’s homily took on a different form in the City of Manila, another part of the capital region, where another modern-day Senakulo took place on Holy Wednesday.

At the National Shrine and Parish of Our Lady of Loreto, the Senakulo interpreted the Passion of Christ in the light of modern-day problems such as poverty, disinformation, and the violence caused by former president Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs.

The performers would first show the traditional scenes in the Passion of Christ, such as the scribes and Pharisees making false accusations against him.

Then, the performers would depict how similar forms of suffering afflict ordinary people today. Thousands of drug suspects, for instance, were killed in Duterte’s war on drugs without having been able to defend themselves before a court of law.

Father Eric Adoviso, parish priest of Our Lady of Loreto, told UCA News that they chose this approach because of the intricate link between the time of Jesus and the modern day.

“The things that happened to Jesus still happen today,” Adoviso said.

‘A bright future’

When asked about the drug war references possibly stirring controversy, the priest emphasized that the Church’s teaching is simple — “Thou shalt not kill” — and the Church should always stand by this teaching.

Jesus himself, he added, was a victim of the death penalty, which the Church opposes.

In any case, Adoviso said their parish is happy about youth involvement in their Senakulo.

“We want our Church to be inclusive,” the Filipino priest said.

Bryan Agir, the script manager of this year’s Senakulo at Loreto, said he was in awe of their stage play this year.

“I see a bright future, a bright present,” Agir told UCA News. “To see young people responding to such works of the Church — especially because the reward is not too big, sometimes even immaterial — fills us with hope.” – UCA News

By Joseph Masilamany

FOR Tran Thi Phuong Hoa, the journey to the Catholic faith did not begin in a church, but in an English classroom.

Born into a Buddhist family, Hoa grew up “without paying much attention to religion” because of Vietnam’s largely secular setting.

As she prepares to be baptised during this Easter Vigil at St Anne’s Minor Basilica in Penang diocese, the 35-year-old woman recalled how the journey began in 2015, when she decided to improve her English to better her prospects.

Such classes in Vietnam are expensive, but she found a free English class run by Filipino Christians. “They welcomed everyone,” she recalls.

“They taught with sincerity and even provided food and drinks. I could see their kindness and generosity. They treated everyone equally.”

One video shown in class stayed with her — the passion and resurrection of Jesus, ending with a simple question: Where is God?

“But I felt something,” she says. It was a small stirring — but it lingered.

Love and miracles

Years later, Hoa met Borneo-born Bexter Lim through work. Although he was based in Penang, his job frequently took him to Vietnam.

“He showed me what it means to believe in God,” Hoa says. On their first dinner — a Friday — he abstained from meat.
“He told me marriage is a commitment for life,” she says. She would learn it was part of his Catholic learning. By that time, she had already begun attending Mass with him.

At the church, “people were kind, and the sermons touched me.” But the old question returned: Who is God?

With Lim’s help, Hoa enrolled for catechumen classes in Penang diocese in early 2025, hoping to attend monthly classes by traveling to Malaysia.

On her third visit, immigration officials in Malaysia stopped her. Since she was not married to a Malaysian, they said she could only visit the country every three months, not every month.

Hoa and Lim then took a decisive step. They registered their marriage on Aug 25, 2025.

Yet further challenges followed.

A name error on her birth certificate, combined with administrative changes in Vietnam, delayed the processing of her documents. Officials initially refused to process them.
“I felt like giving up,” she admits.

Then, unexpectedly, an officer whose wife is Christian stepped forward. “He said he believed in God and wanted me to have the chance to learn,” she recalls.

Within two weeks, the issue was resolved. “It was a miracle,” Hoa said.

A name, a grace remembered

Jennifer Cornelius-Gasper, one of her catechists at St Anne’s Minor Basilica, told UCA News, Hoa’s journey reflected both commitment and community.

Hoa’s catechumen program, officially known as the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, in the diocese lasts about nine months. However, pre-catechumenate sessions usually begin earlier.

Hoa “showed a deep desire to understand the faith and remained committed throughout,” she said.

Cornelius-Gasper noted that Hoa built a strong rapport with fellow candidates and catechists, and her “Catholic life centers on relationships, sharing struggles and moments of grace.”

Hoa has taken Anne as her baptismal name, to remember the patron saint of St Anne’s Minor Basilica in Bukit Mertajam, Lim’s parish church and the first Catholic church she stepped into with curiosity.

From a free classroom in Vietnam to a compassionate officer who intervened at the right moment, she believes her story carries a pattern of grace and divine guidance.

As the Easter Vigil approaches, “My heart is full of expectation,” she says.

“I feel stronger,” she says. “Less afraid of life’s challenges.

“I am not only ready to become Catholic, but ready to become part of God’s miracle,” she says when asked how she plans to live out her Catholic faith. – UCA News