Jeremiah 17:5-8 / 1 Cor 15:12, 16-20 / Luke 6:17, 20-26
The festive celebrations have finally come to an end on the 15th day which was last Wednesday.
With that, it means the popular “Lo Hei” will disappear from the menu. Anyway we also have had enough of it.
The glaring red decorations are also taken down and those New Year songs are also taken off the air.
So, it is back to life and back to reality.
But what about those well wishes that we exchanged, like, “Gong Xi Fa Cai”.
Will those well wishes turn into reality, or are they just festive formalities.
Certainly, we wish that we will be happy in the year ahead. We also wish for the good things in life, like, health and wealth.
So, we look forward for our wishes to come true, for others as well as for ourselves.
And of course, we don't want anything bad or sad to happen.
In the gospel passage, Jesus talked about happiness. But His teaching on happiness does not seem to go along with our understanding of happiness.
In fact, the teaching of Jesus on happiness is like a contradiction for us.
How can it be happy when we are hungry and sad. And why would it be bad or sad to be rich, or filled, or laughing.
This gospel message is strange, and no wonder it wasn't used for the Chinese New Year Mass, even though it has the word happiness in it.
So, what is the gospel truth here. Well, the gospel truth is this: That life is so ironic.
It takes sadness to know what happiness is, noise to appreciate silence, and absence to value presence.
But we don't like the bad and sad. In fact, we fear it. This is where faith comes in.
Fear says “what if”. But faith says “even if”.
I would like to share this story about “The last bouquet of carnations”, and for ease of narration I will narrate it in the first person.
When Mom passed away, she didn't forget to remind me of one thing.
"Mother's Day is coming. Remember to send flowers. And remember to send them every year, never forget!"
I nodded, understanding that what Mom meant was for me to send flowers to a woman named Doreen.
Doreen wasn't a relative, nor a close friend, and certainly not a regular customer. I didn’t understand why Mom was so insistent on this, even at the end of her life, making sure to remind me to send flowers to a stranger.
The older generation hold onto all sorts of illogical things, and can’t even explain why they do certain things. And yet they continue doing the same thing year after year.
Annie, who had been working in our store for a long time, said that sending flowers to Doreen had been a practice since we were little. Mom used to manage the flower shop herself. One day, a girl came in to order flowers, wanting to send them to a woman named Doreen. From that day on, Mom started sending flowers every year, even though that girl never came back and had only paid for one bouquet.
Back when Mom was the shop owner, she could send flowers to anyone she wanted, even if she didn’t get paid. But now, since Mom's health started deteriorating, I took over the flower shop.
For the past twenty years, Mom had always stuck to a certain way of doing things, never wanting to change the store. Of course, Mom was excellent at flower arranging, keeping the old customers coming, but she couldn’t attract new ones.
Sometimes, when a large client from a hotel came in, they would leave simply because we didn’t have a proper catalogue to show them.
I didn’t want our flower shop to eventually become a tourist attraction or a museum. I was planning to renovate it and get rid of some of the old habits Mom had, like giving special treatment to regular customers and their families, friends, and so on.
What could we earn from a single bouquet? How many times would a customer come back in a year? They were always trying to get something for nothing, especially when they saw a woman like Mom, so kind and naive. Everyone took advantage of her! The habit of sending flowers to Doreen seemed unnecessary too, though I had promised Mom I would continue doing it.
Annie was in a state of panic about my “big reform,” looking lost, and I could tell that if it had been Mom, her face would’ve looked just as pale.
"Are you really not going to send flowers to Doreen?" she asked.
I replied, "The flower shop is a business. If we don’t make money, you won’t even have a job!"
Annie looked around at the newly renovated flower shop, speaking hesitantly. Everything that once felt familiar seemed strange now.
Then Annie said, "I understand what you mean. Even if we don’t send flowers anymore... the last time should be done. Doreen has been receiving flowers every year, and it will be odd if no one comes this time. At least we should let her know not to wait anymore."
Her reasoning wasn’t entirely wrong. I thought at least I should go and see what kind of woman had attracted Mom to send flowers to her every year. I would explain that Mom was gone, and that the "practice" had to end.
Annie had arranged the carnations, with light purple forget-me-nots and white baby’s breath, a big beautiful bouquet. It was as lovely as it could be.
On Mother’s Day, I ran all over Singapore before finally reaching Doreen’s house, when the sun was setting.
As soon as I rang the doorbell, I heard something being knocked over inside.
An old woman with hunched shoulders and white hair opened the door.
I expected her to be surprised, thinking she would be shocked to see me instead of Mom, who had been sending flowers every year.
But she didn’t react at all. Instead, she smiled at me.
"You’re here. Come in quickly!" Her words were filled with eager excitement.
"You always come early, so I made jasmine tea, just the way you like it. But now... it’s cold." The old woman walked toward the table to pick up the teapot. "I’ll heat it up, it won’t take long."
Then I finally saw her eyes, which seemed frozen, not turning. No wonder she hadn’t "noticed" me … she can’t see me.
"Thank you, but that’s not necessary. You are Doreen, right?"
The old woman froze, gripping the teapot tightly in her hands, standing still.
"My mom has passed away. I’m here to deliver the last bouquet of flowers for her." I stepped forward and handed her the flowers.
She took the flowers excitedly, gently caressing them.
"The last bouquet of carnations? ...Thank you." She nodded and smiled, bringing the flowers close to her nose, inhaling the scent. A sudden sense of loss filled the wrinkles on her face...
Then she said, “Twenty years ago, a girl had ordered a bouquet of flowers to surprise her mother for Mother’s Day, but tragically, on the way home, a careless driver took her young life. Every year, I’ve held on just to wait for this bouquet of flowers!"
I had never imagined that such an ordinary bouquet could keep a life hanging on, a mother who had almost given up, heartbroken and blind from grief.
I realised I didn't know my Mom well.
It was already dark when I returned to the flower shop, and Annie was still there, nervously asking me: "Did you deliver the flowers? Did you explain that you won’t be sending them anymore?"
I looked at Annie, and said, "I will keep sending them. From now on, I’ll send them every day. Carnations, everyday!"
Yes, it takes sadness to know what happiness is.
But we need not fear sadness and ask “what if”.
Rather, with faith, let us say “even if”.
So, even if we are poor and hungry, let us be like carnation flowers for others.
When we can help others to be happy, then we too will be happy.
This is what our Lord Jesus promised us.