William Cardinal Goh The Shepherd's Voice

As we journey into Lent, the Scriptures confront us with a fundamental question: What does your life consist of? Moses sets before us two choices: life and prosperity, or death and disaster. While we all desire life, we often mistake it for wealth, power, and worldly success. Yet Jesus challenges us: What does it profit a person to gain the whole world and lose oneself?
True life is not found in possessions or status, but in loving God, listening to His voice, serving others, and embracing even the crosses of daily life. When we live for others and make a difference in their lives, we discover a joy no money can buy. True life is found not in what we accumulate, but in how we love.

Reflection Question: In my daily choices, what truly defines my life and how is the Lord be inviting me this Lent to choose a deeper, more lasting kind of life?

In today’s fast-paced world, many people feel unheard, the elderly, the young, even those closest to us. In today’s Gospel, Jesus heals the deaf man not with a distant command, but with personal care. He takes him aside, touches him, sighs in prayer, and says, “Ephphatha.”
Jesus shows us that true healing begins with sensitivity and respect. In contrast, the division of the kingdom after Rehoboam refused to listen to his people reminds us that when leaders fail to hear the cries of those entrusted to them, relationships fracture and communities break apart.
Whether it is the elderly repeating their stories, the young struggling to articulate their fears, or colleagues nursing silent frustrations, unheeded pain does not disappear, it deepens. To listen is not a waste of time; it is an act of restoration. It is how Christ continues to heal hearts through us.

Reflection Question: Whom in my life might the Lord be inviting me to truly “take aside” and listen to with patience and compassion this week?

We live in a cosmopolitan world where cultures, religions, and worldviews constantly meet. Like King Solomon, we may benefit from openness, collaboration, and exchange; yet we also learn from his downfall that prosperity without fidelity can slowly erode identity. The same forces that enrich us can also weaken us if we are not anchored.

Jesus shows a better way. He reaches beyond boundaries to the Gentile woman, seeing her first as a child of God. He teaches us to welcome others with compassion, while remaining rooted in truth. We are called to be inclusive, yet firm in faith; open to dialogue, yet anchored in Christ.

Reflection Question: In engaging people of different cultures and beliefs, how can I remain deeply rooted in Christ while allowing these encounters to purify and enrich my faith rather than weaken it?

King Solomon began his reign not by asking for power, wealth, or glory, but for a discerning heart to serve his people. Because his heart was rightly ordered, God granted him wisdom and blessed him with peace and honour as well. Yet his life also reminds us that when the heart strays from God, everything begins to crumble. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us that true purity and peace come not from external observance alone, but from a heart transformed within. Whether we serve in ministry, leadership, or daily family life, the real question is this: are we cultivating a living spiritual life? Without prayer, without conversion, without reconciliation, we risk becoming efficient but empty. God does not only ask for our work, He asks for our heart. When our hearts are purified and anchored in Him, we rediscover peace, clarity, and the joy of serving.

Reflection Question: Where in my life do I need God to give me a more discerning and undivided heart?

God does not need a temple, for the whole universe belongs to Him. Yet, out of compassion and love, He chooses to make His presence tangible through signs, symbols, and sacred spaces, because we are human beings who need sacramentals to encounter the divine. The Temple, like our churches and chapels today, becomes a place of rest, prayer, forgiveness, and consolation. As the psalmist proclaims, “How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, God of hosts.” Even standing at the threshold of God’s house is better than living in comfort without peace.

Yet the deepest truth remains: God’s true dwelling place is not only in buildings, but in us. We are the temples of the Holy Spirit. When our hearts are generous, open, and enlarged by love, God finds a home within us, and we begin to experience heaven even now. Jesus reminds us that traditions and sacramentals are valuable only when they serve love — love of God and love of neighbour. Traditions are meant to connect, not to burden; to heal, not to oppress. They must always remain faithful to their purpose: drawing us closer to God and to one another.

Reflection Question: Is my heart a welcoming dwelling place for God, and do the traditions I practise help me love God and others more deeply?