A Happy and Holy Christmas to all who may read this blog

	A Modern Nativity Scene

The Christmas Story conjures up such a scene of domestic love, with Joseph, Mary and the new born baby – a scene that is quite ‘ordinary’ in one sense – and so it is, but at the same time, ‘mind-bogglingly’ amazing to think that here is pictured the ‘dawn’ of our ‘redemption’. Of course, in reality, it must have been a pretty difficult time for them, and therefore, reflecting on the two main protagonists, Joseph and Mary, the love they had for each other must have been very strong. They had gone through so much – so many problems – before arriving at Bethlehem; both knew that what was happening to them was in the hands of God, whom they loved and obeyed, but there were massive problems involving close families and the rest of the small community in Nazareth over Mary’s ‘unexplained’ pregnancy.  But, they trusted in God, for He had arranged the whole adventure, and it would not be too fanciful to expect them to be alert to the prophecy, in the Prophet Micah, about Bethlehem:

 “But you (Bethlehem) Ephrathah, the least of the clans of Judah, from you will come for me a future ruler of Israel whose origins go back to the distant past”. 

It is possible, even within serious difficulties, to remain trusting, loving and even cheerful. I know a fairly young parishioner, who is seriously ill with cancer, and the weaker and more debilitated he becomes, so his spirit seems the stronger. He puts this down to the power of God, not really being able to explain it.  In fact, there may be no other reasonable explanation. 

To wish somebody a ‘Holy Christmas’ must mean that God is involved. Recently, I met another young man who is not sure of God’s existence, largely because he feels that God is ‘remote’. What a pity that so many do not know God as their close friend – a friend who intervenes, and helps us in the detail of our lives! Such is the invitation we have from God, if we make a choice to believe in Him, and to do His will. The ‘Good News’ is that, if we sometimes fail and fall, not following his will, God can reconcile us to Himself when we turn back to Him; trust me, the good that comes out of that experience, can be stronger than the evil that we fell into, when we turned away from Him. How foolish it is that Christians do not take advantage of their faults, failures and weaknesses – the ‘sludge in the heart’ – by turning their faces back once more to God and crying: ‘Help’! ‘Mercy’ would have nothing to do, if there were not those who keep ‘Mercy’ working in answer to their own weaknesses. God is all Love and Mercy, and he cannot let us experience Him as a close friend, if we think we don’t need Him when, in fact, we all do. This is the positive side of a negative experience; the worst thing possible – the unthinkable – happening to me, is not ill-health, but the loss of my relationship with God, and that means, by sinning, to turn away from Him; forgiveness is the key that opens up that intimate relationship with God, once more. All this is written in the Scriptures, and the ‘Benedictus’ puts it this way: 

“You (John the Baptist) shall go ahead of the Lord to prepare his ways before him, to make known to his people their salvation through forgiveness of all their sins.” 

Knowing Jesus is our salvation. ‘Knowing a person” means not just intellectual knowledge, but is so much more concerned with our very human instincts, our innermost feelings – our whole being. According to the Scripture, we know the person of God through the forgiveness of our sins. This is why a person once said to me, that after celebrating Reconciliation, they felt they ‘floated’ as they walked home. Please be assured, there is nothing remote about this; it is something intrinsically personal and essentially intimate. 

A text received from a priest friend in Dublin, as these words are written, says: 

“I wish you and the family joy: the joy of looking forward to meeting old friends; the joy of being with people who love you and care for you and whom you love and care about; the joy of realising that there is a God who believes in you and who cares about you, and who loves you very much! Have a pleasant and happy Christmas. 

This text almost completes the ‘circle’ of this blog, for it brings us back to the homely love of family, with the Holy Family as our model.  However, there is one further connected thought that I wish to put to you and this concerns our Holy Father, the Pope. 

A Christmas Card from the Vatican

Finally, in wishing everyone a Happy Christmas, it is worth knowing that Pope Benedict will be doing “Thought For The Day”, at 7.45 am, on Radio 4, during the “Today programme” – the first time a Pope has ever done this. The Christmas card above has come from the Vatican, and so I share it with everyone. It shows the Holy Family and seems to point to the Holiness of God, by means of the reverence in the postures of Mary and Joseph, the person holding the Cross of St. George, St. Dominic with his sign in Latin that says: “Fear God whose hour is coming” as he sees the devil over his shoulder, the shepherds, and even the angels in heaven. Pictured here is the origin of our Redemption and God is very close. God bless us all at Christmas!

 At Christmas time, it is such an enjoyable thing to make contact with people you have not seen, or spoken to for ages. Memories of time spent together, with people who are still friends, flood back into the heart, and yet, God has arranged things in such a way, that, regrettably, it is impossible to spend time with these people any more; time has ‘moved on’, life has ‘moved on’, people have ‘moved on’. 

All of we individuals lead our lives at a pace which suits us, our needs, our personalities; we all have a different pace of personal life, and that, in itself, is neither a positive nor a negative. That’s the way it is in our temporal – our secular lives – if you like! But, in the terms of Christian life, all that counts is the ‘Love’ that we build into our lives, whether they are busy, or ones that are more ‘laid back’ – I think today’s young would use the word ‘cool’. Under God’s ordnance, every life, each and every one of billions, past, present and future, is unique in its entirety. Take, for instance, our Saint Thérèse of Lisieux.  She lived a life that was obscure and ‘lost’ in an enclosed Carmelite monastery of nuns. Yet, she is better known than almost all of her contemporaries, who were ‘dashing about’ from ‘pillar to post’, ‘fulfilling’ their vocations as teachers, business men or women, mums and dads, priests or whatever! But, just why is she so well known – and loved? The answer, I think, is because she lived, as best she could, the ‘ideal’ that God had put before her, and that included doing ‘with love’ every little task that God asked of her, within that obscure life. She wrote her biography ‘The Story of a Soul’, only because she was asked to write it – not for spurious recognition, or vain glory. Thus, Saint Thérèse is not only better known than most of her contemporaries – she also has a continuing influence so many, many years after her death, over one hundred years ago, because of her writings.

(1) Saint Thérèse of Lisieux (2) Cardinal, Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan 

Another contemporary ‘hero’ of mine is the Vietnamese Cardinal, Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan, who died just eight years ago. During his life, he spent 14 years in a Communist prison – on the ‘face’ of it, totally inactive – yet those years led to the production of a beautiful book, ‘The Road of Hope’, consisting, essentially, of one thousand little thoughts, ‘smuggled’ out of his prison, to encourage the Catholic faithful in Vietnam, who were being deprived of their beloved pastor. He, too, is still a massive influence on people today. Just to quote one of these sayings, (No. 487); “You must discover that you can – and indeed have the duty – to sanctify yourselves in and through marriage” – a most helpful thought, as we approach the family feast of Christmas.

Shopping for Christmas Cards – or any kind of shopping, for that matter – is not something that occupies much of my attention. I have some lovely cards, purchased from our Piety Shop, and these I am sending, with joy, to many of my friends. On the receiving ‘end’, however, our postman delivered one the other day, addressed to me, and one specially chosen for its suitability, I am sure! 

It pleases me to publish the card in this blog; from a twelfth century illuminated Psalter in the British Museum, it shows the three wise men – on their horses – as typical ‘English nobility’, of that period. All three are pointing up to the ‘Star of Wonder’ they had been following. Now, that illustration must have been done by an unknown, 12^th Century monk, and I can picture him in my mind, working diligently away in a cold monastic cell, with great love and joy, his ‘purpose to fulfil’. Study his work and you will get the feeling that those ‘Three Wise Men’ are joyful, and expectant, because they have the ‘Star’ to follow – something of great importance giving direction to their lives. I dwell on all this and, in my heart, know that we need that ‘Star’, the ‘Star’ pointing to the all-embracing ‘Love’ that God has for each one of us.  I also know that we, all of us, are invited to follow – doing God’s will – in our own way, and with ‘Love’, whatever our circumstances. As we follow, we, too, will feel the same joy and even excitement in our hearts – led by Love – responding to Love. 

Inside the card there is a reflection from Chiara Lubich that I would like to share:

“I think Christmas never grows old,

because it is deeply human,

as well as a divine mystery.

God, in becoming man, raised us all

to the dizzy heights of the divine;

at the same time he allows us to come close to it,

disclosing its mystery to people in ecstasy.

Christmas means the warmth of the family,

the amazing phenomenon of motherhood,

the continuity of life through fatherhood.

Christmas means, for the Christian and for all –

besides the dawn of the Redemption –

the day in which humanity rediscovers itself, its true self,

because it is grafted into God.

For me the word ‘ecstasy’ (poem para.2 above) refers to those who are able to go beyond – to transcend – their own worries, pre-occupations or self-centredness, and let the Mystery of the Divine enter their hearts in wondering contemplation. Unless you are ‘outside’ yourself, that will not be possible; take a ‘step back’, and have a good look at yourself, and you will see what I mean. As we journey onward towards Christmas 2010, may we share something of this joy – this pure delight in God. Christmas cards are not all ‘hum-bug’ as ‘Scrooge’ would have it – they can have a positive and quite wonderful effect – on senders and receivers!

“Remember O most loving Virgin Mary, that it is a thing unheard of that anyone ever had recourse to thy protection and was left forsaken…. …”

 (part of the Memorare, a famous prayer calling on Mary,

Mother of God, to intercede for us). 

“Mary Immaculate, Star of the Morning, chosen before the Creation began”, has been a phrase that has ‘rung’ through my heart for some time. It ‘echoes’ words of the author of the ‘Letter to the Ephesians’, used as the second Reading in the Mass for the Immaculate Conception – words that refer to all Christians: “Before the world was made, he chose us, chose us in Christ to be holy and spotless and to live through love in his presence … …” (Eph 1:4)

	Mary Queen of Heaven with the Baby Jesus in St Mary's Narthex Leyland

Come with me as I explore this concept of Mary a little – try to take things a little deeper. In doing so, we have to bear in mind that, from the logical point of view, it is beyond (our) understanding to say that, from the moment of conception, Mary was completely free from sin. How can that be – except by a miracle from God? That is the ancient teaching of the Church, however, and one that links with two other teachings: firstly, that Mary is truly the Mother of God, or ‘Theotokos’ – which means ‘God-bearer’ (Council of Ephesus 431 AD), and secondly, that she was assumed, body and soul, into heaven at her passing from this world (Decreed in 1950, but taught from about the 3rd Century AD). In themselves, each of these teachings defies human logic, but, within them, there is a certain consistency. If Mary is, truly, the Mother of God, then it is surely – at the very least – a fitting thing that she should always be free of any taint of sin, for God and sin cannot ever mix! Also, her bodily ‘assumption’ is also fitting, because being taken up to heaven – body and soul – implies that bodily death had no hold over the ever-sinless ‘Theotokos’.  Sin is the cause of our death.  In the Garden of Eden, before the sin of Adam and Eve, we were created by God to live for ever; death – the death that you and I must face – was, and is, the fruit of that ‘Original Sin’. We must face it – Mary too faced it, but in a different way! What it was like for her we do not know. Her body was taken up to heaven with her spirit because that part of creation was sinless. So there is a consistency in those three teachings.

What does all this mean for us, normal human beings, fragile and sinful as we are? We are called to be free from sin by the power of God, and this is achievable, at least from time to time, when we are truly one with God. St. Paul to the Romans wrote: “If because of one man’s trespass, death reigned through that one man, much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.” (Rom 5:15) In the present moment, we can be truly sinless through the gift of God’s grace because, when we repent and are sure our sins are forgiven, then we are His, and sin has no claim on us. We can – so long as we are friends with God – be ‘immaculate’ like Mary, and, if we keep responding to God’s gift of grace, then this can become a ‘habit’ and we then ‘remain’ in God. How wonderful, for we are free to be truly ‘loving’ people when we are free of sin. Driving the lesson home, and relating all this to our world, I suppose this is what a saint – what sainthood – means: somebody who recognises that he, or she, is dependent for all virtue on God, and who manages to remain sinless, frequently; should separation from God occur then he, or she, can repent and begin again, in union with God. For God always wants us to ‘yield’ Him our sins.  Sin is the only ‘thing – if you can call sin by that word – for which God, himself, is not responsible. Through his Son Jesus, God has taken away sin by means of the Cross and glorious Resurrection of Jesus. When we ‘give’ the Lord our sins, Jesus rejoices, because then we are acknowledging the reason why he became man, and lived among us.

I am aware that many of these ideas underlie the design of the Church of the Theotokos, at Loppiano. Certainly, they provide the architectural foundation for this very beautiful modern church pictured below:

	Photos of Theotokos Church Loppiano

1) The Inclined Plane and 2) Its ‘prow’ to where the inclined plane leads 

It’s very carefully designed features are truly fascinating; here, I want to focus on just one – the roof. This is specifically designed to show how Mary, THE perfect disciple of Jesus, can be considered like an inclined plane that reaches from heaven to us on this earth – and vice versa!

Mary was – and is – a creature like us: she was born in the ordinary way of all human beings: by the Fathers of the Church, she is called, ‘the perfection of all creation – so perfect that, unlike any other part of creation – she has no trace of sin. She comes, so to speak, from creatures like us, from the earth, from the ground reaching upwards. In a totally different way, Jesus, born of the Holy Spirit, not by man, in the womb of the Virgin Mary, is from above. Yet, He takes his body from this perfect part of ‘our world’ that is Mary: every child grows within the womb of the mother taking sustenance from the mother and so did Jesus. In this very special way, Mary is the conduit – the connection – between our world and God’s. Thus, the teachings of Chiara Lubich – the one who originated this idea of Mary, as an inclined plane, reaching from heaven to earth – are in full unity with the Fathers of the Church, and the teachings of the Church. The Church at Loppiano is built with this sloping roof for this very purpose – to demonstrate in concrete, tile and glass – that curving path that has ‘MARY’ ‘stamped’ all over it – analogous I suppose, to Dorothy’s ‘Yellow Brick Road’ in the ‘Wizard of Oz’, but with the name of ‘MARY’ etched on every brick.

Maybe now we can understand, more clearly, why Mary is so important, and why she helps us if we ask her to intercede to God for us.

‘We three’ have had a lot of fun – and hard work, getting the new blog site set up, but now, there are also ‘Twitters’!  Pope Benedict has said that the Church – Priests in particular – should be ‘up to date’ with modern methods. I wonder if Pope Benedict ‘twitters’? It would be good to have a daily thought from him; he seems to have so much wisdom to impart   

Pope Benedict XVI

Freedom, fun and hard work – I suspect they go well together – that they are very much intermingled. There is often a great deal of fun, mixed with people who are working hard together, and when somebody is having fun, they are also, essentially, free.  Time passes quickly when hard at work, when having fun, and freedom is so important in all of this.   

Manual Workers Making Steel

 

Freedom – liberty, lack of restrictions, that certain independence, a sense of choice and free will and freedom from fear – all of these – is associated with Advent. The very first antiphon, at Mass, for the first Monday of Advent reads:  

“Nations, hear the message of the Lord, and make it known to the ends of the earth: Our Saviour is coming. Have no more fear.”  

In the Benedictus, the prayer of Zecheriah, John the Baptist’s father, he says:  

“He (God) swore to Abraham our father to grant us, that free from fear and saved from the hands of our foes, we might serve him in holiness and justice all the days of our life in his presence”.  

Freedom does not come automatically and it is not to do with the self-dominated attitudes of ‘cutting all ties and just following my own desires’. In fact, that course of action leads to the deprivation of other peoples’ freedoms and on to slavery.  In any examination of complex and difficult concepts, it is helpful, I find, always to look at the ‘opposite of something’ as this often helps us to understand more clearly. In our Rite of Baptism, when talking to parents, the priest uses that ‘un-popular’ word ‘responsibility, when he reminds them that: “You have asked to have your child baptised. In doing so, you are accepting the responsibility of training him / her in the practice of the Faith”. Now this may sound like a constraint – the Church telling us what to do – once again. In fact, it is quite the opposite! At Baptism, the parents invariably answer: “We do”, without hesitation, when asked if they clearly understand the ‘responsibility’.  

To look at this another way, we can picture all those many parents who feel sad, disappointed and without a purpose in life, when they discover they cannot have children! Do such people feel they have lost an aspect of their freedom? Not necessarily!  The choices we have made appear to limit us, but actually, they are the way in which we find our freedom. We all need a context in which to live.  

The worst enemy of our human existence is fear. God takes fear away: and that is a message of Advent.  

The Nativity and the Second Coming of Jesus

The Nativity by Rogier van der Wayden (1400 to 1464) and the Second Coming of Jesus by Jean Cousin the Younger (late 16^th Century)  

In our today’s way of thinking, we do not picture Jesus coming to us just at Christmastide, or, indeed in terms of the certainty of His ‘Second Coming’; rather, the Messiah, himself, is with us now, today and everyday, throughout the whole of our lives.  

Now follows a story told by Father Ambrose at Mass, last Sunday.  With acknowledgement to him, I now repeat the ‘tale’, because of the apposite lessons it contains:  

Tintern Abbey - The Interior

A famous monastery fell upon hard times.  Once it had teemed with young monks, so that the church rang with prayer and singing, but now it was nearly deserted.  Visitors no longer came there to pray and seek spiritual guidance.  Only a handful of elderly monks shuffled disconsolately about its silent and gloomy cloisters.  

       Now in a hut, in a nearby wood, there lived a holy old rabbi.  The monks had a very high regard for him and felt sustained by his prayerful presence.  One day the abbot went to visit the rabbi and opened his heart to him.  The rabbi received him warmly.  It was as though he had been expecting him for a long time.  

       They sat down and talked for some time, each shedding tears at having discovered one another.  Then they sat on in silence.  Eventually the rabbi said: ‘You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts.  You have come to me seeking a teaching.  I will give you a teaching, but what I am going to say, I will say once, and only once.’  

       Then the old rabbi looked at the abbot and said:  ‘Tell your brothers that the Messiah lives among them’.  The abbot could scarcely believe what he had heard.  He wanted to ask many questions, but the rabbi said: ‘Go now.’  And the abbot left without even looking back.  

       The next morning he called the monks together and told them that he had received a teaching from the old rabbi, that he would say it once, and no one was to repeat it, or ask questions.  They looked at him full of expectation.  Then he said: ‘My brothers, the rabbi said that the Messiah is among us.’  On hearing this, the monks were overcome with surprise and joy, and they asked themselves: ‘Could it really be true?  Could Br. John be the Messiah?  Could Br. James be the Messiah?  Could I be the Messiah?  

       They were deeply puzzled, but no one asked any questions of the abbot.  As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a deep and genuine reverence.  There was a gentle, warm-hearted, human quality about them now which was hard to describe but easy to notice.  They lived as men who had finally found something.  And yet they prayed and read the Scriptures as if they were still looking for something.  

       People soon noticed that something unusual had happened in the monastery, and visitors began to stream to it.  From far and wide they came to be nourished by the prayer and charity of the monks, and young men were soon asking to join the community.  And once more the church rang with prayerful music, and the cloisters filled with life, so that the monastery became a centre of faith, hope, and love for all who lived in that part of the world.  

Yes, the Messiah has come.  He lives within us and empowers us to live as he lived.  Each one of us can make a real difference.  All our words and actions can spread love – or argument and jealousy.   We must turn away from anything of which we would be ashamed, remembering that God sees and knows us, through and through.  Every day, we draw nearer to the time of our death and the end of the world.  We must be ready for that great moment, for God’s judgement is completely just – and final. He loves us and longs for us to be with him for all eternity, where we will then exist in perfect freedom.  

You cannot be entirely free to do what you want, as if you hurt others you will be enslaved by fear they will hurt you

To be free is one of the greatest gifts a person can enjoy

After Mass on Remembrance Sunday, this year, I ‘bumped into’ a parishioner and simply asked him how he was keeping. “Not so good really,” he replied, and so I asked him why. “I am really upset at the soldiers who have had their legs and arms blown off, trying to bring peace in Afghanistan – I can’t get them out of my head!” Just one week later, he apologised for being so emotional, and I hastened to assure him there was no reason to be apologetic.

A very dear friend of mine once came out with the profound statement that men have become very good at inventing ways to maim and to kill other men – not so good at helping those in need – the hungry, the homeless, etc.

Whilst my opening gambit focuses on war, its results are not that far away from the agonies then being suffered by another parishioner, who was in tears after the Heysel disaster, in 1985, when 39 Italian and Belgian football fans died at the European Cup Final. I know the situation is different, but the two images together, remind me once again, of how international events can affect people in their personal, everyday lives.

Psalm 39 (No. 38 in the Catholic version) has a most intriguing phrase in it, which in the translation that we use for the Divine Office goes like this; it is, in fact, the last sentence of the psalm:

“Look away that I may breathe again before I depart to no more.”

Sometimes a phrase from the psalms strikes you, as this one did for me. It reads like a phrase of utter despair, and could be thought to be saying: “God, you can do no good to me – or to us – just give me / us a break, so that we can have some kind of a life before everything must end, for all eternity.” And yet, deep in my own heart, that is not the way I think of God. I think of God being where my ‘home’ is, where I can feel ‘at home’, where I can breathe, relax and just be myself. How, then, does this phrase make sense? Who does it apply to? Perhaps, it throws light on the above experiences.

It could fit the ‘corporate life’ of people in our world, or of a nation – so it would seem. Our world has many nations that seem to live in perpetual suffering, where a break from what is happening would be a ‘godsend’, and, to be sure, what happens in them affects many of us. One such nation would be the Holy Land, another Iraq, and yet another, a country like Afghanistan. All these countries appear to suffer from problems caused by people who want to control, dominate – or eliminate – certain groups, and in saying this I make allowances for the fact that the actual situation, in these countries, may not be quite the same as that portrayed by the media. But, for God to look away so that the people may breathe again – gain some respite before nothingness – appears to be taking the view that God is, in some way, responsible? To ask that there be some relief from murder, domination, killing, murderous suicide bombers, systems of political control that causes lack of freedom, lack of movement, lack of jobs, money and safety … … I could go on and on … … is assuming, in one sense, that God is permitting such things, even if He does not directly will them; this argument allows men and women to misuse their power and influence, until at some stage, God calls a halt. In the meantime, can it not be good to have a break from it all – so that the oppressed may breathe again, before death comes!

There are places where people live in utter deprivation, caused by poverty and natural disasters, seemingly without any signs of easy cure. Haiti would be a country in point. One wonders how the poor people there can survive with all they have gone through; so many families bereaved after the earthquakes; so little sanitation; so much poverty and lack of basic necessities; so little normal living. And now, raging cholera that can kill in four hours! Again, probably, the actual situation is different to the images we form from absorbing the media stories – but, who knows? In this example, would it not, indeed, be wonderful if this situation that God ‘permits’ could change, for a period, ‘so that people may breathe again’ with enough food, water, good sanitation, secure health provision and the necessities of life?

For some people, a country such as England fits into the ‘model’ I have described. Here in the UK, there is relative wealth and a certain freedom for some sections of its community, but there is also malaise, a lack of moral uprightness, a sense that the young have challenges ahead – to face and overcome – if they are to enjoy a future of meaning, safety and reasonable security. I hear people say: “Thank God I have lived my life, and do not have to face it now as a young person!”, and: “I feel sorry for the young and worry about their future!” What standards will they live up to, as they see values ridiculed, religion and its teachings rejected – or laughed at – and the future uncertain. Worries, worries, worries are what people face! “God give us a break so that I may breathe before I depart to be no more.”

There is another psalm that we sing at the Divine Office which also gives the same message. In the hymn of Psalm 139 the words are:

O God, you search me and you know me.

All my thoughts lie open to your gaze.

 When I walk or lie down you are before me:

 Ever the maker and keeper of my days…..

Although your Spirit is upon me,

Still I search for shelter from your light.

 There is nowhere on earth I can escape you:

 Even the darkness is radiant in your sight. 

In all of this, God is just ‘too much’ – too much ‘on top’ of me: he does not even allow me to breathe! God is like this, for me, when I feel I cannot look him in the eye – so to speak – when I feel that He and I do not really see eye to eye. And now, we are beginning to get to the truth of the matter.  These feeling arise only because I have estranged myself from Him, and this is the reason the psalmist seems to be seeking a ‘break’ from God’s presence. God is just too ‘good’, too ‘pure’, too perfect’, in the face of my own deficiencies, my deceits and double dealing. Until I can ‘come clean’ with God, who knows me through and through, I will not experience the amazing gentleness of God – that amazing gentleness that God has for me, personally.   “God visits us like the dawn from on high,” or, as the Italian version of the Benedictus puts it: “as the sun rises in the morning” (Luke 1; 78).

The first psalm referred to in this blog, Psalm 39 refers to this personal sinning, and at the sin of jealousy and judging of others, but in the light of how ‘frighteningly’ short life is.

“I said: I will be watchful of my ways for fear I should sin with my tongue …..O Lord, you have shown me my end, how short is the length of my days. Now I know how fleeting is my life…. In you rests all my hope. Set me free from all my sins, do not make the taunt of the fool…take away your scourge from me. I am crushed by the blows of your hand. You punish man’s sins and correct him….” 

It is often the case that when disasters befall nations – even natural disasters – people attribute the cause of such tragedies to the personal sins of the people; on a personal level, when tragedy strikes, the individual can think this is because God is punishing me for what I have done wrong. I disassociate myself from this way of thinking; it is ‘riddled’ with irrational guilt – not the virtuous guilt by which we know the ‘fear of the Lord’. All too often, irrational guilt is linked with deep despondency, or discouragement – despair, to choose a better word – and that is the breeding ground for evil to enter into one’s life. It says: “What the heck – I may as well give up trying as there is no way I can live according to beauty, goodness or love”.  

Often, unwittingly, we create conditions in our personal life that leave us very unhappy, unable to find peace for the situation we find ourselves in; in this there may be a whole variety of reasons. Furthermore, this personal state of affairs could be a contributory factor to the disasters that face communities. However, we should never forget the fact that people, consciously, make personal choices – evil and wrong decisions – that are designed to stir up wickedness leading to corporate disasters, in the political field, or even in nature – take the effects on the environment, we human beings have wrought, for instance.  

Returning to the line of the psalm: “Look away that I may breathe again before I depart to no more,” I am driven to the conclusion, using that God-given instinct, that God comes to us without ‘pushing’ Himself onto us – not through force, but seeking our acceptance of Him. He comes like the gentle breeze, not in the ‘earthquake’, ‘wind’ or ‘fire’. He is immensely patient, waiting and waiting, for us to find Him, and then to feel secure in his Love. We do not really need to run away from him, even though – through guilt – we may feel like it sometimes. As we now come to Advent, to the time when we await his coming, let us grasp the realities of our situation – my situation, and that of the whole of humanity – and, calmly, let him come to fill our lives with his peace. 

As we do so, the anecdotes annotated at the start of this blog, are also relevant. Our own personal lives are deeply affected by what goes on around us – and even much farther afield. There, too, God can help us to live in Him, in joy and in peace, because we can pray for those less fortunate than ourselves; we can play our part in acting for the good of all, in practical ways – like supporting everything that points to unity, rather than division – and we can even offer our small contributions, in money, or in kind, to help those less fortunate than ourselves.

In November, each year, we remember all those who have passed on before us. November is known as the ‘Month of the Dead’, but actually, it should, more appropriately, be called the ‘Month of the Living’, because we know that, those who have gone before us, are not in an empty void for ever. I would rather call it the ‘Month of All Saints’! Those who have died are truly alive, if in union with God, for the life we have been living on this earth, is a preparation for the life to come, the life of pure, and total, happiness in heaven, for which people yearn. This assertion is based on our faith, but it is faith that, at one and the same time, is also knowledge – not in the sense of things we see – like material things, but in the sense ephemeral qualities such as love and wisdom; we all know what they are, though we cannot see them with our eyes.  There are many other qualities like admiration, compassion, awe in the presence of things much greater than ourselves and grief; all of these are very real to us, and truly, we know them to be real – yet invisible.

Photo of the Michelangelo ‘Pieta’ 

To move on, the significance of that heart-breaking moment when Mary was with her dead Son, at the foot of the Cross, came back to me last Sunday, when, in the ‘Readings’, we thought about the ‘End of the World’. We have all, from time to time, reflected on that Crucifixion scene and ‘observed’ the fullness of life ‘snuffed out’ – out of love for us – together with the utter beauty and simplicity of grief, an experience that all human beings face. Yet, look at the face of Mary!

Photo of a Close-up of Mary’s Face 

She is lost in her own thoughts and grief – how could she be otherwise? But, in that very same face, the genius of Michelangelo has ‘captured’ her with a wonderful sense of divine serenity. Furthermore, she looks younger than her son, Jesus, and, even if you take into account the terrible sufferings throughout his Passion and death, nonetheless Mary would have been roughly fifty years of age, given that Jesus died at three and thirty. Michelangelo had a vast spiritual and theological knowledge; quite deliberately, he would have sculpted his statue to make her look young. As Jesus is the one in whom all human beings die to sin – and thence to ‘light’ – so this death of Jesus and his placement in the arms of his beloved mother, connects with our death and our human grieving; it links with us, and our experiences and feelings. I think it shows that in every circumstance of life, if we remain in God, then ‘Hope Springs Eternal’. That is what ‘youth’ is about and our world, compared to the God who exists before all time, is a young, vulnerable offshoot; yet despite all the vulnerability and limitations – including sinfulness and evil – we have a sure sign of hope that nothing can destroy, as long as we ‘abide in Him, and He abides in us’.

Now, in contrast, I invite you to look at how Michelangelo portrays despair; the contrast between Mary’s serenity – in grief – and despair is very marked; the two are ‘poles apart’ And, despair inevitably is the fate of one who refuses to abide in God, thinking he, or she, can go it alone.

Picture of the Damned going to Hell in the Sistine Chapel, by Michelangelo 

Tradition has it that, of all the disciples of Jesus, Mary, his Mother, did not need Jesus appearing to her, immediately after the Resurrection, as he did to Mary Magdalene, for instance.  This was because she ‘knew’ in her heart that, despite the dreadful tragedy she had experienced at the foot of the cross, all would be well. She lived, and experienced, what we now call the theological virtues of perfect faith, hope and love.  These ‘perfect virtues’ are gifts from God to a person, impossible to achieve without the help of God himself. Ourselves alone, we cannot – without divine help – achieve these qualities.

In conversation with a parishioner, whose husband died, very suddenly, last week, she told me in her sorrow that, when the paramedics arrived and tried their best to resuscitate him, his arm just ‘flopped’;  in her view, the life in her husband had already ‘gone’. This last action of the body, as death takes hold, is so well portrayed in the sculpture, below. Again, Michelangelo has caught, in the marble he worked so marvellously, a moment that is ‘eternal’. Each of us – in our own way – can read into this beautiful work of art, many different reactions’.

Picture of Jesus Truly Dead in the Lap of Mary 

Still in November, the Parish has ‘enjoyed’ two liturgies for those of our community who have died; many of them, I am sure, have achieved high levels of holiness. The first was the 11.00am Mass on the first Sunday of November, and the second – not a Mass but a ‘Service of Light, Song, Remembrance and Thanksgiving’ – embraced words of hope from the scriptures, to envelop us; projected photographs of those who have died in the past two years, brought back for a time, our beloved memories of them. At both liturgies, there was a sense of enormous grief, at the loss of those we have loved. This sense of grief happens for believers and unbelievers alike. On this note, I sometimes wonder whether the Christian actually feels more grief, than the person with no faith.  I question this, precisely, because the Christian has allowed the human ‘essence’, fully to develop and grow, largely because there is small reason to be afraid of any hurt we cannot bear. Without that knowledge, the hurt could be too much for some, and, in that regard, they may then protect themselves by not allowing themselves to become too close to another, as their loss would be so painful.

I make no apology for my essay on the subject of November and its timeless association with ‘Those Who Have Died’, because, as I said earlier, on the ‘other side of the coin’ there is hope, there is light, there is sainthood. This means that we can always reflect on our ‘everlasting’ and ‘youthful’ hope in the ‘Light of the World’ – Jesus – portrayed by the Paschal Candle, in any Church. Here, below, is shown the Easter candle from St. Mary’s in Leyland, together with the candles lighted at the service, this week, when people came to be in communion, with those that have gone before us, and whom we all remembered, before God, knowing they too will be in communion with us: each little candle shines a light for each and every one of them – lighting our way to them – and their way to us.

Picture of the Paschal Candle and Smaller Candles on the Altar 

I conclude with the very famous prayer of the now Blessed, Cardinal Newman; this beautiful prayer is printed on the memorial card, of my mother, now already resting in Christ, for 14 years. It was he who helped her to take the step to enter into full communion with our Church.  Blessed John Henry Newman, pray for us. 

Prayer of Cardinal Newman

Loppiano, not far from Florence, in Italy’s Province of Tuscany, is a very special place; it is a ‘little town’ in which all the inhabitants are trying to live out the Gospel, with especial regard for Jesus’ ‘new commandment’. This unique ‘way of life’ delivers wonderful blessings and a very special atmosphere – a tone which is heaven-like – but one in which feet ‘remain on the ground’. Loppiano is a ‘real’ town, where the inhabitants go to work to earn their daily bread, where there are industries based on a ‘new’ way of running a business under the ‘umbrella’ of the generic title, ‘An Economy of Communion’; it has a Church for all to worship and even a small university for graduates. 

                                           Front and Side View of the Church at Loppiano

But, there is much, much, more to experience. It is organised and run by the Focolare Movement – founded by Chiara Lubich, and her first companions – a ‘new’ experiment in living that has now been in existence for sixty-seven years.

Here in Loppiano, I have been staying on holiday. My vacation here has been an exceptional one, rather more ‘monastic’, externally, than usual, and consisting largely of doing very simple things – but doing them well and with great enjoyment. Joy is a very much a characteristic of Loppiano. God is very close.

(1)  Art work showing many different Religious Orders under the mantle of Mary in the House for the Religious, Loppiano.  (2)  Two Marist Brothers, Missionary of Mary Immaculate, Missionary of Mary Star of the morning, Brother of St Gabriel, Salesian, Franciscan & an Ampleforth monk at the Loppiano school for Religious  

The 900, or so, inhabitants live in their own communities and consist mainly of lay people from the five continents of the world. Some are here on a ‘permanent’ basis, as this provides for continuity to the town. Others are here for just a short time, and these, largely, come to study at the Loppiano School.  You might ask what it is they have come to learn. The answer lies in the one word ‘UNITY’ – that unity which is at the ‘heart’ of the Gospel. Also, you may ask: “Who are the teachers?” In the Gospel, Jesus said you should call no one your teacher except the Christ!  Loppiano does not contradict the Gospel, for here, it is Jesus who is the teacher – helped by those ‘permanent’ members of the community and who have that longer experience of this life of unity, and who are at the service of all who come for a shorter stay. But then, all the others ‘muck in’ and help as well!

Some of the new students at Loppiano Nov 2010 – and – Citizens getting ready for Mass Nov 2010 

It may sound arrogant to say that Jesus is the teacher; however that is the aim, the desire and the reality of all who live here – to live out the ‘New Commandment’, and so have that ‘real’ living experience of what Jesus said, (according to St. Matthew’s Gospel, 18; 20): “Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am there among them”. Rather than arrogant, it is ‘awe-inspiring’ to realise that, here in this small Tuscany town, it is the Lord, himself, who is guiding everything.

My holiday abode is in the house dedicated to men in religious life. Those religious who are here, permanently, and those who come for a few months, go to work each day so as to maintain themselves. As I write, there are eight of us in house, but I am here for just two weeks. Nevertheless, I have been joining in with them, as a friend on holiday, sharing their rhythm of life, meals, the cleaning of the house, prayers, and the common meditations, as far as possible. As the ‘law’ under which we live is the Gospel, we do our best to live it with each other, and in practice, it is a most enjoyable experience. All of us are aware that ‘heart’ of the Gospel is ‘Love’! The Latin text “Ubi amor et caritas Deus ibi est” (where there is love and charity, there is God) is written above the door of St. Mary’s Presbytery in Leyland; and God who is love is also joy. This ought to be the characteristic of every Christian community – including a parish – for Jesus said, at the time he emphasised that his mission was unity: “I speak these things in the world so that they can have my joy made complete in themselves” (John 17: 13).

It would be helpful, perhaps, to explain those others who find themselves here in town and at the school of Loppiano. I can assure you, here you would find just about every kind of person. Families, who live in their own houses, mingle with other families during their learning time here. There are young people, late teens in age, or above, who live and share together. There are other young men and women, in their 20’s or 30’s, who feel the vocation to dedicate themselves to God, for life, with vows of celibacy, as promoters of unity, and they remain in the world of work. Parishioners of St. Mary’s might have met these ‘Focolarini’ who live, nearby, in Liverpool. There are young priests and seminarians, about twenty in total, nuns, and men and women – usually married, but not necessarily so – who wish to live in the world, and work for unity, as people of the world.

(1) Young married man at work: paint shop (2) Some of the young workers in the carpentry shop (3) Finished products, cots and furniture 

As far as is possible, all the different groups go to work each day.  However, mums may have to look after the children while dad goes to work, or vice-versa; there are other such-like provisos. Thus everyone mixes, naturally, with everyone during the day, but each has their own distinct living space and home life. Then, at certain times, the whole town comes together for the celebration of Mass, or for the various meetings of the different groups. It goes without saying that, in various ways, all are involved with the Focolare Movement, and last Sunday week, there was an up-dating on how the Focolare Movement is responding to what God wants of it, in the special times in which we now live. Again, the whole town was present.

 (1) Three Muslim imams living in Italy.  (2)  Young Muslim girl presenter, and, (3) Muslim and Christian girls from Verona sharing at experience of dialogue 

Last Sunday, there was something special – and unusual – for those able to attend, consisting of a meeting for dialogue between Muslims and Christians, in Italy, the intention being to promote dialogue, where there is often deep division. The event was open to the whole of Italy, and was the first meeting of its kind – organised by Muslims who know, and love, this life of unity, together with their Christian ‘Focolare’ counterparts. I discovered that this meeting had been in the planning for 20 years! I must say, it was wonderful to be here, by chance so to speak, and see all these Christians and Muslims together as ‘one family’. They came from the north and south of Italy, by the coach-load, about 400 in total. Ironic it may be that, since that meeting, terrorists have perpetrated the invasion of a Syrian Catholic Church, in Iraq, resulting in the deaths of some 58 people, including three priests. This is not the norm, for the way Christians and Muslims relate to each other – whatever the media may say; in most places, Christians and Muslims have lived, side by side and in peace with each other, for centuries.

Loppiano is an expression of the life of Church; it formulates the very best experience I have had, of what the post Vatican 2 Church is all about. It is forward-looking; God is very much at the centre of things; in totality, it seems a fulfilment of the famous ‘wise scribe’ in the Gospel, who could value both the old things, and the new.

My readers might ask what, then, is the common language, given that the population is so ‘international’. As Loppiano is situated in Italy, the language of ordinary conversation is Italian, a language that I happened to learn before joining Ampleforth, at the age of 18. For those who do not speak Italian, there are ‘simultaneous translations’, though it is much better to be able to speak Italian. Those who come here ‘to school’ often spend the first months learning Italian, and find this very much to their advantage.

My time spent here has made me reflect, once more, on the importance of having that ‘something more’, to sustain the Christian life we try to live as priests, and people, in our Parish of St. Mary’s. Certainly, my ‘Loppiano experience’ – short I know – nevertheless, has ‘rooted’ me more on my vocation, and for that, I thank God. We all need help – priests, monks and people – and, although this experience may not be for everyone, it is, I feel, one that it is well worth the knowledge

I heard an interesting story about a Catholic man who left the Catholic Church to join a Protestant sect. As a boy, he belonged to a strongly practising Catholic family; he was an altar server into his late teens; he went regularly to Mass each Sunday. A model Catholic, you might say!  However, as he grew older and leaving home behind, perhaps at university, he began to attend an Evangelical Fellowship, and slowly he was drawn in to its life. In the end, he joined the group – much to the dismay of his devout Catholic parents. Not surprisingly, his parents asked him why he had chosen this other path, and he replied: “You never told me that I could have a personal relationship with Jesus; rather I was taken to a ‘ritual’, Sunday after Sunday, that meant nothing to me. Now I have found him”.

To be a Catholic – to remain faithful to the Church – right through to the end of our lives, following Jesus, we need to have something more in that life than the ‘every day’ prayers we say, the weekly Mass on Sunday, and our attempts to live as a good Christian should, without giving way to too many of our failings. This assumes that following Jesus includes being faithful to the Church. Today we have a modern ‘myth’ that a Catholic can be a faithful follower of Jesus, and yet not be a part of the Church. A person might call themselves a Catholic – may even try to live a decent life according to their conscience, but, without belonging to the Church – and being part of it –  they could hardly be put forward as a ‘model’ to follow. If we have the right disposition, Jesus comes to us, personally, and today, through the sacraments, just as he was the personal friend of his disciples, two thousand years ago. Of course, sometimes we may not feel that we are in touch today with Jesus, as a person of, and in, the Church, just like the young man with whom I began. We may not feel the warmth of God’s presence; we may not find support, good teaching and his presence in the liturgy. These are, I know, some of the reasons why people decide not to belong to Jesus and the Church.

Many Catholics, young and old, struggle to belong to the Church. The young face a different problem than the more mature because Britain’s young, oftentimes, have had little real and meaningful contact with the Church. They may attend at Sunday Mass – but so many do not; for many, their attendance at school, with Mass, prayers and its Catholic life, may be the only contact they have with the Church, and this may not be enough to relate to their own lives, unless they do build a relationship with Jesus and do become involved in the Community of Faith. It is good to know that both students, and staff, do find Jesus and the Church, in our Leyland schools, and some are touched deeply enough to become part of the living Church community. It is also a great joy to know that parishioners in St. Mary’s are prepared to support our ‘Youth Foundation’ and our Parish Youth Worker; the existence of the group provides for a continuity of contacts with the Community of Faith; it allows those contacts to grow and to deepen. In passing, a great ‘thank-you’ goes to those volunteers who support our Youth Worker and enable the parochial youth work to flourish.

At this point, I turn to the question of the more mature Catholic and keep in mind a conversation I had, recently, with a very experienced priest; he described a particular phenomenon – the one that concerns me, here. He explained that a particular parishioner, a parent, and probably grand-parent, a life-long Catholic had suddenly ceased to come to Church, after years of practising the Faith. This, too, bears out my own observation of some Catholic adults, and it is hard to generalise why this should be so. There are probably as many reasons as there are people, but somewhere, they must include some sense of disillusionment – including that loss of the special relationship with Jesus – that is, always providing Jesus was there in the first place. Religion may have been just a matter of ritual, and/or external conformity.  Then, of course, we must remember the multitude of people, of all ages, who have hardly ever been regularly, and in reality, part of the worshipping Community of Faith. They might well call themselves Catholics, but they do not come, regularly, to Church.  I am sure that there is, also, a host of reasons why.

My own life, as a monk, was transformed when I, too, entered into a personal relationship with Jesus: this happened when other lay people – people who knew God’s love – helped me to understand that God loves me immensely. Each and every person – including me – in his heart, is a unique masterpiece, and everyone can freely respond to His Love.  I did, by choosing again, for myself, the path I was already treading – the life of a monk.

I am writing this ‘blog’ whilst on holiday in Italy. On Saturday, last, I attended a day’s meeting entitled, ‘Charisms in Communion’ held in the City of Assisi.  Attending were other men and women in Religious Life, also laity, many of them quite young, a Cardinal, four Bishops, the two leaders of the Friars Minor (OFM’s) and the Conventual Friars (OFM Conv) and leading Cappuchins. People estimated we were about two thousand in number, altogether. The meeting was held in joyful spirit, but by far the most enjoyable moments arose out of that sense of coming together, meeting with friends, both old and new. We stopped to pray, for a moment, at the Porziuncula, the little “Church” within the basilica of St. Mary of the Angels. St. Francis considered this the ‘cradle’ of the Franciscan movement; it was here, also, that he died.

 Religious and Others Gathering for the Meeting and Prayers Before Mass 

To begin the day, Mass that morning had been celebrated in the Church of St. Clare, where there is an enclosed Poor Clare community, and within their convent they have the incorrupt body of St. Clare. Afterwards there was a press conference, to explain and publicise this venture, because it is still quite new to witness Religious and the new charisms in the Church together; both events were moving and joyful because they were witnessing to the freshness of the post Vatican 2 Church and were, very much, ‘forward looking’; I have no doubt the Holy Spirit was present throughout – almost tangibly so! On the day, at least 500 people were treated to lunch by the Franciscan organisers, with the Franciscan friars ‘waiting on’. Jesus was there, for sure, because of the joy we felt – the service given to us, by so many people, and the help we gave to others, by our presence, and response to their love. In the afternoon, we had talks in the upper Basilica, built over the tomb of St. Francis.

             Cardinal Vlk & Abbot Raymond              The Refectory Where Lunch Was Held 

All this manifests the ‘yes’ response St. Francis gave to God, in Jesus, and the ‘yes’ of the millions of people, today, who are also doing their best to follow Jesus. The whole world was changed by the ‘conversion’ of St. Francis, when he entered into a living relationship with Jesus. That relationship was marked by suffering; of that there can be no doubt for witness the marks of the stigmata he was given later on in his life, at La Verna. Even today, we, in Leyland, are influenced by that response of St. Francis, because we have Sister Veronica working among us, a Franciscan Missionary of St Joseph, much loved because of her evident love of the people, and her devotion to God and his Love.

Stained Glass Window of St. Francis and St. Clare ……. St. Francis Holding Up a ‘Tottering’ Church

Some of the Older People and Three Young Friars Present at the Afternoon Session

To conclude, I think it right to point out that there are messages here for all of us.  Our experiences – all of them taking place each and every day – here in Assisi and, most certainly, back home in Leyland, and in a time continuum, are part of a learning process. We all have something to learn and to ponder as we live and reflect on our lives. Our response to God and his love in Jesus WILL make a difference to the people we are, to those around us and to the world in which we live.