OCTOBER 16 — Earlier, she appeared in a hospital window; now she simply grew taller in church. Three years ago, she emerged as through a glass darkly; this week she became the envy of all aspiring basketball players.
Some call them goddesses. Some call them signs. Some call them demonic. Others call them bird poop or a fountain illusion. I’m just glad they showed up.
Our Ladies of Subang. Beauty in glass and porcelain.
For all their ambiguity, they’re a far better sight than red-shirted racists or VIPs talking about slapping members of other ethnicities or, uh, any photo of Miley Cyrus.
And yet the doubts persist. Are they nothing but a source of superstition? Are Our Ladies of Subang merely magnets for desperate religious folks craving for the irrefutable?
Some have argued that they are there only because people “see” them there; the alleged height-elevations or polyresin-to-porcelain transformations, on this view, are a hoax by minds who will believe anything. It’s all crap constructed from sick imaginations and a crowd’s desire to see what they (have always) want(ed) to see.
The anti-God camp, needless to say, is having a lotta fun.
But is this right? Even without drawing a conclusion of the nature of what happened at St Thomas More’s church, are the comments fair?
I think not.
Many who mock the worshippers praying at the church (or, in 2012, outside the hospital) simultaneously have no problem believing in the grandiose promises and practices of CEOs and business gurus. It hardly seems to bother us that a lotta “financial experts” are usually one economic cycle away from losing everything. The entire economy feeds hope, vanity and pride to buyers who will never have enough because they have closed themselves off to the very idea of Enough.
Is this not insane?
What’s the difference between a woman praying to a statue placed in a grotto, and another woman paying to make herself look like an image in a magazine? Isn’t there a resemblance between the man who stares in awe at an outline of a holy figure and another man who stares at management books or stock numbers like they were holy books promising new life?
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For every “foolish” person who reveres a smiling or crying or self-growing Mary, aren’t there at least 10 more dumb get-rich-at-all-costs who go through life revering the faces on Property Investment Seminar banners?
If those praying at the church “fountain” or (three years ago) at the hospital have lost a grip on reality, let’s agree they’re hardly alone.
Our Ladies of Subang, then, are not merely divine symbols; they also symbolise how we “divinize” what is less than divine. In a world ruled by money, power and vanity, shouldn’t we welcome the visual mystery of a woman who trusted in one who loved her?
Plus, anyone who’s read the Bible also knows that Mary’s Christmassy song (in the Gospel of Luke) has some pretty cool lyrics about corrupt governments getting kicked out of office — a dimension often covered over by Christians more concerned about the size of the offering fund.
Speaking of politics, Our Lady has some lessons for election candidates. 1) Surprise the people 2) Be available day and night and 3) Don’t talk so much.
Of course, such apparitions or “enhancements” are inconclusive. But, c’mon, even if the statue jumped out of the box and recited (in Latin) everything the Second Vatican Council agreed on, it’s hardly the case that Malaysia will turn Roman Catholic overnight.
Doubt — like its Siamese twin, Belief — comes to us seemingly hard-wired. This is why only one kind of group holds to the complete negation of doubt: Fundamentalists. As for the rest of us? We’re sorta stuck with faith.
Faith. This is what Our Ladies of Subang can mean for the country, not just Roman Catholics. She can be that enigma which represents what has to but can not be represented.
She could mean the democracy we know our country’s leaders have smothered so badly even imagining it takes serious effort. She could mean the harmony among the races everybody pretends exists yet knows is weak if not impossible. She could mean equality and hope for the poor, hardly anything but a dream in a nation aroused by thoughts of the GDP growing 4.5 per cent. “In GDP We Trust” — who’s foolish now?
In a sense, Our Lady is like the people of Malaysia. Try to define “Malaysian” and it won’t be long before you have to say that a Malaysian is, well, someone in Malaysia who believes it’s important to be a Malaysian. Not much improvement beyond the word itself, but no less to be treasured for that.
And there’s another thing I like about Our Two Ladies: They simply don’t know how to coerce or pressure people. They’re not out to tell you how deficient you are that a new shirt or shoe becomes a critical must-buy. They won’t scare you with tales of possible bodily harm such that buying insurance from her becomes a moral obligation. They have no interest in converting you to some dubious idea of Success which quietly crowds out everything else of importance.
Our Two Ladies, therefore, can mean nothing more than the joy of believing in something above ourselves.
Should it be concluded, then, that our feminine statues or apparitions are “of God”? In the final analysis, I don’t think so. But you know what? I don’t think God minds very much.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
