Cecilia Tan, 29 May 2025
Cecilia, who has shared her story on this blog before, has offered this powerful poem and its explanation to continue the conversation after the death of one Pope and the naming of another. It was written for Good Shepherd Sunday. Thank you, Cecilia!
These are extraordinary times. The world mourned when beloved Pope Francis died, then held its breath through the papal conclave. When white smoke announced Pope Leo XIV—a gifted polyglot—we collectively sighed with hope. Perhaps this Pope could bridge our fractured world, torn by political division, even within our Church.
We can be numb to the painful reality of war across 54 countries: Gaza, Myanmar, Sudan, Ethiopia, Ukraine, to name the most obvious ones, and to the depth of human suffering in our own families, in our neighbourhood, our communities.
The readings for Good Shepherd/Vocation Sunday, coincidentally falling on Mother’s Day, seem serendipitously appropriate. Much has been commented about Pope Leo XIV being a polyglot, with comparisons on how Pope Francis communicated plainly, authentically, and perhaps by some accounts, too abruptly. In the light of growing global authoritarianism, one can almost sense an almost collective desire as we waited out the interim sede vacante, for a Pope such as Leo, to be a counter-point to, or as some others in the Church would have it, a return or restoration of the Church to what it was pre-Vatican II. We all had a wish list as to the kind of pope suitable for our times.
The Pope does wield immense authority and power. But no single leader, however gifted, can shoulder the entire burden of healing. The readings from Acts 13, Apocalypse 7:9, and John 10:27-30, this Vocation Sunday, affirm this point, while pointing to the responsibility and power each has to tangibly and collaboratively do our part to communicate genuinely to the demands of our times. In embodying the liturgy we celebrate every time, our lives and our world are consecrated.
In Acts 13, we are ‘commanded’ and reminded of the central meaning and purpose of our particular and communal vocation: “I have made you a light for the nations, so that my salvation may reach the ends of the earth.”(Acts 13) The recurrent notion of diversity of peoples and languages as gifts to be celebrated is revealed in Apocalypse 7-9. And the hope of healing, the reassurance that we ‘will never be lost’ is always there if we listen, is explicit in John 10: 27-30.
If, like me, you do feel overwhelmed at times, I hope this personal poem that I share with you brings some consolation that we are not helpless or powerless.
A POLYGLOT
A polyglot
I am not
In languages spoken
And written
Yet speak I do
And quite eloquently so in
The language
Of the heart
Of the body...
A touch
A smile
A hug
A wave
A giggle
A boisterous laugh...
I speak
Through
Slumped shoulders
Dragging feet
Tears...
A look
Revealing the depth
Of my soul
If you dare to
Care to
Notice
I have mastered
The eye roll
The face palm
The silent stare that I can hold
Without so much as a blink if necessary
Communicating more than a torrent
Of a thousand words bubbling over incoherently when something displeases -
A skill honed through
Being mother, teacher, wife, woman
I speak through thoughts
often silently yet deadly
in my head or
Alone
In my room away from prying eyes
In the presence of
My God
My ears straining to
listen, listen, listen...
At such times my body tenses
Doubles over
Ending in a tight fetal coil seeking
Release
When the raging and ranting
And renting of my soul’s garment
Of repressed
suppressed emotions
End
I lie spent
To be greeted by your ancient words
As if falling
from above
Only to emerge
As an almost imperceptible
Whisper
from deep within:
Before you were you
I knew you
You are mine.
Listen…
Go.
11 May 2025
Good Shepherd ‘s Sunday
Mother’s Day
Cecilia Francisco-Tan, PhD
Liturgy on the Margins 