Just came back from a memorial service held for the cadavres (cadaver...whichever) in the anatomy dissection room. It was a very unsual experience. Throughout the year, i have been having quite a bit of fun in the dissection room, poking and probing my way through the body parts of Mr X, sometimes flippantly and carelessly. At other times, I was just trying to concentrate and getting my facts right. But most of the time, i was desensitised. Mr X was just a body. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. But today, it was different. Went into the dissection filled with caskets. some family members at the side. And mostly students...a motley bunch with different attires...some sober...some loud...and some insensitive to the occasion. But, the service was beautiful. A non denominational service was held, with the chaplain of the university staff leading it. Everyone prayed, listened and said the Lord's prayer together. I was fairly moved. Despite the diverse backgrounds all of us came from, be it muslim or jew or whatever, somehow, death just has a way of unifying all of us. Everyone recognised the sobriety of death, and paid a respectable amount of gratitude to the ones who so sacrificially donated their bodies for the advancement of OUR knowledge of anatomy. I think some of us must have felt bad. I did feel a little...for taking lightly the good intentions of the people...and for taking lightly the importance of MY own knowledge of anatomy. I'm thinking it's just facts that i have to learn. But i didn't realise that people actually view my knowledge as so crucial that they wouldn't mind me butchering and mutilating their bodies after they die. A sobering thought.
 
  And on the spiritual side, as i said, death is a unifying factor in human experience. We can talk about creation vs evolution, montheism vs pantheism, theism vs atheism, objectivism vs relativism, and all the isms there are. but at the end of the day, when everyone has to face the inevitable exit of man's life, it forces us to reevaluate what truth is, what meaning life holds for us, and what our response can be to things that are greater than life itself. another sobering thought.

  That's about it. A day of reflection and contemplation...although exams are just round the corner. Well, i guess it was good for me to realise that there is a higher calling than just sitting for exams and showing how much i know...that i have much to contribute in the future, though the present seems difficult. That's a really good thought.

Graham Kendrick leading P&W



Caravan mates

Nice caravan...fully furnished

Siesta...after attending a string of Bible talks

  Going for a Christian retreat tomorrow till next thurs. It's called word alive...held in skegness every year. Yes, skegness IS a name of a place. Don't ask me where it is...i just know it's north of where i am. Well, i'll see whether i've things to say after coming back. It's a bit pathetic if my blogdrive actually reveals my thoughtlife, or the substance of my mind. hmmm...i guess i better work on it.

  Bloody, gory, and terribly obscene...Yes, I simply must admit that 'the passion of the Christ' is not a pleasant show, in the superficial sense. Before watching the movie, I came across tons of reviews, from newspapers, webpages, news etc, mostly expressing contempt and disgust at the overwhelmingly graphical depiction of Christ's death. Anti-semitism, excessive violence, heresies...the cloud of controversy surrounding this film certainly is thick and gloomy. Even certain quarters of Christians claim that it does not reflect the true message of the Gospel.

  Now, being a follower of Jesus Christ, what do I make of this film? I would like to be objective about it, viewing it from a third party's point of view, rather than an insider with apparent intentions and agendas. But the fact is, I cannot. No matter how much I try, I cannot brush aside the story of the crucifixion of Christ. Time and again, I'm reminded of the ultimate sacrifice. From partaking the holy communion in church, to explaining to people why I believe in the Christian faith. But, no matter how powerful the message, it dulls my senses, especially my emotional faculties.

  The first time I truly understood the gospel, was at a time when I still thought that I was a Christian. I went to church, I prayed, I read the Bible, I wanted to bring my friends to church...but to be honest, I did it because I thought it to be a good thing. A fine thing, a noble notion. Something my parents taught me, something I felt that I needed to follow. BUt it did not mean much to me. I was loyal to it, just as much as I am loyal to my parents. But till that day, when I was 14, after listening to a simple illustration about Jesus' sacrifice for us, I went back to my room, and suddenly saw the condition of my own soul. My own life. My wrongdoing. My unworthiness. It is for all my faults and sins and disobedience that Christ died as well. I cried. And I asked God for forgiveness. Although I have confessed my sins numerous times, and said the sinner's prayer more than once, I realised that I finally meant what I said. I finally crossed the line.

  From that day, the story of Jesus meant much more to me. Every time I 'ate the bread, and drank the cup', I took it with conviction. I sang songs about the cross, and found new meaning to reading the Bible. But as time went by, I found it hard to relive the emotional experience. The death of Christ took an intellectual meaning, and I found it difficult to go to the cross like I first did.

  I sat down just now, right at the 3rd front row of seats. The cineplex was fairly packed. I was filled with anticipation. I have read about the initiation of this project in 'time' magazine one or two years back. Mel Gibson finding back his religious roots. The bold step of taking everything upon himself to produce the movie. Yes, I have been fairly excited about it. However, right after viewing the show, I did not find myself in a pool of tears, nor with a box of tissue. I just came away, without any special feeling. In actual fact, I have been subconsciously trying to 'manufacture' feelings. Trying to feel the sorrow that Jesus felt. Wanting to feel sympathy and sadness. But I could not produce it. Scripture verses came to me. I thought that might help make me feel spiritual. It did not. But at the point when Jesus was flogged, the reality of Christ's suffering came to me. The cinematography and visual effects did make it all the more dramatic. The stripes on Jesus' body looked authentic. The point where the hooks were caught on Jesus' side, tearing out his flesh the next moment when it was lifted was gruesome. The entire affair was soaked in blood, drenched in blood, filled with blood. I wondered for a moment, why does it have to be so dramatic, so realistic? I found my own instincts disagreeing with the graphical depiction...the gore...the blood...the sadistic tormentors. But what I really felt inside, was something rising up, readily affirming, and agreeing to the validity of the scenes I saw. The words that I read about Jesus being flogged, being humiliated and tortured, seemed to leap out of the pages when I saw the entire process in action. And somehow, the suffering of Christ took on the centre stage.

  Why should the suffering of Christ be something that I should feel so strongly about? Why can't Jesus be the sunday school iconography of smiles and sunshine? Why must it be all torture and torment? I became drawn to the person Jesus while watching the film. Somehow, it's the suffering that brings out the sacrifice. It's the pain that pulls people towards the value of our ransom. It's all the torture that shows how much God loves us.

  Indeed, it's a very unusual experience for me, watching the passion of the Christ in a cinema. But regardless of the reviews and what people say, I'd certainly support the film, for it brings the message of the gospel to life again, in a generation that needs a fresh understanding of Jesus Christ.

Great...I was just starting to right some very profound stuff about rhythm in everyday activity...from playing badminton to crooning out a piece of music to mastering icq sumo volleyball...and I clicked on something else and that was the end of my pulitzer prize winning essay. Great. My skepticism towards blogging has just increased a 1000 fold. Thanks to technology.

Decided to succumb to my herd instinct by entering into the world of bloggers. Why? I don't really have a clue, but I just woke up today with lots of thoughts in my mind. I wanted to put all of it on paper, but decided that it takes too much trouble. In fact, I keep a journal. A very private, personal journal. Although I'm terribly inconsistent, it provides a very good platform for me to translate intangible thoughts into concrete words...I need an outlet, an avenue, a sounding board where I can allow my wandering, and wondering mind to gush out random ideas, observations and silly theories. I've always been very opposed to the idea of revealing my life to the outside world. Anybody with a good internet connection can have access to my deepest secrets...( I must admit I've been snooping around reading other people's affairs )...I sometimes think that this whole blogging phenomenon is birthed by a circle of powerful people planning to take over the world...some federal agency, secret service, CIA, FBI...or whatever. Who needs to tap phone lines or plant bugging devices? Just check their blogs. They might just give a very detailed account of how they managed to assemble a nuclear bomb. But then again, I shan't be too cynical or skeptical about the whole issue. I'd be too conceited to think that I've got very interesting things to say...some headline grabbing discovery...or some deep metaphysical observation. So well, I've decided to skip the personal bits of life...probably put down random thoughts and ideas...probably publish it publicly once in a while...when I want to 'let go'...Yes, I know it sounds terribly graphic, but I'll still call my blogging experience a - mental diarrhoea. Who knows where it might lead to  :P