The Friends of Holy Trinity Monastery are holding a plant sale in the monastery grounds on Sunday. Ideally, we should be tidying the garden so that it looks a bit more kempt than it does. Unfortunately, work and weather conspire against that, so visitors will be treated to rolling English savannah and Amazonian levels of undergrowth if everything continues its present growth-rate. Surrounded by so much lushness, drought in Australia and elsewhere seems almost unreal. The same is also true of suffering. Burma and China are still in the headlines, but Zimbabwe, Darfur and the Congo have slipped down the page, while "smaller" human tragedies, like that of the Fritzl family, or individuals struggling with illness or bereavement are lost to view. As contemplatives, we don't have the option of forgetting. The world and all its joys and sorrows must be contantly brought before God in prayer. We need to connect.

Today marks the beginning of our sixth year at Hendred. Lots of plans, lots of hopes, lots of dreams, all of them subject to the will of God — easy to say, but not always easy to accept if God has his own ideas about how things should go! For some people, the fact that God does not always respond to prayer in the way we expect or want leads to some very illogical conclusions: God does not love me; God does not exist; and so on. Can we turn things round and say, isn't it amazing that God does sometimes (often even) respond to prayer exactly as we hope or in ways that exceed all our expectations? Perhaps our ideas about God are a little askew. We want freedom for ourselves but are reluctant to allow it to God.

St Matthias could be called the forgotten apostle. During his life on earth, Jesus did not single him out for any special ministry or role: he was just another disciple, so to say, who listened and learned and was therefore able to witness to the same things as the apostles themselves. The early Church, however, understood the importance of the Twelve and the necessity of choosing someone to take the place of Judas. The election of Matthias could be described as the first truly ecclesiastical act, and a sign that the Church is, sometimes at least, perfectly attuned to the Holy Spirit. Matthias proved worthy of the trust placed in him — a man of integrity whose whole life was lived in obscurity but who, by his fidelity and perseverance, made up for the betrayal of one whom Jesus had chosen as his friend. A good patron for those who are not "first choices" or "obvious candidates" but who in the eyes of God are the right person for the job.

Back to Ordinary time today, but the weather clearly doesn't think there is anything "ordinary" about it at all. The Dawn Chorus began at 4.17 this morning, when the sky was already tinged with blue. Good that a trcikle of aid is beginning to get into Burma, but it needs to become a flood. Let us continue to pray.

Early morning on the Ridgeway is always a delight, with the larks and lapwings, and hares loping across the fields. This morning we said part of Lauds there because the sudden heat has become a bit oppressive, and in any case, on Saturdays we generally go to Abingdon or one of the other local churches for Mass, so Vigils, Lauds and walking the dog all have to be completed before 7.30 a.m. No doubt the Ridgeway has been used for many and various religious purposes throughout the centuries, but it is good to know that we too can make it a place of prayer. The gift of prayer has been poured into our hearts along with the gift of God's love – something we celebrate in a special way at Pentecost.
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As a matter of principle, we usually don't comment on anything "political" but the tragedy in Burma has been tugging at all our hearts. What kind of leadership allows its people to suffer because pride and paranoia make accepting help from others virtually "impossible"? We are all capable of that kind of obstinacy. Fortunately for most of us, it only affects our stupid selves. Let us pray for the people of Burma.

Two committee meetings last night, one at six and one at 7.30 p.m., no wonder we haven't got the Colophon feed formulated correctly (excuses, excuses). We all tend to rail at the time and energy consumed by committees, but how else would any group get things done? Benedict provided for two types of consultation in the monastery, the general meeting or chapter of all and the smaller meeting or council of seniors. Both contribute to the good of the community, but it is usually the smaller body which channels the energy and creativity of the larger group into achieving something worthwhile. We need smaller groups to get to grips with the nuts and bolts of how to do things. Good to remember, then, that St Paul saw "admin" as a work of the Holy Spirit.

We said Vigils earlier than usual this morning, so at six o'clock Duncan and I were walking towards the Ridgeway, past the lambing fields. Lambing begins quite late here, so the first lambs are only just putting in an appearance. They frisk and frolic in the sunshine and give every sign of enjoying life, with ne'er a thought of what may lie in store. At Mass we invoke Jesus Christ as the Lamb of God. When we do so, we are thinking primarily of the Passover lamb, the lamb of sacrifice, and Jesus as the sacrifice which takes away the sin of the world – serious theology packed into a few words. Serious theology, however, doesn't need to be glum, indeed it oughtn't to be. Perhaps we should take a second look at the lambs in the fields. The Lamb of God takes a huge joy in the whole of creation. That is why he was ready to sacrifice himself for us, and as Hebrews reminds us, ready to do so joyfully..

Can't quite get my head around the idea of celebrating the Ascension on Sunday, when the Orthodox and many other Christians continue to celebrate it on the Thursday, which makes sense both scripturally and liturgically. The nine days between the Ascension and Pentecost are days of special prayer, when we ask anew for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. They are, indeed, the model for all "novenas". This year we need to pray most earnestly for the gift of wisdom, not only for ourselves but for every other person on the planet. But we need to pray with confidence. Christ's vistory is assured, however much muddle and mayhem we create.
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We have finally managed the migration to carbon-neutral servers, which means we shall be creating less atmospheric pollution, although doubtless our postings will continue to be scattered abroad over the fair face of blogland. The process of moving hosts is usually quite simple, but the on-off Broadband connections from which we have been suffering have been tiresome in the extreme. Once we are sure that all is working as it should be, we'll put up our new content. The fact that today is the feast of St Athanasius seems somehow appropriate. He was an interesting man, a bit awkward of course, but a person of great integrity, with rare spiritual insight. Perhaps he should be a patron saint of monastic bloggers?

Saw the first pair of swallows over the church yesterday evening. Like Gilbert White, we had all been getting a little anxious about when they would return. This morning saw meadow pipits in one of the sheep enclosures, and a pair of red kites over Hendred House. It is easy to understand why medieval illuminators so delighted in birds, seeing them as images of the soul. I wonder what our age would choose. A silicon chip, perhaps?

We seem to have stable Broadband at last, but there has been much tearing of wimples and mute cries of rage and distress as the connection went down yet again. The drains are cleared, so all is well in this corner of the world. Except, of course, that with the resumption of normal Broadband service came an avalanche of urgent emails which had lain in cyber-limbo for several days. If you are one of those who have written and been disappointed not to have had a reply, please bear with us. We hope to have the web site back to "normal" by the week-end. We are going to move all our web sites to new servers in the next few weeks, so there may be some hiccups with the transfer; but we are hoping to be able to offer a much improved service, with one or two new treats for regular visitors to this site in particular. Our next podcast will be posted at the week-end as the one recorded for Sunday past seems a little dated now.

Patience is supposed to be a characteristic virtue of Benedictines. Close readers of this blog will have noticed some rather terse entries recently and may have guessed that patience was being tried somewhere or other in the monastery. The fact is, our Broadband connection has been more down than up for several days. Indeed, on some days we have had no access to the internet at all. Several calls to helplines in India have resulted in long conversations with diligent and charming support staff, but achieved little. Last night it was suggested that we open one of BT's boxes and do a little rewiring ourselves . . . but prudence is another Benedictine virtue. We have had Broadband access off and on this morning, which is just as well, because DRAINS are again featuring on the list of trying things. Strange how desire for the Kingdom becomes so muddled up with desire for reliable communications and efficient drains.

Even with the transitory blossom of snow covering the Downs, the skylarks are singing. The deer are feding in broad daylight, in the middle of a field, quite unfussed by traffic on the Newbury Road. Is it only human beings who demand "optimum conditions" before settling down to anything? Perhaps that is why there is such a huge stack of paper in my in-tray and next to nothing in the out-tray. Procrastination is the child of perfectionism after all.

To read the Emmaus gospel so soon after St Benedict's teaching on hospitality is powerful. To recognize Jesus in the breaking of bread . . . how often do we really do that when we eat with others? How often do we acknowledge the Emmaus moments in our lives? So often we eat with others yet eat alone; so often we miss Christ in our midst.
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Today we begin reading St Benedict's quite lenghty treatment of hospitality — how guests should be welcomed, how the monastic community should act towards them, the arrangements that should be made for the guest's reception and the safeguards for community life. At one level, it all sounds idyllic: the community treats the guest as though Christ; and the guest responds to the community with perfect understanding and gratitude, quietly listening to the scriptures and submitting courteously to the rituals of welcome accorded him. The reality may be different, and Benedict is well aware that the community may be devoured by those who seek its help. A common problem is the difficulty many experience with boundaries: they want to be open and welcoming, but some guests seem to regard themselves as privileged members of the community, subject to none of its disciplines but able, and ready, to enjoy all its benefits; while others are not so convinced of the Christ-like qualities of those who come to their doors and would rather their guests went elsewhere — sometimes making it abundantly clear to the guests in question. Chapter 53 of the Rule repays careful study and reflection. We all owe the duty of hospitality to our neighbour, but we need to balance what we owe to our guest with what we owe to those closest to us and indeed to ourselves.Treating others "tamquam Christus" is the key.

The (transferred) feast of St Benedict, so much rejoicing in choir and refectory. We hope all our Associates will be sharing in the rejoicings today — it is sad that none will be here with us. Of course, the general jubilation does beg some important questions. What precisely are we celebrating? St Benedict or, perish the thought, ourselves? There are times when we Benedictines can give the impression of basking in reflected holiness, as though the mere fact of being a disciple of St Benedict conferred a special dignity, not to say glory, upon us. That is absurd. Cucullus non facit monachum. It is not donning the cowl that makes the monk (or nun) but living as one. I wonder what St Benedict thinks of his disciples today. Do we truly radiate the humanity, the humility and the holiness he sought to instill? If not, perhaps we need to examine our consciences a little more closely. We cannot sing our way into the Kingdom of heaven.

Is it an illusion, or are there more siskins about than there were last year? They have such pretty plumage. Duncan (the dog) does not seem to have had any adverse effect on wildlife in the garden, except that (oh joy, oh bliss, oh rapture!) he has seen off the deer. Long may he continue to patrol the perimeters and keep them at bay. We are very behind with work in the garden, although thanks to the heroic labours of Damien and Terry, the winter digging is complete and the greenhouse almost ready for occupation. In fact, we seem to be behind with everything, or is it just that having an early Easter makes us feel we are?

Christ is risen, alleluia! Like so many others, we are a little weary now. We have kept Vigil through the night hours and proclaimed the Resurrection. We have rejoiced through the day hours, and as evening falls we recall that this Easter Day will go on for a whole Octave, giving us time to absorb its wonders. The snow flurries have temporarily whitened the hedgerows, reminding us of the gravecloths burst asunder and the white garments of our own baptism into Christ's death. As the Easter Sequence questions Mary about what she saw on her way to the empty tomb, so we too must question ourselves: what does this great Mystery mean to me?

A day of blank, bleak emptiness, as after any death. The drama of the Passion is over, now there is only the waiting. So much of life falls into "Holy Saturday" moments, when nothing very much seems to be happening and hope itself seems dull and unreal. But just as when winter turns to spring, hidden shoots begin to sprout then burst out in a sudden blaze of beauty, so we know that today is not a day of despair. In silence and stillness, earth awaits the Resurrection. Tonight we shall kindle the new fire, listen to the story of our salvation by the light of the paschal candle, join with those reborn in baptism and celebrate the Eucharist with great joy. Out of the darkenss of this night will come the triple Alleluia that heralds Easter gladness.

Church and oratory look desolate this morning, the altar stripped, the tabernacle hanging open, a huge emptiness where formerly there was Presence. This afternoon, during the Solemn Liturgy, the Church will revert to a very ancient form of prayer, stark in its simplicity but weighted with drama and tension. St John's account of the Passion can be read on so many different levels, but we shall hear it today as though for the first time. The tremendous sequence of Preces, during which we pray for everyone and everything, reminds us that the Crucifixion of Christ is of cosmic significance. Our minds stumble against this truth which only the poet and musician seem able to grasp, and then imperfectly. Fortunately, the liturgy gives us something we can all take hold of: the creeping to the Cross is our own part in this drama, a way of acting out our need for salvation, our recognition of Jesus as Saviour.

Tonight we begin the sacred Paschal Triduum with the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Liturgically, that Mass, the Solemn Good Friday Liturgy and the Easter Vigil form a single celebration of the Lord's Passion, Death and Resurrection, the highlight of the Church's year. There will be no dismissal at the end of Mass. Instead we shall walk a torch-lit path up to the Chapel of St Amand and St John the Baptist at Hendred House, where there will be watching until midnight before the Altar of Repose. There is something satisfying in the thought that the Blessed Sacrament will be taken to a medieval chapel where it has been honoured for over seven hundred years. Nice also to think, as we sing the Tantum Ergo, that St Thomas's hymn was new-minted when the chapel was built. But whether we celebrate in the grandest of cathedrals or the meanest of mission chapels, nothing can compare with the immense significance of what we are recalling tonight: the Lord's gift of himself in the Eucharist and the ordained priesthood, and the example of service he set in the washing of feet.

There is an extra quietness in the monastery this week. The oratory is being cleaned as never before, the altar candlesticks and processional cross gleam; a sombre excitement seems to hang in the air. But it would be a mistake to think that we have withdrawn into a world unrelated to the one in which we live. Economic meltdown affects everybody, and requests for prayer never cease. Christ's pain and the world's pain are somehow held in tension. The starkness of the liturgy reflects the unfolding drama. What we have to do is to allow the liturgy to do its work in us.

The beginning of Holy Week, the Great Week of the Year. Strange to think that this English village, its quiet cobbles shining with rain, its poplars soughing in the wind, is liturgically one with a hot and dusty road leading into Jerusalem almost two thousand years ago. The palms we hold are whitened by the sun, the bleak words of the Passion hammer like nails against the walls of our indifference. It is as well we know the end of the story and can pray with the poet:
Some fruit from the tree of thy Passion
Fall on us this night.
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There is an arresting phrase in today's collect, in which we ask to be "freed from the fetters of sin our weakness has forged", a peccatorum nexibus quae pro nostra fragilitate contraximus . . . liberemur. So much of what we dislike about ourselves, and which others also dislike about us, stems from weakness rather than deliberate malice. Forgiveness is never easy, as we all know. Sometimes, to forgive oneself while at the same time striving to change that which requires change is the hardest task of all. We cannot for one moment escape ourselves.

A week may be a long time in politics but it can seem like an eternity in a monastery. We all seem to have been scampering from one urgent job to another and I notice that jawlines are becoming a little set and tempers a little frayed. It is timely therefore to be reading St Benedict on kitchen service. The sixth century kitchen was not a very attractive place — no gadgets, no extractors to keep the heat and steam levels down, no ergonomically designed tools and work-surfaces, but lots of beans and pulses to try to make appetizing, in season and out. Odd, then, that Benedict should single out working under such conditions as promoting mutual love and be anxious that no one should be excused kitchen service unless unwell or, like the cellarer, busy about multitudinous tasks elsewhere. Food can easily become a source of friction, while some people have strange attitudes towards tasks they regard as menial. I think Benedict uses kitchen service as a concrete example of the need for mutual service, and in the case of those with less skill, mutual forgiveness. "Respect the cook, it could be you" is the watchword for today.

Every time I read chapter 33 of the Rule, I examine my conscience (and the conscience of the community). It is so easy to allow "possessions" to multiply, or treat as one's own goods meant to be common to all. Benedict was quite right in seeing the sense of private ownership as leading to a weakening of community. When one has nothing, absolutely nothing, one can call one's own, one is indeed wholly reliant on the community. Paradoxically, one is also free. I don't mean the kind of freedom which implies having no worries or cares or being at liberty to do whatever one likes without reckoning the cost. I mean the kind of freedom which cannot be measured by what one has or one's ability to impose one's will on others: the freedom simply to be the person one is. It is a freedom uniting one with others rather than separating from them. Perhaps we in the West should take a second look at our attitudes to the very poor: they are indeed our brethren, and our sharing with them is no more than their due.

I wonder how many people woke up, like us, to no electricity and had to bustle about extracting a camping stove from some dark cupboard to make a hot drink? A minor inconvenience for us is the status quo for much of the world. It can make one uncomfortable about some of the things we are "offering up" for Lent. But before everyone dashes off and decides that it is all a sham and we might just as well not bother, we might reflect that it is not so much what we are doing (or not doing) that matters as the motivation. It is humbling to think that God values our trifling "sacrifices" because they are done for love of him.

There is a lot in Benedict's chapter on the cellarer (=bursar/administrator) that is applicable to anyone who has any kind of management role or administrative responsibility. The personal qualities required are eminently reasonable — if daunting for the person chosen: wisdom, maturity of character, someone in control of his/her appetites and emotions, kindly and concerned. Benedict is aware that the cellarer will have to deal with people who choose exactly the wrong moment to make a request, or make outrageous demands. The response must be courteous, free from any pride or disdain. (CEOs, please take note.) There is also some positive teaching about the attitudes the cellarer should cultivate. A modern writer might sum these up as having a sense of corporate responsibility, a social conscience and a commitment to the right use of human and material resources. It would be going too far to say that Benedict was a Green avant la lettre, but the reverence he wishes to instil is unmistakable. If the monastery's goods are to be looked upon as sacred altar vessels, clearly there is no room for any form of exploitation or misuse. Finally, today's section of the Rule ends with a reminder that the cellarer should not go beyond the authority allowed him/her. There are restraints in life, and some of them are for a good purpose.

The last two weeks have been so busy that many good intentions have fallen by the wayside. Even looking out of the window seems to have been reduced to a minimum. Yesterday evening, however, I had a huge surprise. There in the garden was the frame of a greenhouse! I had not noticed it before. Some friends had sneaked it in while I was working on the other side of the house. Only fellow gardeners will understand the excitement this gift has caused. If the weather is equally kind, the monastery garden will be more productive this year.

Daffodils and leeks a-plenty to celebrate St David's day! Much as I love Wales, I have always found Celtic monasticism a little hard to take, especially the "aquatic" variety associated with David himself. There is something dourly athletic about it all, reminiscent of the Desert Fathers at their least approachable. If one were to take the current sections of RB at face value, one would have to admit something of the same in Benedict. Happily, I do not know of any monasteries where corporal punishment is still practised, nor do I think many communities adhere to the details of his prescriptions regarding warm baths or sleeping arrangements. But chopping and changing to suit oneself is dangerous. Possessiveness, whether of books, burgundy or basset hounds, can lead to serious problems in the common life; while excommunication at the social rather than ecclesiastical level is still an ever-present possibility. (Our latest podcast will be posted on Sunday evening, but you can now listen to previous podcasts on our archive page.)

An early morning walk near the sheepfields, to the accompaniment of birdsong and sunshine. Have you ever noticed the glitter of light that comes from a sheep's fleece as it catches the sun's rays? Or the way greenfinches seem to need to chatter about everything they do? The woodland snowdrops and daffodils are a delight to the eye. It is good to think that the whole of creation praises God in its own way.

My best thanks to the RCIA Group at Woodford Green who generously invited me to give them a Day of Recollection on Saturday. As always, one receives much more than one gives and I am still pondering some of the questions asked and the insights shared. One of the joys of the day was being with people who have come to Catholicism via many different routes and who have such a sense of the great treasure offered them that they are prepared to make huge sacrifices. It was truly humbling. The (delayed) Prayer Podcast takes up one of the big questions that the group raised.

A feast of the unity of the Church and a reminder that the first of the four conditions for an infallible papal utterance is that he should be speaking ex cathedra, from the chair, i.e. in his official capacity as pope. The Anglo-Saxons had a special devotion to St Peter and his successors: one thinks of all those Anglo-Saxon kings making pilgrimages to the tombs of the apostles, or Benet Biscop bringing back treasures from Rome, including John the Cantor, to beautify English church worship. Certainly, in Rome one does get a sense of unbroken tradition, of Romanitas and catholicity, and here and there, in the quiet of Sta Sabina perhaps, or one of the other less-visited basilicas, an intimation of a reality which surpasses all the "smoke and the noise and grandeur of Rome" itself.

More suicides are committed in February than in any other month, apparently. In Britain the number of young people committing suicide is beginning to trouble the media as well as families and friends. If one has not oneself experienced despair, it is impossible to understand the depths of misery and loneliness that could prompt the taking of one's own life. We often underestimate the significance of covert appeals for help. If anyone were to say he/she was feeling suicidal, we would all assure them that things must eventually get better; but the sad fact is, most suicides do not announce their intention beforehand, nor do they believe in the possibility of things improving. Cain doubtingly asked God if he was his brother's keeper. Probably most of us feel that in some sense we are responsible for others. To use a fashionable phrase, we all have a duty of care. Maybe the man who acts like the life and soul of the party is in desperate need of someone reaching out to him; maybe the woman with the carefree laugh is weighed down with terrors we know nothing of; maybe the child who looks so "normal" we scarcely notice needs someone to look again. Looking again is something God does all the time.

Yesterday was busy, busy, busy, even for life in the monastery. Some things, however, had to be done, like putting a new hard disk inside an elderly computer (a Mac, so no problems there) and a few overdue changes to the web site (no time for all of them, of course). Whenever we tackle some of these "pending jobs", it seems a host of others follow in their train. We rarely use the dishwasher except when we have groups in, and naturally, because we have several groups in over the next few weeks, the dishwasher has decided to die. I was trying to repair the door of a kitchen cabinet the other week when a second fell off. Should we put away the toolbox, I wonder. Fixing things is apparently not for us.

The Lenten Sunday Mass readings form an excellent baptismal catechesis. Last Sunday we were with Jesus in the wilderness, struggling with temptations of body and mind; this Sunday we shall be on the mountain of Transfiguration, glimpsing something of the glory that one day will be ours. It is a strange and startling transition but one we must take seriously. This week's podcast comes both in audio form as usual or in video (rather homespun video, alas). The audio quality is not up to scratch but we hope it soon will be.

A sad sight yesterday as we walked along the Ridgeway: a wounded buzzard, flying limpingly from bush to bush. We could not quite see what was wrong, but the bird was apparently in distress and we were powerless to help. A reminder, if we needed one, of the fragility of every living being.

There is no doubt about it, more people will be celebrating St Valentine today than St Cyril and St Methodius. Sales of red roses, chocolates and champagne will soar while the religiously inclined will be left feeling like bubble-busters as they keep their Lenten fast and ponder the saintly brothers' work for Church Slavonic and the liturgy — so dull by comparison. For the Church's calendar to be so out of step with contemporary culture is a modern phenomenon. Many of the earliest liturgical commemorations were of pagan festivals Christianized, just as many Christian holy places were built on the site of pagan ones. Gregory the Great's advice to Augustine of Canterbury was typical: do not destroy the shrines of the Angles but make them Christian. Can we make Valentine's Day a little more Christian without making it dull? Donne springs to mind.

The words which introduce and conclude the giving of this prayer in today's gospel constitute in themselves a little treatise on the nature of prayer, just as the Lord's Prayer itself is a pattern for all Christian prayer. We are reminded that we do not neeed words: our Father knows our needs even before we can put them into words; what he looks for in us is a heart ready to give and receive forgiveness. We worry that God will not hear us, which is why we multiply our babblings. Instead, we need to worry whether we will hear him, whether we will be ready to be a channel of his love and forgiveness, the miracle of being a forgiven sinner.

The Wantage branch of the Catholic Women's League met here on Saturday for a Day of Recollection. What a treasure the Church has in women such as these: lively, intelligent, compassionate. Sadly, the CWL does seem to have something of an image problem today, which is a pity because a lot of women are missing out on something really good — and so are those parishes where the work of the League is equated with the production of endless cups of tea. The Wantage branch are certainly not walk-overs and draw their membership from a wide range of ages and occupations. After Mass, talks and discussion ranged from Newman and his ideas of doctrinal development to Summorum Pontificum and the ways in which liturgy engages hearts and minds — or fails to. But what always strikes us is the generosity and kindness the members show both to one another and to us. We may have been the hosts in theory, but we learn every time the CWL comes what it is to be treated "tamquam Christus", as though we were Christ.

Our normally quiet village seems to go into overdrive on Saturdays. There is much toing and froing in the direction of supermarkets, extra-curricular activities for the children and some serious gardening and DIY, not to mention all the household cleaning and laundry going on behind closed doors. Inevitably so, when people are busy earning a living all the rest of the week. How much of this activity, however, is a preparation for Sunday, for sabbath rest and enjoyment? It is quite possible now for Saturday and Sunday to be two more or less identical days with more or less identical activity filling each, with a token hour in church at some point for the religiously inclined. It isn't only God who deserves something better but we ourselves. Saturday can make Sunday special — if we let it.

A day for penitence and pancakes, although finding a priest to hear one's confession will be a little harder than finding pancakes! There is a charming village custom here: the children assemble outside the manor house at midday and sing an ancient ditty for which they are rewarded with buns. I suppose it is the last remnant of the idea of a feast preceding the Lenten fast. Meanwhile, we can digest the unsurprising news that there has been a steep decline in the numbers of monks and nuns, Sisters and Brothers. Perhaps we need to ask ourselves whether we have not made religion dreary and uninteresting, entirely lacking in challenge. I don't think that is true of the monastery here, but not everyone can cope with the kind of challenge a new foundation presents. Finally, by request, a photo of Duncan the monastery dog, cheerfully untroubled by sober thoughts.

The sixth step of humility is a difficult one for most people. The idea of thinking about oneself as "a bad and worthless worker" flies in the face of contemporary ideas about having a positive self-image. I don't think Benedict would have approved of our denying any talent God has given us: denial is a covert form of pride and ultimately destructive. Benedict wants us to be simple and straightforward, recognizing that every gift and grace comes from God. In these verses he is asking us to learn the art of contentment. We cannot grow spiritually if we are always wanting a grace that is not meant for us or if we are always seeking "perfect conditions" — for ourselves or in others. Perfect conditions are those that are, however much we might prefer them otherwise. After a stressful couple of days, I'm pleased to say Duncan seems to be more relaxed and his usual happy self. If he too can practise St Benedict's sixth step, we may make a monastic dog of him yet.

Our email "prayerline" (see our home page) often brings requests for prayer that are heart-rending. We try to respond to each one, so that whoever makes the request knows that his or her email has been read and will be prayed for by real people. So often the email begins "I'm not religious but . . ." and charts a long, sad history of defeated hopes. It is good that people know instinctively that we, at least, don't "do despair" and that the heart of the monastery, its life of prayer, is open to all, no matter how estranged they feel from organized religion or how hostile they may be to the God they feel has inflicted so much suffering on those they love. Just occasionally, we hear of prayer being answered in ways that surpass anything anyone could have foreseen. More often we hear nothing further. It doesn't matter. Our contract with the world, so to say, is to go on praying.

Do we write about St Paul, Rabbie Burns, the end of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, St Benedict on the subject of humility, the appearance today of the last of our guest pieces in the New Statesman's online Faith Column or — something else? It would be more interesting to let you into a few "secrets". You will soon be able to access all the riches of Blackwells online bookshop through our web site, and sometime during the next week or so, we shall be welcoming a newcomer to the community (photo promised). Traffic to our web site has increased to the point where we need to move the hosting to another company or use a dedicated server. Either way, we need more bandwith to implement our and your ideas for development of the site, but as our purse is not bottomless, we shall have to do some serious thinking. It promises to be a busy week-end.

I've never really understood why Christians have a reputation for being dour and disapproving. The contrary ought to be true. St Benedict says we ought to be cheerful, and surely anyone who believes that he or she has been redeemed has cause to rejoice. Perhaps Kierkegaard was right when he said the problem with Christians is, we don't look redeemed. The gleaming smiles of American tele-evangelists are not very convincing, of course. True joy radiates from the whole person and warms all who come into contact with it. Not a bad thought for a January day.

The Baptism of Christ is the last of the Christmas feasts (although we shall have one last look back at Christmas on Candlemas Day). It reminds us of Our Lord's mission, the purpose for which he was born. One of the Fathers of the Church remarks that all the waters of the earth were made holy on this day — something we in the northern hemisphere often forget because we seem to have so much water at times. It is a day for remembering what a gift was conferred on us at our own baptism and giving thanks.

Am greatly enjoying Claire Tomalin's excellent biography of Hardy, Thomas Hardy the Time-Torn Man. She seems to have understood better than many Hardy's ambivalence and tension concerning his own social status and the interplay with his ambition as a writer. Like all good biographies, it makes one want to reread the novels and poetry at a gallop. I was leafing through Under the Greenwood Tree again and wondering whether attitudes to the poor shape literature about them or literature about the poor shapes attitudes to them. The phrase "the deserving poor" is a case in point. It is never difficult to help those one considers to be deserving, it's the people one has doubts about that really test one's generosity and kindness. Just as well God doesn't "means test" his creation since none of us is worthy of his love. It is all gift.

The comparatively modern feast of the Holy Family is difficult to celebrate liturgically — at any rate, many of us who live in monasteries tend to be unenthusiastic about it. The Christmas Octave contains so much, and already we are looking forward to the Octave Day, 1 January, Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God (we are holding back this week's podcast until New Year's Eve for obvious reasons). Perhaps one difficulty stems from the fact that the very concept of "family" has undergone so many transitions. The Jesus-Mary-and-Joseph model isn't much help if one simply dwells on the perfection of its constituent members. Perhaps there is something there about growth in holiness which can be useful to us who are imperfect. Hope so.

This is the month, and this the happy morn
Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring . . .

Milton's Ode on the Morning of Christ's Nativity conveys something of the majesty of Christ's birth (and, incidentally, contains one of the most magical lines ever penned, "While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave"); but we must look to the kitsch that adorns many of our churches and the tangle of wrapping paper and ribbon spilling out of millions of homes to understand the more human side of this tremendous mystery. God is involved in every aspect of our lives: the joys, the sorrows, the struggles and the triumphs. Since his birth at Bethlehem, He has become one with us, one might almost say, one of us. The even greater wonder is that we have become one with Him. Happy Christmas, everyone!

O Emmanuel, our King and Law Giver, longed for by the Nations and their Saviour, come and save us, O Lord our God. The prophecy of Isaiah 7.14 expressed in prayer. What do we really mean when we say Emmanuel, God-with-us? The idea of a God not "out there" but identified with us in the flesh is truly mind-boggling. We can end up sentimentalising the Incarnation almost to absurdity in an effort to grasp the truth it contains. Perhaps today we could just spend a minute or two thinking about our own personal need of a Saviour and be grateful. (To listen to today's antiphon, go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page and use the drop-down menu. Recording by courtesy of Fr Jim Tucker and the North American College. Our Prayer Podcast for the week will be uploaded on Christmas Eve)

O Dayspring, Splendour of Eternal Light and Sun of Justice, come and give light to those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. How lucky we are to live in northern latitudes, where midwinter darkness falls early and Isaiah 9.2 takes on an extra nuance. Perhaps today the "sitting in darkness and the shadow of death" strikes home in a way that it did not even a few years ago. We have all become so much more aware of human vulnerability and the vulnerability of the earth on which we live. "For evil to triumph, it is enough for the good to do nothing." That applies whether we are talking about some of the big challenges of life — climate change, international terrorism, poverty, etc. — or the smaller things — an ethical attitude to the contents of the office stationery cupboard, for example. We all need the Light of the World to shine on our hearts, cleanse them of sin and make us grow in holiness. Funny how we sometimes try to avoid the light, isn't it? (To listen to today's antiphon, go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page and use the drop-down menu. Recording by courtesy of Fr Jim Tucker and the North American College.)

O Key of David, and Sceptre of the House of Israel, who open and no one shuts: come and free those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. The O antiphon recalls both Isaiah 22 (the key of the house of David) and Isaiah 9 (a child is born to us, a son is given to us, and government is upon his shoulder) while monastic tradition associates this day with the Gospel of the Annunciation. It is customary for the superior to give a talk on the Annunciation gospel, always called the Missus Est (from the Latin missus est angelus Gabriel a Deo, the angel Gabriel was sent from God). The finest of all Missus Est sermons are by St Bernard, but today, in every Benedictine monastery throughout the world, a monk or nun will be trying to say something about that moment of unequalled faith when Mary consented to be the mother of Jesus, and in so doing became the Mother of God. Surely there is a lesson there for us, too. God can transform our trifling acts of love and surrender into something that exceeds all our hopes and imaginings, if only we let him. (To listen to today's antiphon, go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page and use the drop-down menu. Recording by courtesy of Fr Jim Tucker and the North American College.)

By tradition, the O antiphons are usually sung by the most senior members of the community/certain officials for whom the imagery — roots, keys, and so on — seems peculiarly appropriate. O Radix Jesse naturally falls to the gardener: O Root of Jesse, who stand as an ensign for the people, before whom kings will fall silent, and whom the Gentiles will seek, come and deliver us — do not delay! Such a wealth of scriptural allusion is packed into these words, from Isaiah 11 to Revelation 5. The flower that arises from the root of Jesse is an image that poets and songwriters have delighted in. It conveys an idea of the simultaneous fragility and perfection of the birth of Christ:
A winter rose shall flower
On Jesse's ancient stem:
The word of God unfolding
Before the eyes of men.
(To listen to today's antiphon, go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page and use the drop-down menu. Recording by courtesy of Fr Jim Tucker and the North American College.)

If you looked at the Roman sequence of O Antiphons yesterday, you will have been struck by the way in which they use the prophecy of Isaiah to proclaim different aspects of the Messiah. Today we ask the Lord, Ruler of the House of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the burning bush and gave him the Law on Sinai, to come and free us with outstretched arm — a reference to Isaiah 11 (with righteousness he will judge the poor, etc.) and Isaiah 33 (the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our king, he will save us, etc.) with remembrances of the Lord's "outstretched arm" in Exodus. So, what does all this mean for us today? For a Christian, the absolute holiness of God, as seen in the Burning Bush, and the absolute primacy of God, as seen in the giving of the Law on Sinai, challenge our comfortable accommodations with the world in which we live. God is God, and he alone can save; but do we really believe that? (To listen to today's antiphon, go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page and use the drop-down menu. Recording by courtesy of Fr Jim Tucker and the North American College.)

If you read Colophon while at work, you may find today's chapter of the Rule interesting (go to the Prayer Box on the Vocation page.) The fundamental disposition required for any work — art, craft or what you will — is honesty and humility (competence is, I think, presumed). Today, monasteries have to be careful about not undercutting commercial competitors rather than overpricing their goods and services, but they still need to be sensitive about what they do and how they do it. What interests me about this chapter, however, is Benedict's acute psychological perception that work can become an ego-trip or worse. How many retired people suddenly feel life has come to an end because they can no longer define themselves as Joe Bloggs the Bank manager or Jill Bloggs the Practice manager? Advent is a good time for thinking about our own relationship with work (or lack of it.) If we are to prepare a highway for God in the desert of our hearts, that which takes up a large part of every day must be part of the structure. Work is not prayer, but it can be a preparation for prayer, can be accompanied by prayer. Above all, it can be transformed by prayer.

The end of the Church year is upon us, and today we celebrate the feast of Christ the King. It is a very modern feast, and addresses a peculiarly modern problem. It was instituted by Pius XI in 1925 to combat secularism and the totalitarian ideologies that resulted in Nazism on the one hand and Stalinism on the other, with all the gradations of horror in between. It would be a mistake to believe that all is now for the best in the best of all possible worlds. Lucifer is an angel of light still, though the light he sheds is the antithesis of that shining from the Light of the World. Today's podcast reminds us that we must still do battle with evil, but Christ has triumphed and the promise he makes is one of paradise.
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We have been heartened by the number of people who have adopted Easyclick as their search engine of preference in order to help charity. Now there is another, which uses Yahoo as its search engine and to us seems even better. Take a look at Easysearch http://holytrinityoxfordshire.easysearch.org.uk/. If you use it for some at least of your searches, you can benefit us at no cost to yourself. Please also keep in mind the Easyfundraising portal http://www.easyfundraising.org.uk/holytrinityoxfordshire for your Christmas shopping. If you go to your favourite online store via that link, you will not pay anything more, but we get a proportion of the "referral fee", typically between 1% and 15% of the purchase price. If you like the idea of helping charity in this way but do not wish to support us, please follow this link http://www.easyfundraising.org.uk/referral/3738 to sign up at Easyfundraising and choose another good cause. We ourselves are unable to give very much in the way of monetary alms to other charities, but we are glad to have found this way of helping some.

To Torch House, Market Harborough yesterday, to see the work of the Torch Trust and, in particular, pick their brains about the introduction of DAISY CDs at St Cecilia's. Fascinating day, during which we learned a lot (not difficult, when one knows very little to start with) and were most graciously received by our hosts who made us very welcome and took infinite pains over our questions. Just before we left, they interviewed us for Premier Christian Radio. To discover more about the Torch Trust, go to www.torchtrust.org