Pentecost comes to us this Sunday, 23 May – a time when all things are renewed; we remain, basically, the same, but with the added purification of a complete renewal. A good analogy would be when we come in from some hard work, stained with mud, our bodies tired and in some discomfort after all the sweat and toil, and we can’t wait to get out of our old, dirty and rather smelly clothes, put them to the wash and then the treat of a lovely hot shower and change of clothes.  How wonderful to feel everything new and fresh!

In the readings at daily Mass this week we have had the Gospel from St. John (Chapter 17). Some long time ago I learned the Chapter by heart, and so it is very familiar.  Within it, Jesus says some rather extraordinary things; they are very new and revolutionary and in some ways strange; however, they leave us with an awareness of the Holy Spirit. For instance, “I have finished the work that you gave me to do”. Jesus finished his work, presumably, in a perfect fashion, yet it would seem that his work was a ‘failure’. After all he was condemned to death as a criminal, he was deserted by all his followers except his mother, some women friends of Jesus and his mother, and one of his male disciples – the ‘one that Jesus loved’. This apparent conflict, involving success / failure, is just another revelation that the ways of God are certainly not the ways of the world, and that our human, and often clumsy, categorization cannot help us to understand the ways of God!  Just to illustrate the point, it is possibly the case that  many a man or woman, coming to the end of their lives, may seem not to have achieved much in the ‘eyes of the world’, yet are told by Jesus “Well done, my brother or sister, you have completed the work that God our Father wanted of you”.   I cannot conceive of a more wonderful welcome and greeting!

A second ‘mysterious’ part of this Chapter of St. John’s Gospel reads: “Now at last they know that all you have given me comes indeed from you; for I have given them the teaching you gave to me, and they have truly accepted this, that I came from you, and have believed that it was you who sent me”.  Accepting the truth of this statement, one is left to question how could the Apostles – those of whom Jesus is writing – have behaved in the way they did, at the capture of Jesus in the Garden of Olives through to his crucifixion? It may be a great consolation to us – the followers of Jesus, two millennia later – to know that these ‘pillars’ of the Church ran away and hid, but that does not answer the question about why they acted as they did, when according to Jesus, they believed that Jesus was the one whom God had sent into our world. Perhaps, the Holy Spirit wants us to understand that our doubting – our failure to follow Jesus as we think we should, with massive mistakes in our own lives, or in the lives of others around us – are no reason to turn away from Him. No, it is part of a bigger plan in which God is working out his purposes and, just as Jesus appeared to the ‘miserable’ and ‘disgraced’ apostles, after his Resurrection, so He is continually coming to us, through ALL the events of our lives – if only we can stop and find the space, and peace, to recognise Him.

I want to point to a third part of this Chapter that is also puzzling: “Holy Father, keep those you have given me true to your name, so that they may be one like us”. Here Jesus is referring to the apostles. Jesus goes on to re-affirm his prayer and desire for unity: “Holy Father, I pray not only for these, but for those also who through their words will believe in me. May they all be one. Father, may they be one in us as you are in me and I am in you.”   Ultimately, this Unity is for ALL people – at first glance a ‘non-starter’ when we see how divided people are – but a start must be made, somewhere, and all Christians, of the many and varied denominations are a ‘band’ of people that have ‘heard’ the words of the apostles. In fulfilment of the prayer of Jesus, it is a very good thing for these Christians, from different churches, to come together and grow into greater unity – whatever that means?  In my view, this, surely, would benefit the whole human race, and not just the cause of Christian Unity.

Still, there remains a big challenge. I remember times when my soldier father was stationed in Trieste, Northern Italy, in the early 1950’s and all of our family were with him. He had a certain authority and position within the British Armed Forces stationed there, especially within his regiment, “The Royal Engineers”. My father, let it be said, was a soldier through and through, loyal, committed to his country and to his duty; he was also a very strong Catholic.  At a military parade – one religious part of which required all present, soldiers and guests – to pray the ‘Our Father’, we were enjoined by my Father, as Catholics, not to join in,  because the Padre would lead the prayers according to the Church of England point of view – with ‘different’ words for the ‘Lord’s Prayer’. As a young boy, I remember, my own beliefs were very much that Catholics followed the ‘whole’ truth, and that Protestants were wrong, and their only hope was to become Catholics, one day. Our task as a (Catholic) Church, in those days, was to work and pray for the conversion of England – conversion to the one, true and (Catholic) Faith.

Since those far-off days, I have met many Christians from many other denominations, often finding them to be ‘better’ people than myself, and certainly often imbued with that essential virtue – ‘love’ – which marks them as a follower of God. Add to this, the fact that I have made many friends from other Christian Churches, with whom I feel more united, sometimes, than with fellow Catholics, and the weight of evidence begins to show me just how wrong my childish beliefs were. The ‘Unity’ that Jesus prayed for, in this famous Chapter 17 of St. John, is now entering into that category of paradoxes that makes this Chapter of the Gospel so extraordinarily interesting. In this ‘change of heart’ I should add that I am not any less of a Catholic now, than I once was: if anything, I feel a stronger Catholic, but I hope, one who is less arrogant, and one endowed with a bit more of the Spirit of Jesus. The Holy Spirit, guiding me in joyful dialogue with others, has enriched my life that once lacked this dimension.

It has been during the past 35 years in particular, that interest in the Unity of all Christians has become second nature to me. In fact, without forcing matters at all, the search for Christian unity has become a priority. Speaking to a local Anglican vicar, recently, he confessed to me that it was not a priority for him. Neither is Christian unity a priority for the large majority of my fellow Catholics and yet, although it is slow and difficult process to convince people to ‘put themselves out in the cause of Christian Unity’ it is a ‘given’ for me, that it will be along this path that our Churches will proceed in the future. It has often ‘struck’ me that division belongs to the past – unity to the future.

Archbishop Rowan Williams with the Pope

On this coming Saturday, 22nd May, therefore, it is a joy for me – beyond words – that we are holding, in our Church, at the request of Churches Together in Lancashire, a celebration of praise to honour the Centenary of the Ecumenical Movement. This all began in Edinburgh, at a conference held there in 1910, and now all over the world, there will be these centennial celebrations of the 1910 event. There are two for Lancashire, organised by Churches Together in Lancashire. One is at the Ecumenical Chaplaincy at Lancaster University on Friday night, 21st May. The second – and, certainly, the larger one – takes place here in Leyland, on Saturday, 22nd May – the Vigil of Pentecost. There are many who are prepared to ‘go the extra yard’ in the cause of singing, at least, and who have been practicing for the celebration of praise that will take place at St. Mary’s, this Saturday. Our ‘One Voice Choir’, supported by Churches Together in Leyland, and consisting largely of CTiL members, has swollen in numbers so that it is three times larger than usual. At the Saturday afternoon Service, we will do what so many Christians of different denominations have been doing for the past 50 years – praying together to our wonderful God, who renews us – worshipping and adoring Him together, breaking out of the barriers of distrust, ignorance and prejudice that afflicted us not so many years ago, and celebrating the liberation that comes from God which has been ours now for the past 100 years.

The movement for Christian Unity is ‘down in the dumps’, however, from what people say. Year by year, it is more difficult to get people involved in official unity activities. Despite that, I see the love and care that exists among people from different denominations in Leyland, and in other places where relationships of friendship between people of different Churches, have been established. On this level, the ‘capillary’ level – there is much ‘life’ and ‘drive’ in the journey towards Christian Unity. Our event on Saturday is an example, and, like anything that is worthwhile, and under the vision and inspiration of the Holy Spirit, time, effort, and sacrifice of self have been given, in order that this good enterprise should bear fruit.

This Pentecost, the words of Mary from the Gospel of St. Luke come to mind.  Mary, the Mother of Jesus, is the person favoured by the Holy Spirit, as I reflect on the newness that God himself bestows on us. She is, actually, the model for the whole Church, as – in her – human life was given to our Saviour Jesus, and that is what the Church is meant to do, for all time, and throughout the future, to give life to Jesus for each generation by his spiritual presence among Christians.

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit exults in God my saviour; because he has looked upon his lowly handmaid …. for the almighty has done great things for me”.

May is, by long tradition, always called the month of Our Lady, Mary, the Mother of God, so defined at the Council of Ephesus, the 3rd Ecumenical Council of the Church in 431 A.D. She is absolutely central to the whole plan of salvation – as is simply obvious – for, without Mary, we would be without the Incarnate Word of God, Jesus, our Saviour. However, Mary – or our devotion to Mary – is often misunderstood, especially by our evangelical brothers and sisters, and these Christians, among others, can be very suspicious of our (Catholic) ‘worship’ of Mary. They know – and it is perfectly proper – that God alone is to be worshipped, adored, and thanked for the redemption. It is right that Mary should be given the very highest honour – and so she is – but she is not, and never can be, the same as God. She is, however, completely central to the process of our redemption, and in her role, she “had a share in it”. The author of the ‘Colossians’ gives insight into the central role of Mary: “I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ (Col 1:24).  For sure, Mary, at the foot of the Cross, was sharing in the sufferings of Jesus, her son.

   Theotokos of Vladimir              The Annunciation by Fra Angelico                   Theotokos of Kasar

There was a time when I found it not so easy to have a devotion to Mary. Reflecting on this today, after many years knowing how highly I now place her in my life, I am aware of the fact that she has protected me always, and I wonder at the reasons why I found it hard to relate to her. In contemplating this, one should bear in mind that interest in these things – my reactions, this way, and that – cover the last 49 years, that period of my life spent in the service of God as a monk, either as trainee or full member of the Ampleforth community. It was as a younger monk that it was not easy for me to relate to Our Lady. In those days, and right up today, Jesus was always the central figure – rather than Our Lady – and although each evening, after night prayers, we monks would sing an antiphon such as the “Salve Regina” (Hail Holy Queen) and go to visit her beautiful, yet simple, statue in the Lady Chapel of the big dark Abbey Church, for me, Mary did not ‘figure’ too much. Nowadays, Mary is central to me, together with Jesus, who is the only Saviour, because, with her help, we have our way to Jesus; she is our guarantor of the way to Jesus.

It may be true – as some would have it – that the devotions to Mary, within the Catholic Church, can be rather ‘sugary’ and ‘flowery’, rather too full of sentimentality. I was a young monk, surrounded by Englishmen who hid their emotions very well, and, there was I in their midst, conscious of being an emotional person and of putting aside reason, in a swell of emotion. Processions carrying statues of Our Lady,  the singing of repetitive hymns with simple words, were not favourites of mine; nor was the beautiful art work of Our Lady – statues with gorgeous apparel, with crowns on her head, the paintings of the baroque period – none of these appealed to me. Even Lourdes – with all its fame – did not attract me.

However, in 1971, the gift of priesthood came my way: I was at a ‘loose end’ during the holidays that year, and I decided to go to Lourdes as a kind of act of piety. What happened there is now a ‘blur’, but unless my memory deceives, the attraction of the young laymen and women, who joined the Ampleforth Pilgrimage, loomed larger than the religiosity that we engaged in. Also, there was a fair amount of ‘merry-making’ in the bars around Lourdes, and that was enjoyable. Furthermore, Lourdes, with its fast flowing River Gave, its pleasantly warm, balmy, nights is a place of romance, and this affected me too, even though I was a monk. So, it was most enjoyable for non-religious reasons, as well as some spiritual ones.

On that occasion, I met two lovely people from the ‘Leonard Cheshire Home’ at Godalming, Surrey. They were Paul and Hazel Hanson – real ‘southerners’, unable to walk, intelligent, but slow of speech; we ‘hit it off’ – ‘connected’ if you like – and I loved their ‘authentic’ attitude to life. Later, they helped me on my way, because, the following year, 1972, I went again to Lourdes. Paul and Hazel were there, and, in their company – more by way of conversation than by conviction – I uttered the rhetorical question: “Could you think of a better place to be than in Lourdes?” Hazel was the ‘quiet one’ of the pair, but Paul looked up at me from the wheel-chair and ‘took me on’ as he slowly replied: “Yes, actually, I prefer the Mariapolis”. From her silence, I could see Hazel nodding in agreement. Paul was the Catholic, Hazel the Anglican, and I think she found Lourdes and its ‘devotions’ and ‘piety’ shops, not at all ‘Anglican’ – a bit ‘much’ – a bit ‘over the top’. Paul’s reply, however, ‘went home’ – found its ‘mark’. I was already booked for the Mariapolis in 1972, but I reflected and pondered on what Paul had said.

Later that same month, July 1972, there I was, involved in that summer’s Mariapolis in Manchester, an event where Jesus is central to the experience of all, but Mary has her rightful place. It is called Mariapolis, (Town of Mary), because, if Jesus is present among two or three (or 500) gathered in his name, then Mary must also be there. Just as she gave birth to Jesus, literally, so she is involved, spiritually, in the birth of Jesus among people.   Rather strangely, we did not talk about Mary, the Mother of God, at all, in all the fun and games, and sharing and conversations; later I was to learn why, and, in a moment I will try to explain.  Before doing so, I must come back to Paul and Hazel, as it was perhaps not in that year, 1972, but certainly in other years in the 1970’s, I met Paul and Hazel at the annual Mariapolis, and once visited them in their ‘Cheshire Home’ at Godalming; our friendship continued. The couple later married and this was such a joy for them both, and Hazel also entered into full Communion with the Catholic Church. By now they have both gone to their heavenly reward, hopefully, to enjoy the never-ending and living joy of heaven, without their wheel-chairs.

Above I made the point that, at the Mariapolis in 1972, we did not talk much about Mary because she was always in the background, pointing to Jesus. I remember, in the next year, when Mary was linked to the ‘Word of God’ as a theme for the Mariapolis, underwritten by the quotation: “Be it done unto me according to thy Word”, a lady was to share, with all the people, her ‘experience’ about Mary. She went on to describe a beautiful view from a chalet, high up in the Alps, with beautiful meadows, cows ‘tinkling’ their ‘bells’, a valley, pine trees and a breath-taking view of further higher mountains topped with snow; she then pointed out that the big glass window was THE necessary ingredient. That window – she explained – is an image of Mary, making herself transparent, so that we could see Jesus, the beauty and grandeur of God. I learned, afterwards, that the lady was an Anglican – and an evangelical Anglican, at that!

Now, things began to make sense for me. Mary is the perfect disciple, the one who is so identified with Jesus that she is, simply, always living what we are taught in the Lord’s Prayer: “Thy will be done”. Mary is the spouse of Christ, as well as the mother; she, and her son, Jesus, are so close that they are in perfect harmony. We, as Church, are the spouse of Christ, and individually, we are too. Our task is not, simply, to be ‘souls’ who pray to Mary, who ask her to take our prayers to God, who run to her for help. Yes! We can do all those things – and they are good: but, our task, in a deeper sense, is to live the way she lived. Especially, and together with others, we must let her live in us, so that Jesus is born among us; thus, Jesus can be seen and shared with others. This exemplifies the saying of John of the Cross and puts it into practice: “Where there is no love, put love and then you will find love”. It means standing back, putting the other into the ‘limelight’, and letting them ‘shine’, just like the pane of glass and the beautiful view.

My whole ‘train’ of thought in this ‘Blog’ was prompted by something I read from Pope Benedict XVI, written when he was still Cardinal Ratzinger, about the Church. It is to be found in my little book with short quotations for priests in this Year for the Priest (9th May) under the title “The Church is Woman”

“The Church is not an apparatus; nor is it simply an institution…

She is “woman”.  She is mother.  She is living.

The Marian understanding of the Church is in the strongest and decisive contrast to any concept of Church as purely an organisation or a bureaucracy. We are unable to “build” the Church, we must be Church … It is only in being Marian that we become Church.

In its origin, the Church is born when the “fiat” (let it be done unto me) emerged from the soul of Mary. This is the most profound desire of the Vatican Council: that the Church is awakened in our souls.  Mary shows us the way.”

For the 10th of May, there is another short meditation, from the same book, entitled “The Marian Profile” – this time by Chiara Lubich.

“With Mary, the first lay woman in the Church, and with her spirituality of communion, the typical contribution that the Marian profile gives to the Church will grow; the Church will shine in the eyes of all as more beautiful, more holy more dynamic and more a family.

It will be a loving Church, welcoming, better equipped to face new frontiers: ecumenism, inter-religious dialogue, and dialogue with those who do not believe.

The Church will be ever renewed, with new vocations in it; she will be a charismatic Church, a Marian Church, stronger in its missionary work, stronger in its evangelising of all.

This will all be to God’s glory and to the glory of His Mother.”

I look and marvel at the wonders of Nature, the variety and order which exists right through all species of animal and plant life, including our own.   I look at the Universe and think of its complexity and the laws which hold it all together and of things that man has not, even yet, begun to understand. 

 Look for nature’s beauty in a raindrop.

Life-giving water that falls from heaven

To the earth below, raining tears upon

The daisy and the rose.  Nature’s elixir,

Enables ev’ry living cell upon earth’s sphere,

To birth, live and grow – gives volume to the

Falling river, and swells the seas, that wash

The sands on native shores.

I sit and begin to turn things over in my mind – things like size, distance, heat, water, light, atmosphere, vegetation, insect life, life in the skies, the seas and oceans of the world; of wind, hail, rain, ice and snow and the feeling of sunshine on a man’s back.   And of how all these ‘jig-saw’ pieces connect, one with another and everything interacts – miracles of order and design, of planning and manufacture, of composition and colour, of taste and smell, of experience and feelings, and then there is that ‘sixth sense’ which no one on earth can explain, but none dare deny its existence.

Look for Nature’s beauty in the sunbeam.

Leaving home, its radiant light transcends

Finite time and space – invades earth’s cold, dark

Atmosphere – shining warmth and light where e’er

It lets, on land or sea.  Vibrant colours

Of red and gold, play on vale and hill, sea-

Pictures splashed across God’s giant canvas,

Beneath the sky’s blue rim.

Look for Nature’s beauty in the sunset.

Ev’ning play of sunbeams on land and sea -

Colours, not before seen that day, washing

Clouds living, breathing, changing shape and form -

Woven into the sky’s blue tapestry.

Nature’s murals encompass all of

This, and more – much, much more – painted as they

Are – by that unseen hand.

And then some smart-alec on the ‘telly’ tries to make me believe that all this came about by accident, by means of a “big-bang” and then every living cell, in every living thing, developed, (evolved) from virtually nothing, to what it is today, and that there is no God, or that God – if He exists at all – had nothing at all to do with it.   At this point, I usually get so exasperated with these so-called experts that I then switch channels – or switch off altogether – and begin to think of the time-honoured truths that come from the words of Jesus in His Sermon on the Mount:

“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much more than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature? And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” (Matthew 6.26-30)

 Man, with all his technology and ingenuity, cannot reproduce a flower, nor even its petal, not even its scent.   Can he make a bird, and make it fly?   And look at the mess he has made of many, so many, things.  I wonder if you – like me – fear for the future of the human race when man continues to interfere in genetics.  And do we know enough about the workings of the Universe to make judgements about what will happen in a million – even a thousand years?   We cannot, with any degree of certainty, guess what will happen tomorrow.  So where does this leave our global warming?

Perhaps, it would be more prudent for human kind to get on with doing what they do well – to live life as it is meant to be lived – to do the best we can every day – to love and care as best we can for the people and life around us – and to thank God for all his wondrous gifts.  We should then leave to God the things that are truly within God’s knowledge and preserve. 

“God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform”

Ampleforth Abbey and College – April 2010 

Last week was a ‘Retreat Week’, back at the Abbey, in Ampleforth, and throughout its duration, it was a joy to be free from the calls of the ‘front door’ and the telephone for a ‘wee’ while.  It was a time to commune, also, with nature and to begin to understand the meaning of the idea that, in the post Resurrection era, we live in a ‘new’ Creation. I saw signs of new life, in nature, as the photographs show.

 Lambs, heifers and ponies playing in the fields above Ampleforth Abbey – April 2010

The retreat was based on St. Mark and the retreat-giver pointed out that there are 16 Chapters in Mark’s Gospel which begins: “The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. The Retreat giver led us to reflect on the story of the death of John the Baptist, (Mark 6, 14-29), which he described as one of the best ‘bits’ of literature you will find for its economy of words, together with the drama and content of the occasion. But then he asked: “Where is the good news in that?” I suspect the mystery is hidden in the words proclaimed by John the Baptist in the first verses of the Gospel:

“The one who is more powerful than I am is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit”. (Mk 1, 7-8).

 The last verses of the Gospel describe the terror manifested by the women.  Mark 16 reads:

 “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid”,

Despite these words and their frightening aspect, I believe that, by following Jesus, in his deeds and in his words, we too will live under the Spirit – given to us, by Jesus, at our Baptism and Confirmation.  Good News, indeed!

Reflecting on all this, I think we are certainly in need of some good news in our country – and in our world – at the moment.  The General Election is looming and by the end of this day, next week, the ‘die will be cast’ for the foreseeable future and beyond, though there may be some ‘working out’ to be done.

During the last week, somebody sent me a ‘Power Point’ image depicting the world as if its entire, population was composed of just 100 people, living in a global village. Should anyone be interested, you  could find the ‘Power Point’ at:

 www.tom-phillips.info/powerpoint/global.village.pps

In this imaginary ‘village’, there would be 57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 Americans (North, Central and South) and 8 Africans. Six people – all from the USA – would possess 59% of the wealth, 80 would live in poverty, 70 would be illiterate, 50 would suffer from hunger and malnutrition, one would be dying, one would be being born, one would own a computer and one would have a university degree! The ‘model’ has some other very interesting things to say about poverty as well: “If you currently have money in the bank, in your wallet and a few coins in your purse, you are one of only eight of the privileged few amongst the ‘100’ people in this make-believe world.

Last evening, after a busy day, I went to our well-stocked ‘fridge’ looking for a bit of something to eat, and as I did so, I could not help but think how ‘lucky’ I am.  And, I would hazard a guess that, probably, most of the readers of this blog find themselves equally fortunate. However, it may be that we do not always feel quite so ‘lucky’. On this point, I remember the joy of meeting Cardinal Basil Hume, our former Abbot of Ampleforth, in 1981, at Bamber Bridge, a few months after the National Catholic Congress of the Church, held in Liverpool.  The Congress proclaimed with joy that “We are the Easter People and ‘Alleluia’ is our Song”, and as he came into the Priory House, where we monks were waiting for him, he said he had seen an old man, with a scowl on his face, at the railway crossing on Station Road: reflecting that there was a 50/50 chance he would be a Catholic, he gave a hearty laugh, and wondered if that man was a good advert for “The Easter People”?

Cardinal Hume with H.M. The Queen shortly before his death in June 1999

Thank God for so many things! We should always be wise and look at the world as if the ‘pint pot’ is ‘half-full’, rather than ‘half-empty’. Thank God, there are so many ‘ordinary’ folk; people who will never recognize their greatness, who will never know what a great help they have been for me. Take, for example, Frank Harrison, our former Head-teacher at the High School, in his 91st year, who is so optimistic and positive, even about his crippling arthritis and his continual ‘tinnitus’ that provides him with constant – often annoying – background noise. Or Maureen, the widow of Frank Worthington, who is so gracious and grateful – even though she has just lost her partner of 56 years!

The ‘root’ cause of our joy being so ‘rock’ solid lies in the first words of St. Mark’s Gospel: “The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God”. May Jesus and his ‘Good News’ influence our own lives more and more, our families, our public institutions and such things as the economy, art, politics, medicine, science, sport, and the whole of our world relationships, for, in Him, we have the answers to all the challenges of our day.

“Patience is a Virtue”

Just the other day, I was reminded of the old saying: “Patience is a Virtue” when in conversation with an old gardener.  Spring is very much a time for gardens and gardeners – hard work, I know, but very rewarding when the garden comes into full bloom during the summer months.   It does not happen immediately, at once, or within hours or days. No! One must wait and bide one’s time, to let God’s creations –  the bulbs, the plants, the trees, do their work.  The old man hit the ‘nail on the head’ when he came out with: “It cawn’t ‘appen aw’ at once – tha mun wait fer’t God to get busy – an ‘e teks ‘is time o’er things like this!”

Patience, a gift of the Holy Spirit, (or more properly defined as one of the nine Fruits of the Holy Spirit) does not get much a of a mention these days.  It never hits the headlines – does not figure in the news, and we, young and old, often fail to understand its true value.  Conversely, I think, in many cases, we also fail to fully understand the consequences of  our lack of it.  Impatience at work, and around the home often results in rushing and a job poorly finished – accidents in the home – and we all know what can happen on the roads when impatience takes over – when drivers become impatient.  The results can be catastrophic – even fatal!

I think God takes his time over many things, and in many instances we do not understand God’s timing.  We pray to Him and ask for things to help us in our lives.  Sometimes, it may be that we ask for things that, in the long run, are not good for us, and God will never give us things that are going to be detrimental or harmful.  But, what about things that, perhaps, will be good for us?  We may be aware of this when we ask – but are we prepared to wait?  When we do not receive the ‘favour’ from God straightaway, could it be that we then lose patience with Him and take the view that God is turning a ‘deaf ear’ to our prayers.  I believe that God hears every prayer we ever make – and all of them are answered – but not always in the way we may expect.  God will listen and then do what is best for us – he loves us with a love, so great, we cannot comprehend its magnitude.  Similarly, we do not always understand His ways – our impatience impedes, and ‘clouds’, our understanding.

God is infinitely patient with us.  When we go our own way and offend his great love – when self and selfish desires get between the Father in heaven and we children on earth – this puts us at odds with Him.  Surely, this provides the basis for most of our sinfulness, but the Father in his infinite wisdom and mercy has given us the way back to him.  Knowing what would happen once human beings were given free will, God gave us his Son as a way of getting back on the right ‘track’ – a way for disorientated children, to say ‘sorry’, receive forgiveness for our sins and re-establish that great joy which comes of being close to Him.  God knows all this – far better than we do – and he is patient with us when we stray from his side.  He knows we will return – and He is prepared to wait.

Given God’s patience with us, I think it behoves us also to be patient – patient with ourselves and with others.  All too often these days, we are in such a hurry that we can’t wait to get this or do that – can’t wait for that special occasion – a day out, a meal or that holiday we booked months ago.  The same happens when we see something we feel we need – that new computer,  music player, tv, or piece of furniture, and are desperate to have it today – not tomorrow, or even next week, and so we use the credit card – borrow in order to buy – then find ourselves ‘up to the eyes’ in debt before the ‘penny has dropped’.  How much more pleasurable it would be, to wait until we had the money to hand, and then to buy – with no debt to worry about.  Surely, our patience would be rewarded with much greater satisfaction and pleasure.

And so it is with others – if we are impatient with them – our relationships suffer and love goes ‘up the chimney like a puff of smoke’.  If family member or neighbour make mistakes and upset us – we should be forgiving and patient with them and, together, we  would then achieve much more.  This is especially so with children.  Patience and kindness – love in other words – is so important with others and where children are concerned, and everything that is given, in this patient and kind way, will be repaid a hundredfold.

It may be that patience comes easier to the person as he or she gets older – but even then it’s not always easy – things that are worthwhile never are!  The younger one happens to be, the more immediate appears to be one’s wants and needs, and though patience is certainly not the sole preserve of the elderly, I think older people will find it easier to realise that ‘Rome was not built in a day’ and will be prepared to wait a little time in order to achieve that special thing – that special time – that special feeling.  Children, especially when they are used to getting the things they want, in quick time, will no doubt find it hard to wait a little time for their desirables.  Even the elderly may find this virtue difficult – especially if they are more than ever aware of the fact that, for them, time is short.  It may be that time will not always be on their side!

So, although ‘Patience is a Virtue’, as the saying goes, it may be that for the majority of us, the realisation of its quality may not always be achieved easily.  Moreover, the difficulties associated with it may well be magnified for those of us who live in the well-developed, prosperous countries of the world.  Almost certainly, we will have been ‘spoiled’ to some extent – used to getting what we want, when we want.  People who live in the ‘Third World’ could, perhaps, teach us something about patience.  Materially, they have very little, and may have to wait, and wait, and wait – even for their next meal.

Perhaps we should all take a ‘leaf’ out of our gardener’s ‘book’ – he has to have patience – his garden does not grow according to his, or any other human time scale.

At yesterday’s audience in St. Peter’s Square, Pope Benedict said:

“We live amid great confusion about the fundamental choices of our life; there are so many contrasting philosophies, which arise and disappear, creating confusion about the fundamental decisions”.

However, as promised in the Gospel, the Lord has compassion on his “sheep without a shepherd,” and the Pontiff then continued:

“The Lord, moved by compassion, interpreted the word of God; he himself is the Word of God, and thus he gave guidance. This is the function ‘In persona Christi’ of the priest: to render present, in the confusion and disorientation of our times, the light of the Word of God, the light that is Christ, himself, in this our world.”

The Holy Father then went on to explain that the priest,

“… … does not teach his own ideas, a philosophy that he himself has invented, has found and that pleases him; [... …] but, in the confusion of all the philosophies, the priest teaches in the name of Christ present, he proposes the truth that is Christ himself, his word, his way of living and of going forward.”

But the one who epitomises confusion – confusion personified, if you like! – was Jesus on the Cross, when he felt that he had lost his relationship with his Father – the centre of his life.

Jesus Forsaken on the Cross

The waters grow muddier, however, because all this comes at a time when, I must confess, that recent newspaper and media articles about scandals among priests, accusations against Bishops and even the Pope, himself, had left me confused and rather depressed. How are we to cope in confusing times? 

I would like to illustrate from some more stories of priests that I have known: they are three monks of our Abbey that nobody outside the abbey would have known. All have died, and all were contemporaries more or less in our monastery as they joined in the same year, about 1936. They each helped me in moments of confusion and doubt for me.

Fr. Bruno Donovan, was an Irishman from Galway. He was my novice master and, because of his great gifts of empathy, sense of humour, compassion and kindness, God used him to enable me to make a firm decision and remain a monk of the Abbey.

Fr. Bruno Donovan OSB

Without any shadow of doubt, Fr. Bruno had a real and profound understanding of human beings: he, himself, had suffered in life, because he had a slight physical deformity – a hair-lip. I remember he told me, while I was still a novice, that for 30 years he was very self-conscious of this: but then, at some point, he managed to accept it and from then it did not bother him. Furthermore, he was a scatter-brain, a gifted talker and raconteur, but no organiser.  Consequently, he almost always arrived late for prayer duties, and, at once, “swung himself” into his place in choir (i.e. where we meet as monks seven times each day to pray). He ‘swung’ by grabbing the edge of the wooden choir stall and pulling himself round into his seat in one hectic movement – quite erratic! He had mannerisms that were, at the same time, endearing and annoying: one ‘cropped up’ in his teaching of Scripture or the Rule of St. Benedict – even in his homilies – when he would add the little phrase “you see” quite often, between sentences. On one occasion, we novices decided to count how many times he ‘used’ it in one session and the total was well over 50! His other ‘problem’ was that he was Irish, and our monastery – in the middle of the English countryside – had a majority of monks who were English. He felt ‘out of it’ he confided, though he could well ‘fight his own corner’.  Even so, this was a challenge. To make matters worse, he could not sing well, and this frustrated him, because as monks, we do a lot of singing, each day, in Church.

His greatest gift was that of friendship with people, and many used to come and consult with him, ask his advice, and share their problems – myself among them.  My experience of him was that he never gave the ‘standard’ answer: rather, I should think things through for myself, though he would stand beside me. I remember one crucial moment when I posed the question, “Should I leave the monastery, or stay?” At this, he did not say to me, “Of course you must stay.”  (By that time, I had already been in the monastery for a few years). Rather, he told me to consider my decision carefully and prayerfully. Still in confusion, I remember my firm decision to stay, coming – in the midst of my turmoil – when Fr. Bruno caught my eye across the Church and gave me a wry smile – a smile full of affectionate kindness. Isn’t it strange; isn’t if ‘funny’ how God works! Now, is that not an expression of the ‘Word of God’ in a person, expressing itself, not in speaking, but in a whole and long-lasting relationship of friendship? Fr. Bruno used to say of himself: “I am always glad to see my name in the Benedictine Yearbook each year – it’s still there despite everything”.  I am sure it was his ‘suffering’ that made him so wise.

Fr. Robert Coverdale was solidly English. Just look at his name! It reminds me of the Coverdale Bible –  the first full Bible in English – and from the reformers in the 16th century.

Fr. Robert Coverdale OSB

He was a very independent man, and for years the ‘Procurator’ at Ampleforth. He did not ‘take fools gladly’, had quite a ‘short fuse’ and found the monastic life not really ‘congenial’ to his temperament. Yet he remained a loyal and steadfast servant of our community right ‘to the end’. One day, I plucked up courage and went to him for confession, and from then on, he was my confessor for some years, until 1973 when I moved to my first parish. Going to him was one of the best things I ever did. He was a human being of high quality – even ‘nobility’ – in his outlook.  One day I told him of my usual problems, which were all to do with problematic relationships, in that a lady had ‘latched’ herself onto me, and it was difficult to know how to handle the situation. I well remember, he used to say to me: “Jonathan, God did not make you an angel: he made you a human being with all the weaknesses and difficulties that we face – so don’t worry too much. Had He wanted to He could have made all human beings like angels, but God didn’t want that.” This was just the sort of advice and support I needed in my confusion. On another occasion, when I confessed to reading a novel, and it was against the rules to read novels except in holiday time, he said that it was probably the best thing I could have done, because had I not had some time to relax, I might have had a nervous break-down, and then the rest of the community would have had to ‘pick up’ all the work I was doing: so much better, to relax, than to fall by the wayside! “The Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath”, and his advice made sense to me, even if ‘rules are rules’. His wisdom came from his evident perseverance in the monastic life, despite its way of life not really being a way conducive to him.

My final ‘example’ is that of Fr. Aelred Graham. He wrote various books and one of his last had a double meaning: “The End of Religion”.

Fr. Aelred Graham OSB

Fr. Aelred had been asked to become the Prior of Portsmouth Abbey (then called Priory) in the USA, and after a few years, the monks elected him as their Prior. After 16 years in the job he had become very interested and attracted by Buddhism, so much so, that on his retirement back to the Abbey at Ampleforth, and after a sabbatical touring the Far East – meeting up with Buddhist and Hindu gurus –  some of the brethren thought him more of a Buddhist than a Christian. I always liked him, and never felt that way about him. He was so calm – like an oriental Buddhist monk who has found his way – very friendly and fascinating in his ideas.  Because of him, I read the Upanishads and other Hindu and Buddhist literature. I found the writings beautiful, spiritual and helpful. Later, I was to learn that the second Vatican Council teaches that there are ‘seeds’ of the Word of God, in all the great religions of the world, and this ‘confirmed’ my enjoyment in ‘dipping’ into those Hindu and Buddhist writings. It was a confusing time during the 1960’s and early 1970’s. Some of our monks became a bit ‘too interested’ in non-Christian religions: but then, monastic life pre-dates Christianity – the Buddha lived about 500 years before Jesus – and there are influences of the Oriental religions, certainly, in the Gospels.  Also it should be said, many Christian monks feel an ‘affinity’ with the non-Christian monks.  Fr. Aelred ‘suffered’ in a way because of his being so different to the traditional English Catholic ways of our Ampleforth brethren. Yet, he always seemed to me to be able to resist criticism, peacefully keeping to the path that he had found, and over the years, he continued to influence and to help me. Those years – post Vatican Council – were confusing times, however, and there was a tendency to see all religions as if on an equal footing, and I, too, was confused. Fr. Aelred died a loyal and respected member of our Ampleforth community, and for me, he illuminated a whole new world – a new theology – that still fascinates me, as dialogue between the Catholic Church and the entire world religions continues to this day.

My conclusion in the confusing times in which we live is to recognise that this is ‘nothing’ compared with the confusion Jesus suffered when he thought he no longer had a relationship with God his Father, when on the Cross.

Pope Benedict said yesterday: “In the confusion of all the philosophies, the priest teaches in the name of Christ present, he proposes the truth that is Christ himself, his word, his way of living and of going forward.” Jesus, in his sense of being forsaken on the cross, lost the whole meaning of his life which was founded in his relationship with his Father. That was taken away from him, and so He then, taking on the most serious confusion that He could experience, is really fully the Word of God who throws light onto the situations we find so confusing in life. Every one of our confusions is found in what Jesus experienced. Jesus remained suffering in that confusion, and in great faith and love said just before He died, “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit”.

It is confusing and distressing to read about all the present scandals within the Church: perhaps, some Catholics will actually leave the Church as a result. I feel very sad, downcast at times, and upset for the victims of any maltreatment. I find the accusations against clerics very disheartening, especially, the evident satisfaction the publicity seems to provide for those who are enemies of the Church and all its values, and those involved in the media. Then I see the face of Jesus suffering on his Cross; Jesus is suffering today in this situation in me, probably in many laity, priests and Bishops and even in the Pope. There are plenty of other sufferings also: but in all this, I see the suffering of those three monks. Their sufferings led them to become role models for me – role models for me to learn from and to follow. I, too, can stay in my confusion and share the same faith as Jesus, continuing to hope against hope that God will sort it out. And the teacher of those three monks? I believe they learned from the One in whom they lived – and moved – and had their being, and in this way they became the ‘Word’ for me and in that I found a solution to my confusions. Jesus, himself, was their role model! I hope he is mine and yours too, and in Him we find the solution to any present confusions!

Within the Church, we are still celebrating “The Year for Priests”. On this most important subject, we have had interesting discussions – within our Pastoral Council – on the best way to help parishioners be more aware of their own vocation, that of the ‘laity’ in the Church, on the vocation of the ‘Royal Priesthood’, and also concerning the vocations of an ordained priest and a person in religious life. Priests and those in religious life are, themselves, essentially part of the ‘Family of the Church’, and so we cannot really grasp the ‘calling’ to become a priest or a religious, without understanding our own ‘calling’ as ‘baptised people’ within the Church – the underlying, basic vocation. Fundamentally, our ideas have turned on the question of how best to help our parishioners, and to do that we must first listen to them. Hence we propose to air two questions along the following lines:               

“What do you expect, or hope for, from your priests?”

“Why do you come to Church?”

Following on from parishioners’ answers, we will discuss and plan what to do next, and this has caused me to ask of myself: “If I were a lay person, what would I expect, or hope for, from a priest?”

Over the years, I have known many priests. I suppose this experience began within my own family, when priests would come and join us for meals: my parents very much enjoyed asking priests to come to us for meals. From my earliest recollections to my years as teen-ager, my dad was in the army and so the majority of these visiting priests were Catholic army chaplains, and I still remember, as a young boy, how much I enjoyed their company. In those days, it would have been difficult for me to have answered the two questions posed above, but certainly, I used to love their good humour, their stories and their jokes – sometimes it seemed like never-ending jokes – all of which left me with a good feeling towards priests.

“What do you expect, or hope for, from your priests?”

“Why do you come to Church?”

Returning to the questions – from an adult, lay person’s point of view, and among other things – I would like my priest to be reliable: to be a person I could trust, to help me, when I needed help: a person who knew God, and so could help me to know God.  In my view, he must, preferably, be someone with a good ‘friendly feel’ about him – somebody I could talk to, and somebody of whom I could never be afraid.   Underlying all of this, I suppose, there should be that certain ‘love’ – generated out of kindliness, integrity and truth.  But, is this reaching for perfection?  I do not think so!  

In my adult life, as priest and monk, I have also come to know many priests. Here, I choose just three from their number –  a small selection from so many – and as I reflect on them and their impact on me, I wonder what kind of challenges and opportunities they faced in their lives as they made their “holy journey to God?” In the context of today’s ‘bad press’ concerning ordained Catholic priests, maybe all of us might ponder in our hearts, and reflect, whilst praying, I hope, for all priests; within the body of the Church, ordained priests are essential – a vital part of our Catholic Communion of Faith.

But, to return to my selected ‘fathers’, there was one diocesan priest, in a previous diocese, who used to come to deanery meetings; he was an ordinary man from Manchester – nothing special about him –but he was known to be very popular in his parish. One day, the priests were talking – as they do – and he said something rather strange, for a seemingly contented man. He expressed, frankly, how much he disliked the people, the place where he was and the Parish Priest: all he wanted, was to return to Manchester. This ‘outburst’ appeared so odd, because he was such a ‘good’ priest and so popular with the people.  At this, I asked him why he thought he was so popular. In reply, he said: “Because I do whatever they want me to do!”  – a reply that has remained with me down the years.  On the whole, it strikes me as being a wise way to act. After all, in behaving that way, he was not ‘pushing his ideas’, his own ego, to the exclusion of other peoples’ wants and needs; instead, he was serving the people, and as long as they were not making demands that went against – contradicted – faith or morals, then isn’t that a pretty fair way to behave?

The first parish in which I served was St. Mary’s, Warrington, a town centre parish, with an old-fashioned Edwardian-type presbytery and, I remember, in each room, there was a gas fire that one had to light with a match. I had come straight out from the monastery, where life was pretty austere; heating in the monastery rooms had come from large 9″ water pipes  – invariably lukewarm and not subject to one’s control – so the gas fire in my Warrington room was a great luxury. But, to make things even more ‘wonderful’, the Parish Priest, Fr. Gabriel Gilbey, one of my fellow monks I had never ‘really’ met before, and with all the courtesy of the great man that he was, led me outside into the yard at the rear, where he showed me the garages and dangled a set of car keys in front of my eyes. Handing them to me, he said: “That little Renault is for you to use: just be careful as it has a gear stick you push in, and out, at the side of the steering wheel, but you should have no difficulty”. That was January, 1973, and there I was, a young monk, ordained just 18 months, and with a car to drive – something quite impossible within the monastery – and a huge room with its own gas fire, making everything feel so homely. Cars were – still are! – essential to do our work, as we were chaplains to the Warrington Borough General, a hospital to which we were called out, at any hour, of the day or night – a journey of some 10 minutes to drive there. What I loved about Fr. Gabriel was the way he placed his trust in me – a young and very inexperienced monk, ordained only 18 months previously, and completely un-trained in parish life. I soon got to love that parish – its Parish Priest – and trust and feelings of ‘love’ were very quickly to become mutual. He died over 20 years ago and is one of the few monks buried in Warrington – among the people he loved – and for whom he spent his life, as best he could.

The third of my chosen three, was another man who died only in the last 12 months.  He was Fr. Dan Cadogan, a diocesan priest and an Irishman, born and bred on Clear Island, County Cork. He was Parish Priest of Euxton, St. Mary’s, and though I never worked with him, we did, indeed, belong to the same Deanery. He, too, I found to be such a ‘good’ man – a person I could not only trust, and admire for his evident prayerful, priestly life, his innocence and charm – but also because of his real interest in me.  He trusted me as a fellow priest – young it is true  – and again not very experienced.

The synthesis of the effect these three priests had on me, as a fellow priest, leads me to appreciate the gift of “Godliness, loving care and good humour” in my fellow priests. …. And prayers for priests will never go amiss!

“What do you expect, or hope for, from your priests?”

“Why do you come to Church?”

Having digressed a little, I now return to the questions posed and the answers that the people will give, we hope, concerning these very important matters.  I think it will be good – essential , unless I am widely mistaken – to listen to what our lay people think, and, at the same time, we hope it will be helpful to our Parish Pastoral Council!   We wait, in eager anticipation, your considered views.

Contentment – the name we give to that quite wonderful quality I saw in a granddad, just recently, who smilingly, said to me, with two of his grandchildren around him, and in his Lancashire way: “Ee lad, it’s grand to be owd! Now’t like it”.  That ‘simple’ exchange reminds me of Pope John Paul II, whose fifth anniversary occurred yesterday, Good Friday. In 1999, he wrote a letter to the elderly, and Section 8 contains the following paragraph:

The teaching and language of the Bible present old age as a “favourable time” for bringing life to its fulfilment and, in God’s plan for each person, as a time when everything comes together and enables us better to grasp life’s meaning and to attain “wisdom of heart”. “Length of days is not what makes age honourable,”, observes the Book of Wisdom, “understanding, this is grey hairs, untarnished life, this is ripe old age.” (4:8-9). Old age is the final stage of human maturity and a sign of God’s blessing.

Pope John Paul II

I remember watching a video of this Pope as an old and contented man, and yes, with Parkinson’s disease, and a shaky voice! The Pope was greeting a group of Bishops, and as he was leaving, he turned back to greet them with a smile. He smiled and twirled his walking stick as though shouting with joy: “Hey Ho!” while bidding farewell. All this gives me great encouragement, as I reflect that God has led me, faithfully, through the passage of time – this year into the later sixties – always with the feeling that there are marvellous things to look forward to – with hope.

Jesus never experienced old age. He was ‘cut off’ in the ‘prime of life’, but St. John puts words into his mouth that are nevertheless a sign of quiet contentment: “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do” (Jn 17:4).  Jesus did not need to live to old age, because he had completed the task he came to perform, whilst still a young man – a life of some thirty-odd years, only three of which are chronicled to any extent.

A prisoner I know, one who is new to prison life, reinforces my thinking on this subject.  Having committed an offence that has taken away his liberty, he appears, in certain ways, to be unlike other prisoners, largely because he, too, exhibits a special contentment; he speaks, easily, of his life and family, and with a ‘twinkle’ in his eye. He is an ‘older’ young man, and he, too, teaches me what contentment is, even from the confines of his prison.

Certainly, contentment is not the sole preserve of the elderly; however, I think it may be more difficult to achieve by those in their earlier stages of life; it may be that it is harder for them to be able to say with conviction: “This is my life and I am happy and content with it,” given the many and varied challenges they face.  Children – still growing in wisdom and knowledge – are all too often taken by rebelliousness, and believe they have a revolution to win.  Often, in their ‘teens’  they think they know quite a lot, whereas in later life they may come to realise how little they know, and just how much they still have to learn.   I wonder how many husbands and wives – partners if you like – ask themselves the question, “Is this the same person I married / partnered?”, and, “Where has he, or she, gone?” All too often money, ambitions, careers take over and then, where is contentment? Illnesses and addictions of one form or another – alcohol, drugs, etc – all seem to mitigate against that feeling of being ‘happy’ with one’s life – one’s lot – and contentment may then seem very far away – unassailable – unachievable!

Giving – rather than taking all the time – self-discipline, and realistic assessment of self, come more easily, I suspect, to those with a few decades ‘under their belt’, once life that has been lived to the full –  but even then, it is not automatic. To be able to ‘step back’ from the situation I am in, and see it in an objective and positive light, is what is required – not easy, if my thinking is prejudiced by disordered emotions, or unrealistic dreams of self. The experiences of those in ‘older youth’ or in ‘young middle age’ are not usually helpful to the achievement of that contentment which arises out of wisdom and true understanding. Indeed, for many of us, some of our well known – well used – proverbs ring true: “The person who never made a mistake never made anything,” or “You cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs.”  Our mistakes, if we learn from them, very often show us the way to wise contentment.

Yesterday, Good Friday, thoughts and emotions surrounding Jesus’ passion and death, rise very easily to the surface.  A human being, like us, and out of love for us,  He completed the work his Father gave him to do; in the process,  He lost his peace and contentment in the agony of his suffering and death. He lost the joy of his union with God – suffering on the Cross – so that we may be free from anger, and able to find peaceful contentment, in our union with God. But, after his Resurrection, he entered into a perfection of contented peace – a peace and contentment that will be ours, if we abide in Him. We await, with ‘bated breath’ during this wonderful ‘hiatus’ that is Holy Saturday, for the victory of Jesus.  Will it happen again, just as last year? This is our hope, and “.. .. hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us” (Rom 5; 5).

Would it not, indeed, be a very worthwhile ideal – the achievement of that peaceful contentment as enjoyed by ‘our’ granddad, with whom we began; should we be able to, it would give glory to God; it would be to our own good and the good of many who remain an essential part of our lives?

Yesterday was the feast of the Annunciation: “… et Verbum caro hic factum est”, meaning: “… and here the Word was made flesh!” This ‘world-changing’ event took place at the small house in Nazareth, now within the beautiful, Basilica of the Annunciation, where it is said the angel appeared to Mary, asking her to become the Mother of God. “Be it done unto me according to your word“, were the words Mary spoke, according to Luke’s Gospel, when she accepted the will of God and said “Yes” to the message of the angel. Her words are carved on the stone, below the altar, in the little house of Mary, at Nazareth.

The Altar Stone – Basilica of the Annunciation

When God became man it was nothing less than a new creation – something completely new – made by the creating power of God, who makes out of nothing, for Mary conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph knew nothing of this and was so upset when, on another occasion, he was told that Mary was with child, he decided to “divorce her informally”. Never, in the history of all humanity, has there been such a birth as this, defying every law of nature. No wonder that, in the scripture, it says: “For God nothing is impossible”.  This ‘miracle’ of creation reminds me of the Resurrection when, out of nothing, God ‘gave’ life back to Jesus – the life that had been taken away from him when dying on the Cross on Good Friday. Jesus – that baby conceived at Nazareth, when Mary said her “Yes” – was truly man, and truly God, and so, perhaps, it is the God in Jesus, that could do no other, but rise again in the humanity of Jesus?

Michaelangelo’s Creation – Sistine Chapel

Recently, I got to know a granddad, who came to see me and asked me to pray with him, because of a very serious family tragedy, concerning a grandchild. We stayed in touch. Grandma and granddad went to Rome, and when there, they thought of me and bought me a beautiful copy of the Sistine Chapel’s famous fresco, that of God creating Adam. The picture now hangs in our Priory. It shows God, depicted completely ‘alive’ with His helpers, angels and such around him, stretching out his arm towards the lifeless – but expectant – Adam. Adam is listless; there is no life at all, and fingers are just about to touch – a couple of ‘brush strokes’ showing us the dynamic – the momentous touch of God giving life to a human being. The artist, Michaelangelo, painted God’s left hand, almost embracing a ‘fearful’ angel, who looks at Adam and who seems very apprehensive and questioning: “Does God really know what he is doing? Is He aware of the tremendous risk he is taking, in creating Adam in his own image and likeness, with the ability to know, to love and to choose the direction in which to go? Does God realise ­– I wonder –what this will cost Him?” These are the questions that that particular figure evokes for me. Above, are much more-excited, and possibly less-experienced, younger angelic creatures who apparently cannot wait for God to create. They seem not to have thought about any consequences of God’s actions, but are just eager and ready to go right ahead in the ‘creation stakes’. All are depicted fully alive – and the energy in God – well that is like that of a million volts of electricity. Adam is completely nothing, lifeless, showing no joy, no knowledge, no will – an empty shell.

Creation out of nothing! It sets me thinking. If we have a real relationship with another person, something new is made – something that is unlike anything else in the world. It depends on one person being able to ‘let’ the other into his, or her, life and that requires ‘emptiness of self’. No two relationships are the same; how I relate to my parents is quite different to the way my brother or sister relates to them. We are all different and unique, all loved by God, all precious in God’s eyes. I wonder if relationships – so infinitely varied – are, in this sense, linked to the ‘nothingness’ from which God creates something new?

What I do know is that, very often, in order to live at peace and harmony with others, we have to empty ourselves of our own opinions and views, and let the other have his, or her, say, without imposing anything. No conditions! If I do this – and do it out of love – then, in a sense, I become nothing, and it will then become possible for the other to eventually ask the question, in an explicit or non-explicit way: “What do you think about this”. A dialogue is created that may have seemed quite impossible – ‘hope springs eternal’. There is quite a lot to learn from ‘nothingness’. St. Thérèse of Lisieux thought of herself as the ‘rag doll’ of God –  a ‘doll’ that God could throw here or there – do with whatever He willed, and she remained joyful.

The feast of the Annunciation has certainly got me thinking!

March 16th 2010 marked the 14th anniversary of my mother, Rosemary, who died in London, 1996, at the age of 89. Her anniversary made me reflect on the joy of knowing that we are united with all who have gone before us and who are now in paradise, and of the great gift of motherhood. Even though death separates us – in one sense – we are still able to talk to, and receive from, those who were so close to us – a wonderful two-way system of communication with those who have been a part of our lives. This year, two days before my mother’s anniversary, it had been Mothers’ Day. My mother taught me a great deal, apart from all the normal things that mothers teach; one important thing was to love the Catholic Church into which she had converted. My mother, in regard to her conversion to the Catholic Church, came under the influence (among other things) of Cardinal John Henry Newman and his biography “Apologia Pro Vita Sua”, and also, of course, my dad, who was a devout Catholic layman; she was determined to marry him, as a Catholic, herself!

However, my mother was not the only ‘mother’ in my life, important as she was in giving me birth and nurturing me as only human mothers can.  As you read on, you will begin to understand why I make this bold statement….

An ancient text from Islamic writings states:

“None of you is a believer until he desires for the other what the other desires for himself”.

(Number 13 of Imam “Al-Nawawi’s Forty Hadiths)

This lovely saying is actually the Golden Rule of all religions and even of humanists; it holds a prominent place at the United Nations headquarters. For Christians and Jews it arises out of the Torah in the book of Leviticus, originally, though of course the wording is not exactly the same, and there it refers to any strangers, living among the Holy People of God, in those far off days. Jesus, himself, taught us the Golden Rule in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. 

In 1997, this text was quoted in the famous Mosque of Malcolm X in Harlem, New York, by a frail, white Italian woman, the first ever to enter and speak to 3000 people – mainly black American Moslems – and to murmurs of approval from this large audience. Now, Harlem is not the usual place for white skinned delicate looking ladies. It is an Afro-American residential area; some might call it a kind of ‘ghetto’, which has been marked, significantly, by serious violence, over the years. It goes without saying, that a white skinned New Yorker, does not think of going into that area unless he, or she, has an important reason for so doing – and even then trusting in the protection of God and God’s supporters! Malcolm X himself, was assassinated in 1967, by those black Americans who did not agree with his views; he had undergone a dramatic transformation, once having ceased to oppose ‘white’ America and begun to embrace the building of American unity, in the 1960’s.  And, the speaker on this momentous occasion, this frail Italian lady?  She was called Chiara Lubich, and March 14th 2010 marked the second anniversary of her death, the passing of someone whose influence has changed my life completely.  This last week I was reminded that I was not the only one! In many ways she became even more influential, for me, than my own mother, Rosemary, and that is true for many others.

How did this come about for me and many others? It is far too long a story to explain in this short piece, but, on the anniversary of her death, March 14th 2010, there were over 650 ‘celebrations’ world-wide, of her life. One took place, in Rome, on the Capitoline Hill – symbolic centre of government for Rome, from ancient times – at the heart of the city, by the forum. This celebration was organised by Rome’s Town Council, because 2010 marks the tenth anniversary of the City of Rome bestowing honorary citizenship on Chiara Lubich. In England, the equivalent might be the Guildhall in London and the London County Council and Mayor honouring a person, in such a way. In Rome, the title given to the celebration was “Chiara Lubich – A Life for Unity”. In the year 2000, she had been honoured with the Citizenship of Rome, because ‘her’ movement – the ‘Focolare Movement’ – had been ‘in Rome’ 50 years, 1950-2000, and the Citation for her ‘Roman Citizenship’ says: “The Movement creates a humanism of a new people of every culture, religion, age, and social standing”. Those present last Sunday, 14th March 2010, were artists, Nobel prize-winners, cardinals, Members of the Italian Parliament, her family, members of the Focolare Movement, founded by Chiara, and many others whose lives had been changed because of contact with her and with her spirit.

The two-hour long celebration, last Sunday, focussed on the main events in her life. (Those interested can follow this on the website http://live.focolare.org. It is mainly in Italian, but the Jewish Rabbi and the Imam, referred to below, speak in English and can be picked up after 20 minutes or so.)  Here I want to focus on just one event – the Harlem Meeting in 1997 – mentioned above in paragraph 5.  Apart from showing a short clip of what happened in 1997, people that had been present at Harlem spoke about what that event had meant for them.

Michael Shevak

Notably, one was Jewish Rabbi from New York, Michael Shevak, who went to the Mosque because he was asked to go and listen to Chiara. He explained what a fearful experience it was for him and his wife, both white skinned, and Jewish. He had been brought up by good parents, but was taught to be prejudiced against those who were not white. He was terrified of visiting the dangerous area of Harlem – an area you did not visit as a white person – if you ‘valued your life’. He explained that being Jewish, itself tends to make you fearful, but his prejudices also made him afraid of dark skinned races. However, he knew from experience, that when asked by the people of the Focolare Movement to go somewhere, he would always go, immediately, in the knowledge that God was sending him ultimate challenges in his life. Therefore, going to Harlem meant making an act of faith – an act of faith that would take him, and his wife, to the edges of their faith and trust. At the end of the talk, given by Chiara on that ‘famous’ day, he turned to his Christian friend, next to him, and said one word: “Incredible”. It was almost ‘unbelievable’ that such a thing had happened at all.

Imam El Hajji Izak-El Mu’eed Pasha

Even more amazing, for me, were the impressions of the present Imam of the Malcolm Shabazz Mosque, Imam El Hajji Izak-El Mu’eed Pasha – a large well spoken black American – who himself had been present in 1997. He spoke in such hushed, and awesome tones, saying that the dignity, honesty and innocence of Chiara Lubich, would never be forgotten by the two millions strong Muslim community of WD Mohammed, founder of this American Muslim movement, and the person who hosted and invited Chiara to Harlem in 1997.

Chiara and WD Mohammed 

 Malcolm Shabazz Mosque Harlem

It was also important to note that those who frequented the famous Mosque, named after Malcolm X, where Chiara gave her talk, would never forget it. He went on:

“Chiara had delivered to the Moslems of America the words of Jesus Christ (blessed be his name) and his mother Mary (blessed be her name) and as a result Chiara would be present always in the hearts of the Muslims and of all Americans. Furthermore the pact of unity made between Chiara and WD Mohammed would never die; it has changed the world and certainly it has changed America for the better.”

These are strong words of hope that refer to things happening now – things that have happened in the life-time of the readers of this blog. ‘HOPE’, a virtue akin to confidence and self-esteem, is one of those qualities that a mother instils in her children, but sadly something that is lacking in many hearts today – witness one fact alone – the extraordinary rise in ‘young’ suicides in our country. It is, perhaps, ‘hope’ above all else, that Chiara has given to me and to many others, building in my case, on the loving experience I received from my own mother, Rosemary, and my father, Henry, amid all their limitations – not to mention my own! Real hope comes – not from abstract theory – but from the concrete experience of life, and many people who belong to the ‘humanism’ of a ‘new people’ of every culture, race, religion, age and social standing – referred to by those who gave Chiara, Honorary Citizenship of Rome – are recipients of this life-giving experience. I count myself among them.

To conclude, I thank you mother, Rosemary, for all you gave me, and thank you, Chiara, mother in another sense, for all the ‘Hope’ and ‘Meaning’ given to my life through ‘knowing’ you. Actually, Chiara, I thank you because you have simply helped me to see my inheritance as a Christian, a Monk and a priest – privileged to be a monk of Ampleforth Abbey; privileged to be a priest in St. Mary’s Leyland,– trying to be at the service of all with whom I am involved. You emphasise again the ‘Golden Rule’: “Do unto others as you would have them do to you”, and so point me in the direction of becoming an ever-better Christian, as you encourage others to become ever better, in their own path to God. But, there is something more that you have given me – the beauty of belonging to a people who live and work for unity – a unity that I would never have known – never have experienced, had I not come to know the people who belong to every culture, race, religion, age and social standing.  Truly, they give such a special enrichment to life – and all of them hold fast to the ‘Golden Rule’.