Nothing could be more normal than that; for such contradictions exist in all parts of the Church and in each one of our own lives. Yes, we are alive, but from time to time, perhaps for some people more than others, the external living is, in reality, a ‘non life’; compare this with something like the ten lepers who were excluded from the village, on the borders of Galilee and Samaria, as described in last Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 17: 11-19). They felt ‘cut off’ from God and from people. Only God could cure them and this had not yet happened: they were ‘cut off’ by the villagers, as their disease was so contagious. Together, the lepers cried to Jesus, from a distance outside the village: “Jesus, Master, take pity on us!” Jesus did not do anything but simply told them to go to see the priests, and this they did; the priests could declare that God had cured them, and they could then return to the community. One cured leper seems to have disobeyed our Lord. He came back and threw himself at Jesus’ feet, in thanksgiving.  Jesus commended him.  It is as though Jesus needs to be close to a person for him, truly, to be saved, as this foreign Samaritan leper was:

“Were not all ten made clean? The other nine, where are they? It seems not one has come back to give praise to God, except this foreigner.  Stand up and go on your way.  Your faith has saved you.”

Pope Francis just before the meal with the “down and outs”

Does not our own experience teach us the same? If Jesus is too close, I may feel ‘threatened’ in my comfort zone. But Jesus, close to us, gives us true life. In fact, those village people, who cut off their fellow human beings, were those who, like the lepers, lived a ‘non-life’.  Jesus meant nothing to them and Jesus never performed miracles in the villages: in his own Nazareth, they lacked faith. These village people were content to live in their own ‘rut’. They treated their leprous neighbours as ‘non-people’, leaving them in their isolated misery, and they ignored the person, and message, of Jesus, so letting that ‘non-life’ enter their own hearts. The curing of the lepers – might have led to the curing of the villagers – I wonder!

Pope Francis and young boy just before lunch

Returning to Pope Francis, in Assisi, it has been noted by many journalists that the Pope spent a lot of time with those on the edges of society, when he was there on the 4 October. “Papa Francesco seemed happier with disabled and poor than in the sumptuous basilica” said one. On this note, let me point you to this short two minute video on ‘YouTube’, that shows Pope Francis having his dinner with down and outs in Assisi, at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPbruR33s3s . These people are regularly fed by a kind group of caring people. One man ‘collars’ the Pope and seems to dominate him!

 Pope spies this one month old baby just before lunch in the Holy Land

Pope Francis spies a lady with a young baby in her arms and enquires how old the baby is: “one month”, is the reply, and the Pope gives her a loving smile of recognition. Then he says grace, and thanks them all for inviting him to lunch with them.

With Pope Francis, those living ‘on the edge’ are more important than the tombs of the dead, and the stones and frescos in the basilicas. He is not forcing his views on us, but Pope Francis’ actions speak a lot louder than his words.  Maybe all of us could ask the Lord to enliven us, to give life to those parts of us where there is ‘non-life’, and then, maybe, we will show the presence of Jesus to this world of ours – a world that is searching so hard for meaning and sense.

Father Jonathan

Fr. Mark Knowles, a priest of the Leeds diocese, died on 18 September 2013, after a brief illness. He was important for us in Leyland and Ampleforth Abbey, for various reasons. Firstly, (as Fr. Ignatius), he had been a monk of Ampleforth Abbey for 30 years, and Fr. Stephen was roughly his contemporary in the novitiate – always a bonding time for monks; secondly, he served here in Leyland, with Fr. Rupert Everest as Parish Priest, in the 1980’s. Thirdly, he had been very important in my life as a young monk. As a young man in the monastery, called Brother Jonathan, it was not always an easy time for me. The greatest difficulty was loneliness and feeling misunderstood, despite living in a lively community of young contemporaries and older men. Ignatius was someone a little older and more experienced, to whom I could release these ‘demons’, and have them, quietly and gently cast aside, as I came to realise that here was a very good friend.

Fr. Mark Knowles, born 18 January 1935, died 18 September 2013

On Wednesday 2 October, the feast of the Holy Angels, I was able to witness the work of angels. Our Parish Mass, at 9.00 am, was offered for the feast of the Guardian Angels, and our challenge then was, that by 11.00 am, Fr. Stephen Wright and I, from Leyland, were to be at St. Joseph’s Church, in Pudsey, for the funeral of Fr. Mark. The ‘Sat Nav’ indicated it would take 75 minutes to journey from Leyland. We left at about 9.50 am and so I was dubious we would arrive in time. In the event, the M61 was marked as being slow moving, so we went by different route, and, without any dangerous driving, it must be said, we did not dawdle. We arrived on the dot of eleven o’ clock – how I am not quite sure – were the angels clearing the way?

On arrival, our first ‘concrete’ angel appeared. The Church was beside us, but there was nowhere to park, except down a nearby side street. As I pulled up to let Fr. Stephen out, and join the concelebrating priests, a man appeared from a house on the road, and said: “Hello Father, I know all the priests in St. Joseph’s and if you park here you are certain to obtain a ticket from the traffic wardens as it is residents’ only. But tell you what! I will let you have my resident’s permit for guests.” I thanked him profusely, but then asked him a further favour. “Would you let me visit your bathroom and have a wash and brush up?” His reply: “Of course Father”, and I ran into his house, as two elderly ladies eyed me up from one of the rooms at the side; I took the stairs, two at a time, forgetting in my haste whether I had my alb to concelebrate Mass with me or not …. and, I just made it, across the way to a parish hall, where a kind lady – another ‘angel’ – was just locking the door on all the priests’ jackets and bags. Thus, I got to the Church on time, and I thanked God for sending me one angel after another, on this great feast day!

We then experienced a quite astonishing Service, full of joy and happiness in the funeral of Fr. Mark, (always known to us in the monastery as Fr. Ignatius). It was a purely divine moment; the angels were also there, along with Jesus and Mary, and many saints. The church was packed with priests and people; Bishop David Konstant, the Bishop Emeritus of Leeds was there; he had no role other than to concelebrate and his humility impressed me. I chatted to him later and he was so friendly and affable. Fr. Theodore Young (resident with us in the Leyland Priory house) considers Bishop David his friend as he was his Bishop when Fr. Theo served in Knaresborough. Bishop David also confided that he used to teach our Abbot Cuthbert Madden when he was 14 years old – another angel!

The congregation from different parts of the diocese, lay and priestly, included a good ‘scattering’ of former pupils of Ampleforth College, also good friends of Fr. Mark (Fr. Ignatius).  I was to find out that Fr. Mark had been a friend of all; in his life, many confided in him, laity of all types, inadequate young people, revered priests and others. All were so pleased – even eager – to be present and give their particular friend a farewell fitting for him. In my mind’s eye, it was a congregation very like that of the Early Church, described by St Paul as “saints”. The liturgy was simple, inclusive, prayerful and devout, with lovely singing by a cantor, leading without any pretensions.

 Fr. Richard Carter, Parish Priest of St Joseph’s, Pudsey

At the beginning of Mass there was an appreciation of Fr. Mark, by Fr. Richard Carter, the parish priest of St. Joseph’s Pudsey, who, as a layman, had been with Fr. “Ignatius”, as he was then, here in Leyland. They remained good friends all their lives. He explained:

“Mark’s father was a Brigadier General in World War II and Mark often looked back with pride on his dad’s achievements.  Mark’s family sent him off aged just seven, in 1942, to Gilling Castle, the preparatory school for Ampleforth.  At that time his family were living in the Welsh valleys.  Mark used to say he left for school speaking with a strong Welsh accent and returned at Christmas saying ‘Hello, Mummy’ in his decadent ‘Radio 3′ voice, as he used to call it.  There are just so many stories to tell of his exploits in Gilling and Ampleforth. He ran away from Gilling with another friend, and was found in the evening of the same day. Also, aged 10, he was studying books on Antique Furniture, and he pre-dated ‘Harry Potter’ with his two pet owls, ‘Aristotle’ and ‘Plato’.

Mark always wanted to be a priest – even from an early age. His uncle, Gervase, a monk in the abbey, persuaded him to enter the monastery taking the religious name of Ignatius.   He was later ordained priest on the 28th July 1965.  Mark often reflected, with no blame on the monastery, that this decision to become a monk was a mistake.  He later managed to undo the mistake, by being incardinated as a secular priest, in the Leeds Diocese, and he felt he had come home then to his real vocation to be a priest.

Everyone here will remember something special about Mark’s character – from his dry wit to his charm; above all, from his compassion, to his love for all things and for people.  He was also the only person I have met in life that could ask you to do something for him, yet make you feel he had done you a favour.”

I wonder how many people in Leyland can remember Fr. Mark, in this vein, from those few years he was here in the 1980’s?

Fr. Simon Lodge, another good friend of Fr. Mark’s, preached a beautiful homily in which he pointed out the spiritual background to the greatness of this loving priest. His words sprang from an awareness of Fr. Mark, of his own weaknesses, and his own demons. He knew his need for God and his love. Fr. Simon explained that Fr. Mark had, in some ways, the single-minded compassion of the Curé d’Ars, a saint that Fr. Mark admired. But, also, he had the gift of creating friendships and so was likened to St. Aelred of Rievaulx, the medieval English Cistercian, who wrote a famous treatise: “De Amicitia” (“About Friendship”), and whose abbey, Rievaulx, was well known to Fr. Mark, as its impressive ruins are only 5 miles or so from Ampleforth Abbey.

Fr. Mark also had a breadth of mind and heart, which was described by Fr. Richard Carter as follows:

“Mark had too many interests. He would draw you into the joys of reading, collecting memorabilia, music, art and his garden, just to mention a few.  He had a great love of plants and animals, and had an innate ability to communicate with them. I remember, one summer, a bird accidentally flew into the house and ‘froze’, on the floor with his big German Shepherd dog, ready to deal with this unwanted intruder.  Mark gently moved onto the floor, held out a finger for the bird to climb on and released it out of the window.  Mark had that kind of affinity with all living things.

In later life, he became interested in Buddhist teachings and, in particular, found a new prayer-life, in the art of meditation.  He reflects, in his diary – shortly before his death – how this brought him great consolation.  Also in retirement, he could pursue in more depth, his constant quest for knowledge and wisdom. He was a great one for jotting down extracts from great writers, writers that, he thought, captured the essence of life and existence, and he would burn with excitement, to share these finds with you.  His constant thirsting quest is summed up in a simple jotting from the Book of Ecclesiastes that he recently recorded: ‘No man can say his eyes have had enough of seeing, his ears enough of hearing’.”

Our time at his funeral was brought to a conclusion with a beautiful lunch, to which we three Ampleforth monks were invited by the Vicar General of the Leeds Diocese.  From all that I heard, it was evident that those of the diocesan priests felt Fr. Mark had been one of their most remarkable priests, from all down their history, and were filled with gratitude for the gift they felt they had received from the monastery of Ampleforth. At the same time, and as commented on above, Fr. Mark had felt that he had discovered his true vocation and happiness – that he was ‘at home’ – in the Leeds Diocese. With no attempt to put Fr. Mark onto a pedestal, I can say that, probably, he was carried up to God, by many angels – and deservedly so.

“Well done good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Lord.”

Father Jonathan

The following is a small extract from that conversation:

“At the World Youth Day in Rio de Janeiro, Pope Francis repeatedly declared: “God is real. He manifests himself today. God is everywhere.” These are phrases that echo the Ignatian expression “to seek and find God in all things.” So I ask the pope: “How do you seek and find God in all things?”

“What I said in Rio referred to the time in which we seek God,” he answers. “In fact, there is a temptation to seek God in the past or in a possible future. God is certainly in the past because we can see the footprints. And God is also in the future as a promise. But the ‘concrete’ God, so to speak, is today.”

Reading this, I was reminded of one of the most famous pieces of advice on how to lead our lives: it comes from St. Augustine of Hippo:

“TRUST the past to the mercy of God

The present to His love

The future to His providence”

(St. Augustine of Hippo)

These sage words of advice say quite clearly to me that God, Our Father in heaven, is a God of love and mercy – a God who will always take care of us, then, now and always, if we try to love Him in return, if we are truly sorry for the times we have offended him, and trust ourselves to His benevolence.

The Pope’s conversation, (as referred to by Father Jonathan), began by referring to the fact that we are all sinners.  Apart, that is, from Jesus and his Mother, Mary, it is true that we human beings – the rest of us – have all done – committed or omitted – things that have earned God’s displeasure.  Thus we do not deserve to be admitted as God’s friends to paradise, to live with Him in happiness through all eternity.  But, we believe God is merciful.  Firstly, he gave us his only Son as a means of redemption, and, secondly, if we are truly sorry for our sins, God will show us His mercy and forgiveness, thus showing us the promise of salvation, if we then try to do better and to love him, have faith in Him – especially when all of this is wrapped in hope.  John Bunyan put this beautifully:

“I would say to my soul, O my soul, this is not the place of despair; this is not the time to despair in. As long as mine eyes can find a promise in the Bible, as long as there is a moment left me of breath or life in this world, so long will I wait or look for mercy, so long will I fight against unbelief and despair.”  (John Bunyan (1628 – 1688))

So much for the past: as for the present, I think we can do no better than to ‘live’ and ‘breathe’ St Teresa of Avila’s Bookmark:

“Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing frighten you,

All things are passing;

God alone is changeless.

Patience gains all things.

Who has God wants nothing.

God alone suffices.” 

None of us can ever comprehend the majesty and greatness of God – his infinite power – or the extent of his never-ending love for each one of us.  Once we begin to have faith and belief in a Father who loves us to this extent, then the words of Jesus (and many others who tell us not to worry) follow automatically.  Jesus said:

“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”  (Matthew 6:25, 26)

When we look to the future, only God knows all that is still to come.  We do not know what is going to happen, in the next minute, the next hour, or the next day – let alone next year, a thousand, or even a million years from now.  Time expressed in such terms is a frightening prospect and so, in my humble opinion, it is better left to Him.  Certainly, it is of no use, no value at all, for us to concern ourselves with it.  We cannot influence it, cannot change it, for better or worse, only accept what comes – though we can trust in the goodness and love of God.

That latter thought is the saving grace, I think, for we must leave the future to God and his benevolence.  This means belief in him and hope that he will always help us in good times and in bad, and as I write these words, the thought crosses my mind as to how those who do not believe in a benevolent God, manage to go about their lives, without the reassurance of God’s presence and love.  The thought of a future without God’s help would surely drive one to depression and despair.  The future, with our God who loves us, gives us cause always for hope, and a belief that we can continue to cope.

“He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,

He sendeth more strength when the labors increase;

To added affliction he addeth his mercy,

To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.”

Annie Johnson Flint (1862-1932)

(An American poet and hymn composer who led a life of heartbreak and triumph, but who viewed all life from an eternal perspective)

Socius

Returning to my main theme and Walsingham’s great feast pertaining to Our Lady, the multitudinous ways in which we endeavour to honour Our Lady never cease to amaze me – a mark, no doubt of her greatness; her greatness is so above all our understanding that it defies description.  We try to model, or paint, realistic pictures of her – many so beautiful even they seem beyond comparison; we turn to prose and prayer – where the words expressed, supplementing the many art forms – go some way towards enlarging our understanding of Mary, Mother of God – our Mother also, and, in a rather curious and surprising way, our Sister.

Sadly, I am quite sure in my own heart, that all our efforts – though created with the very highest ideals – fall short of the target.  That does not mean we should not keep on trying, however, for Mary is deserving of our best efforts – now – always.  We honour her as the mother of God and as Our Mother.  We also know of her as one of two mainstays of the Holy Family, when Jesus was just a child – and as someone God’s Son could turn to, when a little older, for help, wisdom and compassion.  Joseph must have been aware of this, as no doubt Mary was his lifelong and very wonderful helpmate.  Later, Mary was to suffer, firstly in relation to Jesus’ leaving home, to follow his vocation, then to see him suffer, ignominiously, and to die the most gruesome death on a cross.

Mary then, apart from her compassionate and motherly gentle nature, must also have been a woman of resourcefulness in the bringing up of a family – in hard times it must be said – a woman of determination and unconquerable strength.  Should we ever picture in our minds a woman of mildness or gentility to the point of weakness, we would be quite wrong.  Such a person could not have withstood the kind of life that Mary chose to lead.  Yet, knowing something of what lay ahead – Jesus’ life, her life – she was ever obedient to the will of God – a lesson for us as regards obedience and dedication to her chosen vocation.

 The Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham

The feast of Our Lady of Walsingham dates back to Saxon times. In 1061, the Virgin Mary appeared to the Lady of the Manor, Richeldis de Faverches. This lady was taken ‘in spirit’ to Nazareth, shown the house where the Annunciation took place and asked by Our Lady to build a replica in Norfolk.  Mary promised that ‘Whoever seeks my help there will not go away empty-handed.’  The simple wooden house that was then built there soon became the focus of special devotion to Our Lady, and this at a time when travel to the Holy Land and other foreign places of worship, was quite difficult – impossible for most people. The ‘Holy House’ was later encased in stone to protect it from the elements.

In 1153, the Augustinian Canons founded a Priory to care for the spiritual needs of the pilgrims. Their magnificent Priory Church was added in the fifteenth century, though only the ruins of the Priory arch remain, today.

Walsingham became one of the foremost shrines of medieval Christendom. Among the pilgrims to the ‘Holy House’ were many royal visitors, and the ordinary people came in their thousands. In 1340, the Slipper Chapel was built at Houghton St Giles, a mile outside Walsingham. This was the final ‘station’ chapel on the way to Walsingham. It was here that pilgrims would remove their shoes to walk the final ‘Holy Mile’ to the Shrine barefoot.

All this – the Holy Shrine and the resorting thereto – the pilgrimages – and with them Walsingham’s claim to holiness was soon to come to an end. Henry VIII ordered the dissolution of the monasteries and in 1538 the Priory was closed, the ‘Holy House’ burned to the ground and the statue of Our Lady taken to London to be destroyed.

Hundreds of barren years passed until the Slipper Chapel, a 14th century wayside pilgrim chapel, was restored and pilgrimages to Walsingham began once again. On the Feast of the Assumption of Our Lady, 15 August 1934, the first Mass since the Reformation was offered in the Slipper Chapel, and a few days later Cardinal Bourne led the first pilgrimage of modern times to England’s National Shrine of Our Lady.

Procession at the Anglican National Pilgrimage to Walsingham

in the grounds of the ruined abbey, May 2003

Socius

“Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death, Amen”.

I wonder what we make of our acknowledgement of the word ‘sinner’. ‘Pray for us sinners’ implies that all who say that prayer is a sinner.  So you, dear reader, do you like to consider yourself to be a sinner? I have been in the company of very good Christians who think that the new translation of the Mass goes on too heavily about being a sinner.

In the new ‘I confess’ at the beginning of Mass the text includes:

 ”I confess to almighty God ….. that I have greatly sinned,……in my thoughts and in my words, …….through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.”

My good Catholic friends find the tone of this is far too serious for them, especially the words ‘my most grievous fault!’  These friends, whom I respect highly, also dislike the formula we say before Holy Communion as being in the same ‘too heavy’ direction: ‘Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.’  Personally, neither phrase offends me, because I do realise that I am a sinner, and sometimes  in my view, I have not been a mild one. However, God alone knows the seriousness of any sin.

Recently, in August this year, Pope Francis had a public conversation for the World-wide Jesuit Religious Order, of which he is a member, and the text was only released last week, after the strictest security: the Vatican Officials had not known about it until the conversation was published.

 Pope Francis with Fr. Antonio Spadaro SJ

A Big Heart Open to God: The exclusive interview with Pope Francis – August 2013

Editor’s Note:

This interview with Pope Francis took place over the course of three meetings during August 2013 in Rome. The interview was conducted in person by Antonio Spadaro, S.J., editor in chief of La Civiltà Cattolica, the Italian Jesuit journal. Father Spadaro conducted the interview on behalf of La Civiltà Cattolica, Thinking Faith, America and several other major Jesuit journals around the world. The editorial teams at each of the journals prepared questions and sent them to Father Spadaro, who then consolidated and organised them. The interview was conducted in Italian. After the Italian text was officially approved, a team of five independent experts were commissioned to produce the English translation.

The setting is simple, austere. The workspace occupied by the desk is small. I am impressed not only by the simplicity of the furniture, but also by the objects in the room. There are only a few. These include an icon of St. Francis, a statue of Our Lady of Luján, patron saint of Argentina, a crucifix and a statue of St. Joseph sleeping. The spirituality of Jorge Mario Bergoglio is not made of “harmonised energies,” as he would call them, but of human faces: Christ, St. Francis, St. Joseph and Mary.

The pope speaks of his trip to Brazil. He considers it a true grace, that World Youth Day was for him a “mystery.” He says that he is not used to talking to so many people: “I can look at individual persons, one at a time, to come into contact in a personal way with the person I have before me. I am not used to the masses,” the pope remarks. He also speaks about the moment during the conclave when he began to realise that he might be elected pope. At lunch on Wednesday, March 13, he felt a deep and inexplicable inner peace and comfort come over him, he said, along with a great darkness. And those feelings accompanied him until his election later that day.

The pope had spoken earlier about his great difficulty in giving interviews. He said that he prefers to think rather than provide answers on the spot in interviews. In this interview the pope interrupted what he was saying in response to a question several times, in order to add something to an earlier response. Talking with Pope Francis is a kind of volcanic flow of ideas that are bound up with each other. Even taking notes gives me an uncomfortable feeling, as if I were trying to suppress a surging spring of dialogue.

The first question and answer was as follows:

Who Is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?

I ask Pope Francis point-blank: “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?” He stares at me in silence. I ask him if I may ask him this question. He nods and replies: “I do not know what might be the most fitting description…. I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner.”

The pope continues to reflect and concentrate, as if he did not expect this question, as if he were forced to reflect further. “Yes, perhaps I can say that I am a bit astute, that I can adapt to circumstances, but it is also true that I am a bit naïve. Yes, but the best summary, the one that comes more from the inside and I feel most true is this: I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.” And he repeats: “I am one who is looked upon by the Lord. I always felt my motto, Miserando atque Eligendo [By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him], was very true for me.”

The motto is taken from the Homilies of Bede the Venerable, who writes in his comments on the Gospel story of the calling of Matthew: “Jesus saw a publican, and since he looked at him with feelings of love and chose him, he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” The pope adds: “I think the Latin gerund miserando is impossible to translate in both Italian and Spanish. I like to translate it with another gerund that does not exist: misericordiando [“mercy-ing”].

The calling of St. Matthew by Caravaggio 1599-1600

Pope Francis continues his reflection and says, jumping to another topic: “I do not know Rome well. I know a few things. These include the Basilica of St. Mary Major; I always used to go there. I know St. Mary Major, St. Peter’s…but when I had to come to Rome, I always stayed in [the neighbourhood of] Via della Scrofa. From there I often visited the Church of St. Louis of France, and I went there to contemplate the painting of ‘The Calling of St. Matthew,’ by Caravaggio.

“That finger of Jesus, pointing at Matthew. That’s me. I feel like him. Like Matthew.” Here the pope becomes determined, as if he had finally found the image he was looking for: “It is the gesture of Matthew that strikes me: he holds on to his money as if to say, ‘No, not me! No, this money is mine.’ Here, this is me, a sinner on whom the Lord has turned his gaze. And this is what I said when they asked me if I would accept my election as pontiff.” Then the pope whispers in Latin: “I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance.”

=====================================

Perhaps Pope Francis will throw light onto the meaning of the second half of the Hail Mary for some of us….. And if you are interested in reading the rest of the interview (which is fascinating and long) you will find it on our St. Mary’s website under the Bulletin tab and then scroll to the first option, bulletin home. There are many headings and you might like to read one topic only and then return to the whole talk later.

Father Jonathan

“We played pipes for you,

and you wouldn’t dance;

we sang dirges,

and you wouldn’t cry.” 

“For John the Baptist comes, not eating bread, not drinking wine and you say, ‘He is possessed.’ The Son of Man comes, eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ Yet Wisdom has been proved right by her children.”

How often do I do the same as those that Jesus observes in his own day: I see something and I am critical almost immediately, rather than reflecting and pausing – thus avoiding the making of a knee-jerk reaction. For instance, I can meet a foreigner with a different coloured skin, and immediately think: “Be careful, Jonathan, he or she may be after something”, when, in practice, I could find a ‘diamond’ inside him, or her. Sometimes, a difficulty comes our way, and we can see only the tragedy of the situation, rather than the ‘silver lining’ that every challenge (‘cloud’) brings. Our High School fire has been like that; it has caused great anxiety for many of the parents, students and teachers, never mind to those who are responsible for finding reasonable accommodation, for the continuing education of our pupils. The Head Teacher is adamant: this must not be made an excuse by anyone – teacher or pupil – for not doing well in the exams that some will take next year. All are invited to take up the challenge, pull together in order to do well, to focus very strongly and, God willing, it will draw the best out of everybody. Examination results may even be better than expected. God has allowed this to happen, and now it is up to all of us involved to respond, and be positive. I was touched that a recent winner of the 500 Club, a parishioner, has donated the £100 winnings to the School Disaster Fund; moreover, two Anglican vicar friends have sent a total of £350 to the same fund, ‘out of the blue’! What good will and goodness has come out of disaster!

Jesus, in this episode, is pointing out, in practice without naming it, how we look at things from below, not from above. We do not have the ‘pure eye’ to see: “Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness.” (Lk 11: 34) The ‘high-up’ people of Jesus’ time criticised both John the Baptist, and Jesus; in this, they were unable to see the goodness, the salvation, the freedom, the presence of God they wanted to share.

Last week, I read a meditation by an Italian Missionary, a person I’ve known a long time, and he has thrown light for me on all of this. His meditation is called “Throw away your own life”:

“When Peter declared to Jesus that he was the Messiah he didn’t expect Jesus’ response: ‘You have spoken well! Be aware though that I will finish up on the cross’. Peter was utterly shocked.

Some Greeks wanted to see Jesus. Jesus also told them that he ‘would be lifted up on the cross’. We don’t know how the Greeks reacted. We know our own view on the matter. Like that of Peter?

For Jesus, the cross is the hour of his glory, the fullness of revelation, of salvation which will be completed when there is unity. He uses the image of the grain of wheat that will bear ‘much fruit’. If it does not die ‘it remains alone’. It must be destroyed to multiply, if not it remains just a grain of wheat.

Jesus is not inventing anything: he is simply explaining how he lives from all time with the Father and the Holy Spirit. The three are the model community precisely because each one ‘dies’ in the other out of love. This is their ‘glory’, they do what nobody else manages to do, they square the circle; they are three and they are one. They throw away their life and they rediscover all of it, completely fulfilled.

Jesus invites us to do the same; ‘Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life’ (John 12, 25). It seems absurd. We could do an experiment. Life is like a flower that God has placed in your hand. If we want to defend that life at all costs for ourselves, we could close our hands on it and it will remain in our fist and all the petals will be ruined. It we take a risk and leave our hand open, everyone can enjoy the flower which will remain intact also for us.

‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself’.” 

That meditation throws light on the childish selfishness of those in the Gospel who could see no more, but only criticise St. John the Baptist, and Jesus, though they behaved in opposite ways. We all have a tendency to do the same, if the ‘eye’ of our heart is not pure.

The famous 15^th Century icon of the Holy Trinity – Andrei Rublev  

Father Jonathan

“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

The Conversion of Saul

Apart from having officiated at the martyrdom by stoning of the first martyr, St. Stephen, Saul was an ardent hater of the followers of Jesus, and before beginning his journey to Damascus, he had been to see the High Priest and had asked for letters of authority, empowering him to arrest Christians, and bring them bound to Jerusalem:

“But Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any belonging to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem.”

The ‘voice’ then told Saul to get up and to go into Damascus, when he would be given further instructions.  Saul’s companions took him to Damascus where he remained sightless for three days, neither eating nor drinking.  Now in the city there was a disciple called Ananias and the Lord appeared to him, told him about Saul, and where he was.  Ananias was told to go to Saul and to lay his hands on him in order that he may be cured.  And so it came to pass – Saul was cured of his blindness by the laying-on of hands.  After this, he was baptised under the new name of Paul, and he became a disciple of Jesus – the one who would take the Good News to the Gentiles.

From all of this, the conversion of St. Paul, we then have the truth that Paul became one of Jesus’ greatest disciples, one who endured many sufferings and later a martyr’s death in order to bring God’s word to the many peoples of foreign lands – to those who had never heard of Jesus – and, in so doing, he began the international evangelisation of peoples, then and since – a movement that eventually spread to the whole world.  Think of the importance of St. Paul – his position in the grand scheme of Christianity, yesterday and today; think of his letters to the Corinthians, the Colossians, Romans …. the list goes on and on. Almost half of the books in the New Testament have been attributed to him. Think of the importance of what he had to say – think of his words of wisdom on all sorts of matters that still affect our everyday lives – our relationships with God and with the Word of God.  His influence on Christian thought and practice has long been characterised as being ‘as profound as it is pervasive’ – an influence that is just as strong today as it ever was.

 Today’s Ruined Cities of Syria

But, there is another quite different ‘Road to Damascus’, we hear of in 2013, and this for quite different reasons – most of which are concerned with a bitter civil war that has been raging for a couple of years and more – a war in which hundreds of thousands of people have been killed. The majority of these dead are just ordinary humble and poor people, trying to live their lives in a kind of ‘hell’, and they include a huge number of young children, infants and youths.  On top of this, millions of the ordinary Syrian population have lost their homes, the majority having been reduced to rubble by heavy artillery, rockets and other types of ordnance; to all of this must be added the millions that have fled their homeland and become refugees in neighbouring countries such as Turkey, Kurdish Iraq, Jordan, and the Lebanon.

 Victims of Chemical Attacks in Damascus

In the last month, not content with hitting our headlines on virtually every daily news bulletin, for the reasons given in the last paragraph, Syria – and Damascus in particular – has been in our news for quite a different reason.  It has been reported that, on the 21 August, many hundreds of men, women and children were either seriously injured, or killed, by the indiscriminate use of chemical weapons on the city’s population.  The allegations are that the country’s ‘president’ – in Syria’s case, a word that is synonymous with ‘dictator’ – was responsible for the use of such internationally condemned weapons on a section of his own people, and this has given way to international abhorrence, condemnation and calls for the use of armaments by western forces: 1) to show the president and his generals that he cannot escape detection in the use of such prohibited weaponry, 2) to punish him and his government forces in some way – a punitive action – for the use of them, essentially, and 3) to dissuade him and his forces from ever using such weapons again in the future.

Not surprisingly, the United Nations Security Council permanent members, USA, UK, France – at odds with Russia and China – also with other western governments have been debating the issues, vehemently; many have been arguing for the use of military force against Syria; opposed to such action, many have been saying that the western powers should not get involved. The British Government has decided not to become involved, militarily, and the US President has decided that he is going to refer the whole question to Congress.  For the moment, therefore, no punitive military actions are being planned, and many governments, authorities and peoples are thankful for this input of what they see as common sense – as opposed to the ‘knee jerk’ reactions that were being advocated by the military ‘hawks’, always ready to put forward their ‘act now, pay later’ approach.

At this stage, I can almost hear you ask the question just what is this blog all about?  What has St. Paul and his conversion on the road to Damascus got to do with the Damascus of today?  And the answer, I think, is that there is a significant connection – a connection that has to do with the power of evil.

St. Paul was engaged in what he later came to acknowledge as a resolve to ‘put down’, to destroy, the early movement towards Christianity; he was prepared to use any means to that end – even murder. He referred to himself as a “Hebrew born of Hebrews” at Tarsus, and his vocation at the time was to protect the only way of life he knew – very much a ‘right wing’ Jewish way.  Later, having come to know Jesus, he admitted that his actions had been wrong, that he deserved to be punished for those actions by God, and that he did not deserve to be redeemed and go to heaven.  But, true sorrow and reconciliation with God, and His Word, can go a long way – they worked wonders for St. Paul, and, small wonder it is today, then, that Paul is regarded as one of the greatest of the saints and martyrs.

That was then, 33 to 36 AD, and the power of evil was at work.  Bring the whole picture up to date and we have the same influences at work, once again.  Civil war, in itself, is a great evil, and so is the victimisation of a population – of one’s own people.  The use of air power and of all kinds of weaponry against a mostly unarmed population is analogous to such evil; fighting on both sides – official and rebellious – cannot bring forth good, and the use of indiscriminate methods of mass murder – extermination almost – has the ‘stink of badness’ about it.  Similarly, the use of external force, by foreign countries, not involved in the civil conflict, can cause great harm – and always with the possibility of cataclysmic consequences for the whole region.

It seems to me that, after all the advances that have been made in human knowledge – despite the experience of centuries of living ‘side by side’, individually, socially, nationally and internationally, we still cannot resolve our differences peacefully.  Peacefully, is God’s way!  Fighting is our way – most of the time.  Man, what are we to do with man?  Perhaps we could do no better than to go back to St. Paul and his letter on the value of love.  His words, describing what love is, are just about the most touching, the most gentle, the most beautiful, I have ever read on the subject.  Were we to adopt them – even a little more than we presently do – then human society could at least give itself a ‘pat on the back’, for once; just think how many lives might be saved, just think of the added sums of money we would then be able to spend on looking after the poor, the starving, the sick and the downtrodden, of human populations across the world, as an alternative option to the buying of armaments and the maintenance of armed forces.

When, when, when are we going to learn the lesson?

Socius

Father Jonathan adds a very important rider to the above:

“Rule in Syria has always been tyrannical, but it was never a country growing up, organically, like England; essentially, it was a territory imposed fairly recently on diverse peoples,.

My own view is that this Syrian crisis, with all the evil, the smell of the devil inside it, is affecting the hearts of millions and millions all over the world.  It is a very dangerous situation – a ‘powder keg’ of emotions, if you like.

My clear impression is that there is good and bad on both sides in this civil war. There are many factions in the mix. The majority of Christians remaining in Syria are on the side of the Government. Amongst the ‘freedom fighters’ or rebel ‘opposition’ to government forces are many shades of fundamentalism, and the fear is that they will take over if they can; they are manipulative and unable to see the others’ points of view, whether religious, or of the ‘Al Quaida’ persuasion; there are many other varieties besides. In the mix is the pride of politicians, and trying to ‘save face’ on all sides.  

I do not wish to be too simplistic, but all this amounts, as I say to a very dangerous situation; this may be the price being paid with the loss of so many poor, innocent lives, in order that the good of the future can emerge – through untold suffering. It is like Jesus dying on the cross again, and again, and again, all the while feeling abandoned by God.

In putting forward these comments, I need to be careful of quick judgements about what is going on in Syria. The same has been true over events in Iraq and Afghanistan. What a world!! 

However, I loved the BBC Correspondent Jeremy Bowen’s report, when a man on the Government side said yesterday: “We from Syria have given you St. Paul, (as is portrayed so well in the blog, above); you have given us terrorists!”

This also may be a little too simplistic, but he has a point.”

Last Saturday night, we in Leyland, joined with millions around the world to pray at a ‘last minute request’ from Pope Francis; there were thousands in St. Peter’s Square, with the Pope, concomitant with our small congregation in our own Blessed Sacrament Chapel. But God has listened to our prayers, because the proposed strikes into Syria have been delayed. Consequent on – and subsequent to – the Russian intervention offering to monitor, on behalf of the international community, the control and surrender of Syria’s chemical weapons, Syria’s President has said he will agree to the bringing of all such weapons under international control.  Let us at last hope that these initiatives are given the chance to succeed, and thus steer the world away from further conflagration.   

Wrightington St. Joseph’s stood in need of priestly assistance that Sunday, and so the two morning Masses, plus the Baptisms, became part of my duties. As usual, It was a privilege to be able to preside at these quite wonderful, Godly moments. Lunch was a 10 minute affair, because at 2.00 pm a group of 20 of us were due to prepare a beautiful, and simple, four-part song that we hope to perform on Saturday 26 October, at Hope University; it was entitled: “We believe in Love”. We learnt it, and sang it with enthusiasm and joy, because it was based on a saying of the girls, during the bombing in Trent, North Italy, during the Second World War, 1943, a meeting that became the origin of the Focolare Movement. The Spirit that God generated in them has since spread throughout the world; that same spirit affected all of us, learning the song, some seven decades later.  Should they have died under the bombing raids, they were adamant in wanting on their tomb-stone those simple words: “We believed in Love” – so simple, yet so profound!

The year 2013 marks the Golden Anniversary of the Focolare Movement, in Liverpool, and Hope University will host the Celebrations; it is, perhaps, significant that Hope University  was the seat of learning at which Chiara Lubich received an honorary degree, January 2008, in Divinity, for the contribution of the Focolare Movement: “to the life of the Church, to peace and harmony in society, to the unity of Christians of different denominations, and to dialogue and understanding between religions”.  On 26 October, Professor Pillay, the Anglican Vice Chancellor of Hope University, who presented Chiara Lubich with her degree, will give a talk on the contribution of Chiara Lubich and the Focolare to the future of the Church – all part of what is sure to be a joyous day.

Chiara Lubich (left) and some of her first companions in the 1940’s

In the middle of our joyful and lively experience, that Sunday, the telephone rang and a friend and parishioner told me: “The school is on fire on Royal Avenue”. This, of course, is the location of our High School, so I quickly rang the Head Teacher and off I went.  What followed was a devastating experience watching the school burn down in front of my eyes, despite the calm, professional, hard-working fire-fighters doing all they could to contain, and control, the fire – 145 of them, with at least 15 different fire engines, and innumerable other items of equipment. Their job was nigh impossible! However, their valiant efforts saved one third of the school buildings. The teachers present, and myself, wept – if not externally – certainly internally. It was like seeing a friend being killed, before our very eyes. Respite came late that Sunday night, after watching the fire for so long.

St Mary’s Catholic Technology College Leyland on fire

“We believe in Love”! On that day, as I saw the School burning, I could not help but think of Syria and the wicked use of chemical weapons on the people of Damascus. How much burning there is in that war – lives lost, too – without any of the calm professionals who came to help us. Many die from fire, and other ghastly things, in war, and to what end? What was the point of this fire, tragically started by some young lads? In our case, nobody was injured, nobody died. School buildings, that had just had £250,000 spent on them, were destroyed – yes! Bricks and mortar, plus contents went up in smoke. In Syria, at least 100,000 have died, many more have been injured and there are in excess of two million refugees – a tenth of the population of some 20 million people.

That same day, Pope Francis at his Angelus message, spoke out strongly against further violence in Syria. I would suspect that, all over the world, the suffering of the Syrians over the past two years is searing the hearts of men and women of every religion (and none). It certainly tears my heart apart and the hearts of many I meet. His Holiness was very forceful:

“Today, dear brothers and sisters, I wish to add my voice to the cry which rises up with increasing anguish from every part of the world, from every people, from the heart of each person, from the one great family which is humanity: it is the cry for peace! It is a cry which declares with force: we want a peaceful world, we want to be men and women of peace, and we want in our society, torn apart by divisions and conflict, that peace break out! War never again! Never again war! Peace is a precious gift, which must be promoted and protected….. My heart is deeply wounded in particular by what is happening in Syria and anguished by the dramatic developments which are looming……

How much suffering, how much devastation, how much pain has the use of arms carried in its wake in that martyred country, especially among civilians and the unarmed! I think of many children will not see the light of the future! With utmost firmness I condemn the use of chemical weapons: I tell you that those terrible images from recent days are burned into my mind and heart.

 May the plea for peace rise up and touch the heart of everyone so that they may lay down their weapons and be let themselves be led by the desire for peace.

To this end, brothers and sisters, I have decided to proclaim for the whole Church on 7 September next, the vigil of the birth of Mary, Queen of Peace, a day of fasting and prayer for peace in Syria, the Middle East, and throughout the world, and I also invite each person, including our fellow Christians, followers of other religions and all men of good will, to participate, in whatever way they can, in this initiative.”

At the same time, I am touched by the generosity of so many in our local community, who want to help us in the aftermath of our dreadful fire. Parents and children are worried – and so are the teachers! There has been so much work, behind the scenes, and it is good news that is proposed, but not yet finalised.

Generosity breeds generosity, and we at St. Mary’s, propose a day of fasting and prayer, on Saturday, alongside the whole world for Syria. We will have a vigil, in Church, from 7.00 pm until midnight, this at the same time that Pope Francis will be praying.  All are welcome, and we will try to make it as light as possible.

Finally, the following images of the cross, salvaged from the entrance of our burnt-out school, and the little statue of the desolate Virgin Mary the only thing left in the teachers’ staff room, give a profound meaning to what underlies all these tragedies: they show the reason why all of us are invited: “to believe in Love”.

The Remains of the School Crucifix and Statue of Our Lady, Desolate

 Father Jonathan

It was late in the afternoon that I strolled that day to a neighbouring street to see a family that had suffered the loss of their son. He was young: just 34 years of age.

As usual, the parents were welcoming, offering a cup of tea, and we got talking about what had happened. Their young son’s partner was present, very quiet and demure. Quite soon the parents confessed to me: “We are not very religious, Father!” and, with that in mind, we continued our conversation, they eager to tell me about their son, and I listened quietly, saying little, but trying to support them in their sadness.  After a period of about 25 minutes, I asked them if they would like to pray; at this, the father remarked simply, “it cannot do any harm”, and we said some traditional prayers together. In all of this, I felt for these two people, mother and father, as what can only be described as good and friendly people, involved in a very sad event in their lives: in no way did I ever feel at all superior to them, and it was as though I was learning from them and their tragic experience.

I left their house pondering on what had happened, and on the statement they had made: “We are not very religious, Father!”  What can it mean when people say they are ‘not very religious’?

As I live, day by day, I do not think of, i.e. concentrate on, ‘being religious’. Rather, I struggle with being human. When I was a young and still a much ‘unformed’ person, I used to hear people saying to me: “Be yourself, Jonathan”, and in those days, I could not understand what such words of advice really meant. As I grew older and more mature, I began to realise that ‘being myself’ meant ‘giving of myself’, because by this time, I had discovered what ‘unselfish giving of love’, and the ‘unselfish receiving of love’ were all about; both terms describe actions that involve the undemanding ‘opening up’ of oneself to another; truly, I believe, they describe the essence of what makes us human. They are the basis for a right and proper human existence.  Experience teaches us that life’s troubles come the way of each and every individual, and it is at such times, that it is more important to be giving of self. It is at such times that the open heart, giving of itself, can be seen manifest in the virtues, like patience, (with me, and others), fortitude, (in enduring difficulties), mercy, (when others, or I, let down God, or my neighbour), silence, (when that is called for), and speaking, (when that is also appropriate); overall endeavouring towards being helpful, rather than an obstacle to life’s progress. For myself, however, I still feel the need to be ‘formed’ more fully, even in my older years.

With the passing of years, also, I have discovered that it is only with others that I will be able to make my journey through this life. There is no other way, and the other person is no longer a threat, but always a gift for me. As the saying goes, ‘No Man is an Island’. This is because the same spark of love – that gift of God that I perceive in myself – I can also perceive in the other, but I do not consider this to be the essence of ‘being religious’. It simply makes for being more human!

During the day I like to talk to Jesus. In such moments, I am talking to a living human / divine being who knows my innermost thoughts and all the things that make up my life.  I like to be in communion with Him, sharing with him, fully, in the joy of knowing him. He understands me and I know him as a friend who will never let me down. He rebuilds me within, when I know things have gone wrong, for whatever reason. He gives me the courage to make it up – reconcile – with others and with God. As to God the Father, it is not that he is ‘affected’ by anything I do, but I can realise that the relationship I have with him, is not right, from time to time. This is simply what it means to be human, and as humans, everyone needs relationships and help; each of us can give such help if we are so minded.  In the final analysis, we are born in the same way that others are born, we die as others die, and between the two life-changing events, we need one another. We did not ask to be born – our life is a gift – and, once living, we do need to be fulfilling life’s purpose. I see the many suicides that occur as a sign that some, perhaps many, find little or no purpose in living.

As I remarked earlier, we are not ‘islands’, and to be human involves associating with others and the building up of a commonality. To belong to a community that worships, together, the Creator and Redeemer and the Holy One who give us life, is not especially religious, but a human reality. It is a part of a ‘common good’ for all, and that ‘common good’ leads to peaceful co-existence, and, much more positively, an enjoyment of the innumerable differences between us, but in harmony with others.

Hence I am not sure what ‘being religious’ means. Perhaps someone else could enlighten me?

Father Jonathan

One of the images of Our Lady that remains in my mind from childhood, is that of a beautiful lady wearing a crown of gold, with a halo of 12 stars around her head.  She is looking down on us, her children, whilst under her foot is the serpent, its head being crushed by her purity and transcendent goodness.  Ok, so it’s a childhood fantasy – but is there not also a very serious adult message in all of this?

I recall some words from Father Jonathan’s blog of last week.  After setting the scene for the Assumption of Mary into heaven, he went on to describe her vital role in the salvation of mankind, in that she was instrumental in bringing God’s Word to us.  He began with some words of reassurance regarding Our Lady:

“It is because of the Word of God – and in the Word of God – that we can be sure of victory. The role of Mary is that of total and absolute unity with the Word, and she leads us to him.”

Father’s words of reassurance were an ‘antidote’ to his words of warning just a little earlier:

“Directly opposed to this letting God’s Word live in us is, of course, the very powerful evil one, who is out to destroy all that is good, all union with God, and all communion and real love between people.”

And so, the mind of a child sets out for us – does it not – some of the very real truths we still need to live by?  On the one hand we have God in all his majesty, goodness and love for mankind – his creation.  From his ‘hands’ we have the Word of God, brought to us by Mary, his Mother, and, through the auspices of Son and Mother, we are brought redemption and the very real chance of salvation of our souls, the promise of heaven and a life of eternal happiness with God, Our Father.  Then as Father pointed out, on the other hand we have that awful and dreaded prospect of sin and death should we turn our backs to God, deny Him and His goodness, and ‘lie down’ with the serpent, and then, rather sadly, to be crushed by Mary’s heel.

Mary, we believe, was assumed body and soul into heaven, once her earthly life came to an end.  After that, we also believe that she was crowned Queen of Heaven – and all this because of her vital role in the salvation and redemption of mankind – a role that she performed, perfectly, as a life-long vocation.  Small wonder, then, that she was rewarded by God for her great contribution to the good of the human race.

All this came about, in the first instance, because of a thought that came in my head about the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’, wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony.  I was mulling over what sin was about, the really big ones and then the ones no one seems to bother about today – the smaller less serious offences that are still offensive to God.  I had another thought in mind and that concerned St. Teresa of Avila.  As a nun she had many periods of acute illness, during which she claimed that exercises in meditation took her from her lowest stage, ‘recollection’, to ‘devotions of silence’ and even to ‘devotions of ecstasy’, the last stage being one of perfect union with God.  It was at such times that the distinction between mortal and venial sin became clear to her, and on this note she said: “… she came to understand the awful terror of sin and the inherent nature of original sin. She also became conscious of her own natural impotence in confronting sin, and the necessity of absolute subjection to God”.

Going back to Father Jonathan’s earlier point, concerning evil, a fear now reinforced by St. Teresa, we have recourse to only one way out and that must be God’s way.  God’s way is followed to the ultimate degree by God’s Son, the Word of God, by Mary, his Mother, and by all the saints and martyrs down the ages.  We try to follow – I am sure – but often fail.  However, we must never give up hope, and, if we keep on trying our best, then we shall be rewarded by God’s favour, eventually; we can be sure of that.

Talk of sins and sinning is not a very popular subject these days.  Most of us would rather discuss matters of a more pleasant nature, and thus our concentration moves away from the wrongs people do themselves, and towards other people.  Our newspaper headlines are full of stories that outline all the ingredients of the Deadly Sins mentioned above, and society appears to be doing very little about it.  In fact we appear to be going from bad to worse, most of the time, and consciences no longer seem to prick, as they once did.  If they still do, then the points are not as sharp!

As a population, we may draw the line at child cruelty, torture and the killing of a child of tender years, but there is a deadly selection and plenty more of quite horrendous and heinous crimes, in the rest of the list – terrorism, murder, rape, conspiracy and corruption, to say nothing of all kinds of abuse on children, youths, young men and women – and a great deal of the latter types of offence appears to have gone on for years, without credence, without discovery, and without punishment for many years.  The other very worrying factor in all of this is that many of the most serious types of offences are being committed by people, not of the lower orders – the ‘working class’ brigade – but by people in higher authority, people in positions of trust, people in the public eye – and many have become accustomed to the use of their name, rank and position to escape the natural consequences of their actions.  It is, in my view, a rather sad reflection on the England of today.  However, it is not just our own country that is in a mess – look at the rest of the world – and then think again about the power of the evil one!

The last paragraph seems to rob this blog of all hope – but that is not the intention – not by any means!  We began with Mary and her Coronation in heaven.  She and her Son, Jesus, are enough – and more – to bring us back to God’s promise.  Crowned Queen of heaven, she is our solace, our advocate, our fount of mercy and our hope.  She will always lead us to Jesus and to God Our Father, and she is always the victor in any fight against evil.  She lived that way all her life, and should we ask for her help, she will always fight in ‘our corner’ and help us to win through.   She is, after all, our mother too, and she loves us with a mother’s love – just as she loved – still loves – Jesus.

Our Lady, Queen of Peace, Queen of Heaven and our most gentle Queen and Mother – Pray for us.

Socius