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St Gregory the Great
03/September/2010
My attention wandered during Vigils this morning. I began by thinking about Gregory the Great as the Great Communicator. His letters are clear, concise treatments of the matter in hand, often marked by a commonsense approach which was anything but common at the time (Gregory on the role of women, marriage and what we would now call family life should be read by all who think the Catholic Church's teaching antediluvian in attitude). His liturgical reforms are legendary, and he was, of course, the first pope to come from a monastic background. Everyone knows he sent Augustine to these shores after seeing Anglo-Saxon slaves for sale in the slave-market (non Angli sed angeli).
That is where my distraction began. We know that Gregory was probably blue-eyed with fair hair himself (actually, he was pretty bald on top, but the hair at the sides was long and carefully curled, after the Roman fashion of the day). Both his parents were tall, so there is a distinct possibility that Gregory was, too. I wonder whether he saw in those young Anglo-Saxons a vision of himself in boyhood and thought what might have become of him had he not been a Christian? Our most important acts are sometimes prompted by thoughts and feelings that barely make a ripple on the surface of our conscious mind. Could it have been so with Gregory? I don't know, but I spent a pleasant couple of minutes wondering and I daresay I shall spend the rest of the day scrutinising some of my own motivations.
There's the rub. Distractions in themselves are neither good nor bad. It is what we do with them that counts.
(Note for the historically curious: Gregory had portraits of his parents frecoed on to the walls of his monastery of St Andrew's on the Caelian Hill and the monks had a portrait done of Gregory himself: these were seen about three hundred years later by John the Deacon, who described all three. Gordianus, Gregory's father, had "light eyes" and his mother, Silvia, had blue eyes. Gordianus's hair-colour was described as "light tawny". Clearly, neither was olive-skinned with dark eyes, as we might have expected.)
That is where my distraction began. We know that Gregory was probably blue-eyed with fair hair himself (actually, he was pretty bald on top, but the hair at the sides was long and carefully curled, after the Roman fashion of the day). Both his parents were tall, so there is a distinct possibility that Gregory was, too. I wonder whether he saw in those young Anglo-Saxons a vision of himself in boyhood and thought what might have become of him had he not been a Christian? Our most important acts are sometimes prompted by thoughts and feelings that barely make a ripple on the surface of our conscious mind. Could it have been so with Gregory? I don't know, but I spent a pleasant couple of minutes wondering and I daresay I shall spend the rest of the day scrutinising some of my own motivations.
There's the rub. Distractions in themselves are neither good nor bad. It is what we do with them that counts.
(Note for the historically curious: Gregory had portraits of his parents frecoed on to the walls of his monastery of St Andrew's on the Caelian Hill and the monks had a portrait done of Gregory himself: these were seen about three hundred years later by John the Deacon, who described all three. Gordianus, Gregory's father, had "light eyes" and his mother, Silvia, had blue eyes. Gordianus's hair-colour was described as "light tawny". Clearly, neither was olive-skinned with dark eyes, as we might have expected.)
A Religion of Joy
31/August/2010
Why do so many people think of Christianity as joyless? They see only the prohibitions, I suppose, and regard them as a curtailment of freedom rather than as a means to true freedom. Then again, some people have to feel miserable in order to feel good; which is sad, especially when they inflict their views on those around them. Others worry and fret that anything they enjoy must somehow be sinful, or, even worse, be sinful for others.(How often has someone, wine-glass in hand, opined that they are shocked by the idea of nuns drinking wine; to which the only honest answer is, "Christ was a wine-bibber, and though I'm only drinking water at the moment, it is for the sake of your scruples, not mine.")
God doesn't want us to be gloomy. He made us for the enjoyment of this world and the next. We tend to forget that he delights in our happiness and that we honour him and his creation by being joyful. Do not make the mistake of thinking that joy is inconsistent with suffering or difficulty. Negative experiences force us to take our eyes off ourselves, which can be the first step in allowing joy into our lives. As Hebrews 12.2 reminds us, Jesus endured the Cross, despising its shame "for the joy that was set before him". We do not know what today will bring but whether it be good or ill, we have reason to be joyful.
God doesn't want us to be gloomy. He made us for the enjoyment of this world and the next. We tend to forget that he delights in our happiness and that we honour him and his creation by being joyful. Do not make the mistake of thinking that joy is inconsistent with suffering or difficulty. Negative experiences force us to take our eyes off ourselves, which can be the first step in allowing joy into our lives. As Hebrews 12.2 reminds us, Jesus endured the Cross, despising its shame "for the joy that was set before him". We do not know what today will bring but whether it be good or ill, we have reason to be joyful.
Bad Boy Makes Good
28/August/2010
Forgive the title for this post, but St Augustine's story is of a remarkable change of heart and all the consequences which flow from that. The young Augustine was brilliant but brittle: he was clever, but he was also ambitious and selfish. Even his conversion to Christianity was not without its problematic side. History, however, has forgiven him his abandonment of his mistress and their son, forgiven but not forgotten, for the effect of these events in his private life and what we once thought of as the decay of the Roman Empire (revisionist historians now stress continuity rather than change) on the development of Augustine's theology is incalculable.
From Augustine come the concepts of original sin and the just war; the first fully-articulated realisation of the need of grace for true freedom; the idea of the Church as a spiritual City of God; the monastic rules and the example of monastic living in north Africa, and much more. In the Confessions, he gave us a new literary genre: the spiritual autobiography which goes beyond what we commonly expect of such a work to give us a theory of time which still commands respect today. Above all, Augustine engaged intellectually with the questions behind the "plain sense of scripture". His view of human nature was far less pessimistic than is often suggested; and in the expositions of the psalms or the sermons, for example, which were jotted down by a listener as he spoke, we hear the warmth and humanity of Augustine the pastor.
Augustine was a great man, all the greater for not seeking greatness, one of Africa's best gifts to the Church. May he pray for us all.
From Augustine come the concepts of original sin and the just war; the first fully-articulated realisation of the need of grace for true freedom; the idea of the Church as a spiritual City of God; the monastic rules and the example of monastic living in north Africa, and much more. In the Confessions, he gave us a new literary genre: the spiritual autobiography which goes beyond what we commonly expect of such a work to give us a theory of time which still commands respect today. Above all, Augustine engaged intellectually with the questions behind the "plain sense of scripture". His view of human nature was far less pessimistic than is often suggested; and in the expositions of the psalms or the sermons, for example, which were jotted down by a listener as he spoke, we hear the warmth and humanity of Augustine the pastor.
Augustine was a great man, all the greater for not seeking greatness, one of Africa's best gifts to the Church. May he pray for us all.
A Feisty Woman
27/August/2010
St Monica gets rather a raw deal. Everyone is so mesmerised by her son, Augustine, that she only seems to exist in reference to him. She is commemorated as a widow, yet the story of her marriage to the pagan Patricius, a difficult and demanding man, rather than her widowhood, is surely the story of her sanctification. In her younger years, she struggled with a drink problem; in her later years, she struggled with philosophy and theology in order to be able to engage with her brilliant but wayward son. It would be interesting to know how far their discussion of Ambrose's sermons drew Augustine away from Manicheism.
Augustine wrote poignantly about their last meeting at Ostia and rightly attributed the grace of his own conversion, as well as that of his father, to his mother's prayers and influence. The Church, by and large, has remembered only her prayers, but Monica is a good example of a tough-minded woman with a generous heart, remarkably clear-eyed about her family's shortcomings but firm in faith and patient under all the blows that life dealt her. She is the patron saint of married women, mothers and alcoholics. Her heaven is obviously a busy one.
Augustine wrote poignantly about their last meeting at Ostia and rightly attributed the grace of his own conversion, as well as that of his father, to his mother's prayers and influence. The Church, by and large, has remembered only her prayers, but Monica is a good example of a tough-minded woman with a generous heart, remarkably clear-eyed about her family's shortcomings but firm in faith and patient under all the blows that life dealt her. She is the patron saint of married women, mothers and alcoholics. Her heaven is obviously a busy one.
Living Carefully
26/August/2010
It is depressing when medical people tell one to "be careful". I was hoping I could start living "normally" again, conscious of the backlog of work that has built up over the past few weeks, the bills that will soon be falling due, all the plans on hold while waiting for some little clots to disperse. Unfortunately, they haven't, so this curious kind of pottering existence must continue. It seems the antithesis of everything monastic, never to be still for more than a few minutes at a time, always having to think how to do whatever needs to be done and accepting that some things are currently not possible. Frustration!
The truth is that in my heart of hearts I rather despise the idea of "being careful". It is such a namby-pamby notion, not at all to my taste. St Benedict has an answer for that, of course. In chapter 33 he reminds us that as monks and nuns we do not have even our bodies and wills at our own disposal (RB 33.4). They are given to God and the community unreservedly. That is so contrary to modern ideas of self-sufficiency and self-fulfilment that it comes as something of a shock. Do I not have any rights in the matter? Well, no, you don't. Everything you do, even the lifestyle you adopt, has consequences for which you, and you alone, are responsible. You are, as it were, a steward of yourself and it is up to you to prove yourself a good steward.
That means, alas, that I'll have to do as I'm told and bear the anger and annoyance of those whose own plans will be affected by the scuppering of my own. My guilt feelings will probably head towards the stratosphere but I'm sure I'll learn something valuable. The skies won't fall in because I'm not there to hold them up; and possibly, just possibly, I'll learn that God's ideas are better than my own. Hope so.
The truth is that in my heart of hearts I rather despise the idea of "being careful". It is such a namby-pamby notion, not at all to my taste. St Benedict has an answer for that, of course. In chapter 33 he reminds us that as monks and nuns we do not have even our bodies and wills at our own disposal (RB 33.4). They are given to God and the community unreservedly. That is so contrary to modern ideas of self-sufficiency and self-fulfilment that it comes as something of a shock. Do I not have any rights in the matter? Well, no, you don't. Everything you do, even the lifestyle you adopt, has consequences for which you, and you alone, are responsible. You are, as it were, a steward of yourself and it is up to you to prove yourself a good steward.
That means, alas, that I'll have to do as I'm told and bear the anger and annoyance of those whose own plans will be affected by the scuppering of my own. My guilt feelings will probably head towards the stratosphere but I'm sure I'll learn something valuable. The skies won't fall in because I'm not there to hold them up; and possibly, just possibly, I'll learn that God's ideas are better than my own. Hope so.
Conspiracy and Cover-Up
25/August/2010
The Claudy bombings were a disgraceful episode in a disgraceful history of murder and terror but one doubts whether we are really any nearer the truth concerning the involvement of individuals. Was Fr James Chesney involved in the bombing or not? All decent-minded people must be disgusted at the thought that he might have been; they must also be disgusted at the thought that he is being talked and written about as guilty when we don't actually know. The fact that he's dead adds to the unease: he cannot defend himself.
When we move from the particular (Fr Chesney) to the general (Catholic Church), the situation becomes more complicated, because the Church exists here and now; but while the Church of the day is often held to account for the faults and failures of the Church of the past, the historian in me questions whether that is always valid. For example, I, personally, feel no need to "apologize" for the excesses of various Inquisitions, much as I abominate what was done. In fact, it's quite likely that my ancestors were both persecuting and persecuted; the same is probably true for most people. But historical apologies of that kind have become fashionable, indeed are often demanded. Any moment now I expect to read a demand for an apology "from the Church" for the evils Fr Chesney is suspected of having committed. I'm not sure how that works.
It is always easier to make accusations of conspiracy and cover-up than to substantiate or rebut them. The trouble is, accusations about conduct in the past tend to colour people's views of the present: ask anyone with the surname of Borgia or Crippen. So, the discussion about the Claudy bombings has implications for the present, even if we can never reach certainty one way or the other about Fr Chesney's involvement.
The difficulty of establishing facts and of judging them (not the same thing, although often equated) is compounded by the difficulty of making an imaginative leap into the world of the past, of entering into how people thought and felt about things in days gone by. People laugh now when I recall that my father told me, in all seriousness, never to go out with a man who wore a made-up bow-tie. It was code, of course, but a code we all understood. No one understands the code today: we think it just plain silly. Was it silly at the time? It didn't seem so.
Similarly, can we enter into how politicians and clergy thought and felt about the IRA and the "structures of society" forty years ago? It's difficult, even for those of us who lived through those times. It might be more helpful to concentrate on what is very much a question of our time: the need, real or imagined, to apportion blame, to make someone pay for wrongs done. The enormities of the Pol Pot regime and the Lockerbie bomber spring to mind, and the debate about how justice should be served. No one is arguing that wrong-doing should go unpunished, it's more a question of deciding what is appropriate punishment, what other factors should be taken into account beyond the establishment of guilt.
It may sound lame, but maybe we should just concentrate on trying to keep society safe now, leaving the evils of the past to God. "Vengeance is mine, says the Lord." It is better left to his hands than ours.
When we move from the particular (Fr Chesney) to the general (Catholic Church), the situation becomes more complicated, because the Church exists here and now; but while the Church of the day is often held to account for the faults and failures of the Church of the past, the historian in me questions whether that is always valid. For example, I, personally, feel no need to "apologize" for the excesses of various Inquisitions, much as I abominate what was done. In fact, it's quite likely that my ancestors were both persecuting and persecuted; the same is probably true for most people. But historical apologies of that kind have become fashionable, indeed are often demanded. Any moment now I expect to read a demand for an apology "from the Church" for the evils Fr Chesney is suspected of having committed. I'm not sure how that works.
It is always easier to make accusations of conspiracy and cover-up than to substantiate or rebut them. The trouble is, accusations about conduct in the past tend to colour people's views of the present: ask anyone with the surname of Borgia or Crippen. So, the discussion about the Claudy bombings has implications for the present, even if we can never reach certainty one way or the other about Fr Chesney's involvement.
The difficulty of establishing facts and of judging them (not the same thing, although often equated) is compounded by the difficulty of making an imaginative leap into the world of the past, of entering into how people thought and felt about things in days gone by. People laugh now when I recall that my father told me, in all seriousness, never to go out with a man who wore a made-up bow-tie. It was code, of course, but a code we all understood. No one understands the code today: we think it just plain silly. Was it silly at the time? It didn't seem so.
Similarly, can we enter into how politicians and clergy thought and felt about the IRA and the "structures of society" forty years ago? It's difficult, even for those of us who lived through those times. It might be more helpful to concentrate on what is very much a question of our time: the need, real or imagined, to apportion blame, to make someone pay for wrongs done. The enormities of the Pol Pot regime and the Lockerbie bomber spring to mind, and the debate about how justice should be served. No one is arguing that wrong-doing should go unpunished, it's more a question of deciding what is appropriate punishment, what other factors should be taken into account beyond the establishment of guilt.
It may sound lame, but maybe we should just concentrate on trying to keep society safe now, leaving the evils of the past to God. "Vengeance is mine, says the Lord." It is better left to his hands than ours.
Niceness
24/August/2010
Yesterday's announcement that the British people are leading the way in giving aid to Pakistan cheered me up no end. We hear so much about what is wrong with us, what is bad in society in general, that the thought of people quietly getting on with helping others, despite tightened belts at home, is really nice.
Niceness is undervalued today. It's partly the fault of its being a forbidden word ("the use of 'nice' in English composition is indicative of poverty of thought and imagination" according to my English mistress, aeons ago). Au contraire, niceness is to be applauded. It's niceness, rather than virtue, that allows us to bear with all sorts of disagreeable things and people and others to bear with us. Niceness isn't particularly brave and never draws attention to itself, but it is kind and thoughtful, in a quiet, unemphatic way. It is a quality without elbows, so to say, because it doesn't push itself forward or others out of the way. It has time for children, old people and dogs; for those "little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love".
Niceness will never be the equal of faith, hope or charity; but I'm glad there are so many nice people in the world, aren't you?
Niceness is undervalued today. It's partly the fault of its being a forbidden word ("the use of 'nice' in English composition is indicative of poverty of thought and imagination" according to my English mistress, aeons ago). Au contraire, niceness is to be applauded. It's niceness, rather than virtue, that allows us to bear with all sorts of disagreeable things and people and others to bear with us. Niceness isn't particularly brave and never draws attention to itself, but it is kind and thoughtful, in a quiet, unemphatic way. It is a quality without elbows, so to say, because it doesn't push itself forward or others out of the way. It has time for children, old people and dogs; for those "little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love".
Niceness will never be the equal of faith, hope or charity; but I'm glad there are so many nice people in the world, aren't you?
Duncan Speaks
23/August/2010
I am Duncan (short for Dunk'n Disorderly), the monastery dog. It's not too bad, being the only man about the place. I'm very quiet and well-mannered and I quite like joining them at prayer-times, only their singing sometimes gets on my nerves and I hide behind the lectern while they get on with things. They don't allow me in for Mass, which must be very special and wonderful, but I have plans to sneak in one day and surprise them.
I get taken for walks on the Downs, which are lovely; and I get two meals a day and a reasonable number of tummy tickles. I like that they get up early because it means I get an extra three hours in bed with nothing to disturb me. I think my basket is softer than theirs, but I haven't tried any of theirs out yet.
On the whole, I think monastic life is perfect for a dog. I am very happy, and when I want to show it I race around with my ears flapping like Snoopy's. I suppose my ears are a bit like their veils, which also flap when they run. They are very keen on God, which, as I often tell them, is dog spelled backwards. They have a lot to learn but I am doing my best to teach them.
'Bye for now, Duncan xxx.
Clean Vessels
22/August/2010
Today's first reading at Mass, from the prophet Isaiah, contains a phrase that bears much thinking about. What does it mean to be a "clean vessel"? For a long time I used to think in terms of Jewish ritual purity, then in terms of moral uprightness, freedom from sin. Clearly, all those ideas are legitimate and worth pondering, but doing the washing-up this morning made me think again, and the thought is so obvious that I hesitate to put it before you.
A clean vessel is one that has been washed, of course, but also one that is empty, waiting to receive that which it is meant to contain. You don't call a full cup "clean" (although one trusts it was clean when you filled it) you only call an empty cup "clean". Isn't that how we all go to prayer, empty, waiting to be filled?
It's an aspect of the openness we talk about in this week's prayer podcast: being open to others, open to the Holy Spirit. It requires effort on our part but it's an effort worth making: to be filled with the utter fullness of God.
A clean vessel is one that has been washed, of course, but also one that is empty, waiting to receive that which it is meant to contain. You don't call a full cup "clean" (although one trusts it was clean when you filled it) you only call an empty cup "clean". Isn't that how we all go to prayer, empty, waiting to be filled?
It's an aspect of the openness we talk about in this week's prayer podcast: being open to others, open to the Holy Spirit. It requires effort on our part but it's an effort worth making: to be filled with the utter fullness of God.
Catholic Heritage
21/August/2010
The feast of St Pius X is a good day on which to think about Catholic heritage. The news that the Stanbrook Abbey, Worcester, site has finally been sold has been greeted here with a mixture of joy and sadness: joy that the buildings will no longer stand empty, slowly deteriorating; sadness that a great and beautiful part of our Catholic heritage is now passing into secular hands.
We know as well as any that buildings are not the only, nor even the principal, constituent of any heritage; but it is silly to pretend that they don't matter. They do, supremely. They provide the setting for most of our activities and can have a huge influence on how we act. They express what we believe and what we value. That's one of the reasons why Benedictines throughout the ages have struggled to build something beautiful for God. It is no accident that their most beautiful building, the one on which most care and attention is lavished, is the community's place of prayer, the church.
Here at Hendred our oratory is very simple but we have done our best to make it a fit place for prayer. Whenever we have managed to save a little, we have added something: a vestment, a new set of psalters, some especially fine incense. The altar linen (made by D. Teresa) is always immaculate: the first and best flowers from the garden are always placed before the altar. Why? Because of what happens in the oratory and the One who dwells there. Prayer is the fundamental constituent of our Catholic heritage, that for which our art and architecture were designed.
Pius X understood this very well. His desire to renew the Church through renewal of the liturgy encompassed all the arts, including music. As Benedictines, we love singing the chant which takes us back to the first ages of the Church and brings us close to the synagogue music of Jesus' day. It is heartening that many are rediscovering this part of our heritage; heartening, too, that many are thinking seriously about liturgy; but there are other things which are not so encouraging.
We are losing familiarity with some aspects of our heritage and thereby cutting ourselves off from some of the history which has helped shape and form us. Of course the Church must grow and change; inevitably there will be loss as well as gain; but the rate at which we are losing our buildings in this country must give us pause. Are we slowly but surely losing something we shall live to regret?
(The photo shows Statio before Vespers at Stanbrook Abbey, Worcester, January 2001: a few minutes of recollection before entering choir to sing the praises of God.)
St Bernard my Hero
20/August/2010
It was reading St Bernard as "background" for my Ph.D. research that made me realise monastic life was for me. Yes, he has his difficult side: preaching crusades, hostility towards Abelard and some nasty little remarks when he was angry (Bernard could do anger in a big way so there's hope for the most choleric of us). He also has his syrupy side: the sermons on the Song of Songs contain many beautiful passages but can be cloying read in sequence. He could write like an angel and was apparently irresistible when speaking in person, but many villains in history have had similar gifts. Fortunately, Bernard was never anti-semitic and was a defender of Jews at a time when that was not very common. He was, in short, an interesting man, shot full of flaws which grace redeemed, rather as carbon remains carbon still even when it takes the form of diamond.
So, why the hero worship? Simply this: there isn't a line in Bernard that doesn't speak of ardent faith, zeal for souls and desire for God. Who wouldn't want to emulate that?
So, why the hero worship? Simply this: there isn't a line in Bernard that doesn't speak of ardent faith, zeal for souls and desire for God. Who wouldn't want to emulate that?
A Way with Words
19/August/2010
First the good news: the English language has been enriched by another 2,000 words according to the latest edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. For sad types like Digtalnun, this is quite enthralling, especially as she thinks nuns invented the concept behind one of the newcomers, "staycation". Scrabble this Christmas should be a little tougher, and that is all to the good.
Now for the not-so-good news. Catholic Care, a Leeds-based adoption charity, applied to the Charity Commission for exemption from the new anti-discrimination laws so that it could continue to place children for adoption in accordance with Catholic teaching. (Other Catholic adoption agencies have either closed or severed their links with the Church so it was something of a "test case"). Not surprisingly, the Charity Commission threw the request out. For some of us that is troubling in itself because we genuinely believe that the best environment for children to grow up in is a family with a mother and father. That doesn't mean we're homophobic: it just means that we think this gives children the best start in life. Equally troubling is the way in which the BBC is reporting the news, http://bbc.in/bnx0Lb.
Note the first paragraph in bold print:
"A Roman Catholic adoption charity's appeal to be allowed to discriminate against gay people wanting it to place children with them has been rejected."
I don't know, but I think it most unlikely that Catholic Care asked to be allowed to discriminate against gay people. The second paragraph is probably nearer the truth:
"Catholic Care wants exemption from new anti-discrimination laws so it can comply with Church teaching ruling out homosexual couples as adoptive parents."
So why not say that? Could the BBC be biased? Is there someone with an agenda against Catholicism? Words really do matter, and opinion-makers like the BBC have a special responsibility to choose their words with care.
Now for the not-so-good news. Catholic Care, a Leeds-based adoption charity, applied to the Charity Commission for exemption from the new anti-discrimination laws so that it could continue to place children for adoption in accordance with Catholic teaching. (Other Catholic adoption agencies have either closed or severed their links with the Church so it was something of a "test case"). Not surprisingly, the Charity Commission threw the request out. For some of us that is troubling in itself because we genuinely believe that the best environment for children to grow up in is a family with a mother and father. That doesn't mean we're homophobic: it just means that we think this gives children the best start in life. Equally troubling is the way in which the BBC is reporting the news, http://bbc.in/bnx0Lb.
Note the first paragraph in bold print:
"A Roman Catholic adoption charity's appeal to be allowed to discriminate against gay people wanting it to place children with them has been rejected."
I don't know, but I think it most unlikely that Catholic Care asked to be allowed to discriminate against gay people. The second paragraph is probably nearer the truth:
"Catholic Care wants exemption from new anti-discrimination laws so it can comply with Church teaching ruling out homosexual couples as adoptive parents."
So why not say that? Could the BBC be biased? Is there someone with an agenda against Catholicism? Words really do matter, and opinion-makers like the BBC have a special responsibility to choose their words with care.
Floods in Pakistan
18/August/2010
It's an odd world. Like most Christians, we have been praying for the people of Pakistan and sending what we can to help the relief effort. We know there's a risk that our contributions will end up in the pockets of corrupt officials, but that's a risk we are prepared to take. To stand by and do nothing is unthinkable. By and large, the media is uninterested in this side of Christianity and would much rather concentrate on its own myths. So, we are being treated to endless vapid and often hostile comment on the papal visit, Catholic "hypocrisy" and so on and so forth. We are, apparently, the blackest villains ever to walk this earth and the only way to deal with us is either to hurl insults or laugh at us. Don't take us seriously, whatever you do.
We are not immune here in the monastery. During the past seven days we have been asked to allow TV cameras in to do a "feature" linking up with Sister Act (politely refused); a woman's magazine has also asked to do a "feature", this time on "a nun who has previously been married or had a career" (we all had careers before entering, what is newsworthy about that? Another polite refusal); and one of those obscure TV companies which seem to operate out of a PO box somewhere in north London has offered us "the opportunity" of taking part in one of its game shows (guess our answer?)
Trivialising religion is a bit like trivialising the devil: a very dangerous mistake. It may not have crossed some people's minds, but take away the Christian impetus to charity and service and you will be left with a much bleaker, less humane society. We have it on the authority of the Master that our neighbour is anyone in need; and that means anyone, not just people we would like to help or those we feel some bond with. Thus, when we pray for the people of Pakistan we pray with the intensity and urgency we pray for what is most dear to us; when we contribute to the relief effort, we do so with the open-handedness we contribute to any other cause we value . . . We do, don't we?
We are not immune here in the monastery. During the past seven days we have been asked to allow TV cameras in to do a "feature" linking up with Sister Act (politely refused); a woman's magazine has also asked to do a "feature", this time on "a nun who has previously been married or had a career" (we all had careers before entering, what is newsworthy about that? Another polite refusal); and one of those obscure TV companies which seem to operate out of a PO box somewhere in north London has offered us "the opportunity" of taking part in one of its game shows (guess our answer?)
Trivialising religion is a bit like trivialising the devil: a very dangerous mistake. It may not have crossed some people's minds, but take away the Christian impetus to charity and service and you will be left with a much bleaker, less humane society. We have it on the authority of the Master that our neighbour is anyone in need; and that means anyone, not just people we would like to help or those we feel some bond with. Thus, when we pray for the people of Pakistan we pray with the intensity and urgency we pray for what is most dear to us; when we contribute to the relief effort, we do so with the open-handedness we contribute to any other cause we value . . . We do, don't we?
D. Gertrude More
17/August/2010
On this day in 1633, at the early age of twenty-eight, died D. Gertrude More, great-great granddaughter of Sir Thomas More and one of the nine founding members of the community at Cambrai. Her story is an interesting one because she is exactly the kind of person who ought to become a nun but who is often dissuaded from doing so by people outside the cloister because she is "too lively". She was indeed lively and high-spirited, but the liveliness and high-spiritedness were accompanied by a truthfulness and seriousness of purpose that were a measure of her intellectual and spiritual stature.
Her novitiate was not without its ups and downs. She was forever flaunting authority. Any mischief tended to have young Sr Gertrude at its centre, and she definitely took against the solemn Fr Augustine Baker who came as Vicarius to help the young community grow in prayer. In fact, she was strongly tempted to abandon monastic life altogether but Fr Augustine showed her how to pray; a conversion followed and the rest, as they say, is history. Her holiness of life made an impression on those who knew her and today she is revered as one of the community's uncanonised saints. Fr Augustine wrote a life of her in two volumes, with copious quotations from her own writing, including her far too fluent doggerel. If you are interested, you can read it online here: http://bit.ly/aklx3h.
D. Gertrude More is an inspiration to every Benedictine nun. Her devotion to contemplative prayer, her valour in maintaining the validity of the community's approach despite much opposition from some of the monks, her support of her abbess and her immense charity make her very attractive. May she pray for us all.
Her novitiate was not without its ups and downs. She was forever flaunting authority. Any mischief tended to have young Sr Gertrude at its centre, and she definitely took against the solemn Fr Augustine Baker who came as Vicarius to help the young community grow in prayer. In fact, she was strongly tempted to abandon monastic life altogether but Fr Augustine showed her how to pray; a conversion followed and the rest, as they say, is history. Her holiness of life made an impression on those who knew her and today she is revered as one of the community's uncanonised saints. Fr Augustine wrote a life of her in two volumes, with copious quotations from her own writing, including her far too fluent doggerel. If you are interested, you can read it online here: http://bit.ly/aklx3h.
D. Gertrude More is an inspiration to every Benedictine nun. Her devotion to contemplative prayer, her valour in maintaining the validity of the community's approach despite much opposition from some of the monks, her support of her abbess and her immense charity make her very attractive. May she pray for us all.
The Birmingham Oratory
16/August/2010
Recently the blogosphere has been awash with comment on events at the Birmingham Oratory, most notably the removal of Fr Philip Cleevely, Fr Dermot Fenlon and Br Lewis Berry for an indefinite period of prayer and reflection at various monasteries in Britain and France. Colophon does not wish to comment on the specifics of the case but will certainly be praying for all concerned, especially the three exiles, of whom one, Fr Dermot, is remembered with great respect from Cambridge days.
What we do want to comment on, however, is the way in which the Church often deals with "internal disputes" within its religious communities and priestly congregations. It is no secret that we ourselves know something of the pressures which can be brought to bear, especially on those who wish to be loyal and obedient but who do not form a majority/find themselves conscientiously holding views at odds with those of the superior or other members of the community. Sanctions only work if they are applied to people who acknowledge the authority of those applying them and desire to continue as priests, monks, nuns or whatever, despite the injustices or difficulties to which they may be subject. The alternative is what might be called the Milingo approach: shake the dust of the Church from one's feet and do one's own thing (the eccentric and excommunicate former archbishop is now the Ecumenical Catholic Apostolic Church of Peace's patriarch of South Africa).
Internal investigations, by definition, rarely make sense to outsiders but what we know of the Birmingham case makes uncomfortable reading. The sexual abuse of children and vulnerable adults is not the only form of abuse: there can be an abuse of authority in other areas which is countenanced because it is (mistakenly) linked to religious obedience, with the result that people who have done nothing wrong can be made to pay a high price for their integrity. Everyone has a right to their good name, and it would be sad indeed if the Church were to allow any suspicion to attach to those who have committed no sin and broken no law. It is troubling that the three members of the Oratory are left with a cloud hanging over them. One hopes that, like Newman's, it will soon be lifted for ever (though perhaps not by the gift of a cardinal's hat!)
Again, we stress that we have no inside knowledge regarding events in Birmingham and trust that we are not sniffing sulphur where there is none. The fact remains that what has happened and even more the way in which it has happened are disturbing. This is surely a case where Church authority needs to be a little more transparent if it is not to appear harsh and authoritarian. Fifteen hundred years ago Benedict foresaw the need for "neighbouring abbots and Christians" to keep an eye on the local monastery and act promptly if need be (RB 64.6). That means trying to put things right when they go wrong, of course; but it also means standing up for truth and justice in the face of any official desire for "tidy solutions" or "quick fixes". In the language of today, it means that every Christian has a duty of care towards every other member of the Church.
What we do want to comment on, however, is the way in which the Church often deals with "internal disputes" within its religious communities and priestly congregations. It is no secret that we ourselves know something of the pressures which can be brought to bear, especially on those who wish to be loyal and obedient but who do not form a majority/find themselves conscientiously holding views at odds with those of the superior or other members of the community. Sanctions only work if they are applied to people who acknowledge the authority of those applying them and desire to continue as priests, monks, nuns or whatever, despite the injustices or difficulties to which they may be subject. The alternative is what might be called the Milingo approach: shake the dust of the Church from one's feet and do one's own thing (the eccentric and excommunicate former archbishop is now the Ecumenical Catholic Apostolic Church of Peace's patriarch of South Africa).
Internal investigations, by definition, rarely make sense to outsiders but what we know of the Birmingham case makes uncomfortable reading. The sexual abuse of children and vulnerable adults is not the only form of abuse: there can be an abuse of authority in other areas which is countenanced because it is (mistakenly) linked to religious obedience, with the result that people who have done nothing wrong can be made to pay a high price for their integrity. Everyone has a right to their good name, and it would be sad indeed if the Church were to allow any suspicion to attach to those who have committed no sin and broken no law. It is troubling that the three members of the Oratory are left with a cloud hanging over them. One hopes that, like Newman's, it will soon be lifted for ever (though perhaps not by the gift of a cardinal's hat!)
Again, we stress that we have no inside knowledge regarding events in Birmingham and trust that we are not sniffing sulphur where there is none. The fact remains that what has happened and even more the way in which it has happened are disturbing. This is surely a case where Church authority needs to be a little more transparent if it is not to appear harsh and authoritarian. Fifteen hundred years ago Benedict foresaw the need for "neighbouring abbots and Christians" to keep an eye on the local monastery and act promptly if need be (RB 64.6). That means trying to put things right when they go wrong, of course; but it also means standing up for truth and justice in the face of any official desire for "tidy solutions" or "quick fixes". In the language of today, it means that every Christian has a duty of care towards every other member of the Church.
Assumption B.V.M. 2010
15/August/2010
I have discovered the limitations of blogging from an iPod Touch: there's no easy way (that I can see) of uploading an audio file and linking to an audio player - some hard coding is required. That is a pity because I can think of no better way of expressing the hope and joy contained in the Solemnity of the Assumption of Our Lady than by sharing with you the Alleluia for today's Mass. It is one of the loveliest pieces of chant in the Gradual, soaring upwards like the gothic buildings in which it was first sung.
Medieval representations of Our Lady, whether in art, music or poetry, always seem to me to capture her essential strength and simplicity. She was indeed the "mulier fortis", standing by the Cross of Jesus until the end; the virgin full of grace in whom the Lord made his dwelling and whom, after death, he took into heaven to be with him for ever. Where Mary is now, we hope to follow: what an encouraging thought that is.
In Mary, the Mother of God, we have a powerful intercessor in heaven. May she pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Medieval representations of Our Lady, whether in art, music or poetry, always seem to me to capture her essential strength and simplicity. She was indeed the "mulier fortis", standing by the Cross of Jesus until the end; the virgin full of grace in whom the Lord made his dwelling and whom, after death, he took into heaven to be with him for ever. Where Mary is now, we hope to follow: what an encouraging thought that is.
In Mary, the Mother of God, we have a powerful intercessor in heaven. May she pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Novices
11/August/2010
Once again we begin reading Benedict's chapter on the admission of newcomers to the monastery (RB 58), and once again we are made to reflect on the mystery of vocation. Those of us who have professed vows as monks and nuns would be the first to admit that we are novices all our lives, ever learning something new about God and ourselves. We would be the first to acknowledge, too, that the calling to monastic life is one vocation among many: all are called to holiness, to the closest possible union with God, but the way in which each person is called will differ.
Why, then, does my heart sink when someone asks, "How many novices do you have? How many enquirers?" Partly because I don't think of vocations as having much to do with numbers but rather with the gift of self, which cannot be quantified. If I look back over the last five years, I can see that we have spent a lot of time and energy answering vocation enquiries, having people to stay and patiently trying to help them find their way in life. It is a joy to us that we have been able to help one person find her vocation in Carmel, another in marriage; many more have discovered that what they thought was a call to the cloister was actually a call to intensify their life of prayer, and I hope we have been able to help a little with that. One person was so relieved when I told her that I didn't think she had a vocation to monastic life, she practically danced, saying that a great burden had lifted from her shoulders!
God's yoke is light and easy, never burdensome; but assuming it will test one to the core. So, dear reader, if you are toying with the idea of a monastic vocation and rather fancy life in a romantic habit in a wonderful setting, with beautiful liturgy as background and perhaps a little light gardening by way of manual labour, think again.
Here at Hendred we offer not romance but reality: hard work, austere living, financial insecurity, absolute dependence on God. We can promise that you will be tested in ways you never dreamed possible. You will learn things about yourself you would rather not and will struggle to admit. You will discover that your brethren are not saints but sinners, their failings precisely those that make most demands on you. You will discover that the holocaust of self made in the vows is something that has to be renewed daily.
Is it worth it? If you come here to find God, you will indeed do so. If you come seeking anything else, you may perhaps find it, for a while at least, but there comes a point in every monastic life when the soul is stripped bare, so to say, and must seek God and nothing else. Sacrifice isn't popular today, if it ever was, and it is only human to try to escape it. We can all point to monks and nuns who seem to live, on the surface at least, comfortable and even worldly lives with very little of the sacrificial about them.
We don't do "comfortable and worldly" here at Hendred, and please God, we never shall. On the other hand, we do do "joyful". I happen to believe that a monastic vocation is the most amazing gift. Yes, it comes at a price, but what can one give in exchange for life?
Why, then, does my heart sink when someone asks, "How many novices do you have? How many enquirers?" Partly because I don't think of vocations as having much to do with numbers but rather with the gift of self, which cannot be quantified. If I look back over the last five years, I can see that we have spent a lot of time and energy answering vocation enquiries, having people to stay and patiently trying to help them find their way in life. It is a joy to us that we have been able to help one person find her vocation in Carmel, another in marriage; many more have discovered that what they thought was a call to the cloister was actually a call to intensify their life of prayer, and I hope we have been able to help a little with that. One person was so relieved when I told her that I didn't think she had a vocation to monastic life, she practically danced, saying that a great burden had lifted from her shoulders!
God's yoke is light and easy, never burdensome; but assuming it will test one to the core. So, dear reader, if you are toying with the idea of a monastic vocation and rather fancy life in a romantic habit in a wonderful setting, with beautiful liturgy as background and perhaps a little light gardening by way of manual labour, think again.
Here at Hendred we offer not romance but reality: hard work, austere living, financial insecurity, absolute dependence on God. We can promise that you will be tested in ways you never dreamed possible. You will learn things about yourself you would rather not and will struggle to admit. You will discover that your brethren are not saints but sinners, their failings precisely those that make most demands on you. You will discover that the holocaust of self made in the vows is something that has to be renewed daily.
Is it worth it? If you come here to find God, you will indeed do so. If you come seeking anything else, you may perhaps find it, for a while at least, but there comes a point in every monastic life when the soul is stripped bare, so to say, and must seek God and nothing else. Sacrifice isn't popular today, if it ever was, and it is only human to try to escape it. We can all point to monks and nuns who seem to live, on the surface at least, comfortable and even worldly lives with very little of the sacrificial about them.
We don't do "comfortable and worldly" here at Hendred, and please God, we never shall. On the other hand, we do do "joyful". I happen to believe that a monastic vocation is the most amazing gift. Yes, it comes at a price, but what can one give in exchange for life?
St Lawrence 2010
10/August/2010
Long ago and far away: that might be how one thinks of St Lawrence whose martyrdom has assumed mythic status, but there is one aspect of his story which is worth remembering when all thought of his gridiron has dissolved into smiles. Lawrence is a role model for all deacons and church administrators. He saw clearly that the wealth of the Church lies in her children, especially the poor.
Just now we are aware more than ever of the needy in our midst. The suffering of the people in Pakistan, Haiti, so many countries throughout the world, is deeply distressing; but to be honest, one does not need to go far from one's own door to find need. A walk through the streets of Oxford, apparently so rich and civilized, will show you something of the shadow side of our society. The poor are always with us: the materially poor, the emotionally poor and the spiritually poor. It is impossible to try to meet all these needs all the time, but we can do what we can and turn the result over to God. From the States comes a sad but heartening story that illustrates my point.
You may have read about the Benedictine Sisters in Virginia who were killed by a drunken driver as they made their way home to the mother-house for their annual retreat. The community's response has been Christian in every sense: prayer, honesty and forgiveness. The young man who caused the accident is an illegal immigrant who has had at least one similar accident in the past. Some sections of the US press have been baying for his blood. Not so the Sisters. They don't always get a good press from some of the more conservative elements in the Church in the USA (they don't wear habits, for example) but their way of dealing with tragedy has shown that they believe what they teach. Like St Lawrence they have seen Christ in the poor and needy, and the fact that he is not one of those whom it is easy to feel compassion towards is telling. If we are truly to love, it must be with Christ's love, not our own. Otherwise, we make distinctions, set limits, make demands. The Sisters haven't: they have simply asked Christ to come into the heart of the darkness and illumine it as he will. (You can read more of the Sisters' story here, http://bit.ly/apN1cV
Just now we are aware more than ever of the needy in our midst. The suffering of the people in Pakistan, Haiti, so many countries throughout the world, is deeply distressing; but to be honest, one does not need to go far from one's own door to find need. A walk through the streets of Oxford, apparently so rich and civilized, will show you something of the shadow side of our society. The poor are always with us: the materially poor, the emotionally poor and the spiritually poor. It is impossible to try to meet all these needs all the time, but we can do what we can and turn the result over to God. From the States comes a sad but heartening story that illustrates my point.
You may have read about the Benedictine Sisters in Virginia who were killed by a drunken driver as they made their way home to the mother-house for their annual retreat. The community's response has been Christian in every sense: prayer, honesty and forgiveness. The young man who caused the accident is an illegal immigrant who has had at least one similar accident in the past. Some sections of the US press have been baying for his blood. Not so the Sisters. They don't always get a good press from some of the more conservative elements in the Church in the USA (they don't wear habits, for example) but their way of dealing with tragedy has shown that they believe what they teach. Like St Lawrence they have seen Christ in the poor and needy, and the fact that he is not one of those whom it is easy to feel compassion towards is telling. If we are truly to love, it must be with Christ's love, not our own. Otherwise, we make distinctions, set limits, make demands. The Sisters haven't: they have simply asked Christ to come into the heart of the darkness and illumine it as he will. (You can read more of the Sisters' story here, http://bit.ly/apN1cV
St Teresa Benedicta (Edith Stein)
09/August/2010
The August feasts are a remarkable group, including as they do men of such stature as John Vianney, Dominic, Bernard and John the Baptist, but the women seem to me even more remarkable (may St Bernard forgive me). Any month which includes the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the greatest of all Marian feasts, and today's feast of St Teresa Benedicta must be special.
Edith Stein's story is well known and deeply moving. Her pilgrimage of faith from Judaism through agnosticism to Catholicism and life as a Carmelite nun is one she herself recorded. Her death at Auschwitz is necessarily more sketchily drawn but compelling in the details we have. What has always struck me, however, is that she is a perfect example of a "mind taken captive by Christ". We have become so accustomed to people of brilliant intellect sneering at faith and misusing their gifts to wound others that to find someone whose mind was beautiful with the beauty of Christ is inspiring. The fact that the someone in question was a woman is more encouraging still, because all too often, even today, women in the Church are regarded as good for the flowers and coffee rotas but not much else. Nuns, alas, hardly figure, unless they conform to the dread stereotype of what a nun should be (and before I am taken to task for this, let me assure you that I know whereof I speak!) so it is good to find one who breaks the mould, so to say, and comes across as a real person. In St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross we have a saint whose personal flaws and shortcomings were gradually transformed by grace until she herself became an alter Christus. May she pray for us all.
For those who enjoy listening to talks, there are two more on our Talks page: an introduction to the medieval English mystic, Walter Hilton, and a recording of his Parable of the Pilgrim to Jerusalem, probably the best-loved part of his Scale of Perfection. The Digitalnun Daily likewise continues this week although I prophesy that it may fizzle out like Google Wave with the end of the Silly Season.
Edith Stein's story is well known and deeply moving. Her pilgrimage of faith from Judaism through agnosticism to Catholicism and life as a Carmelite nun is one she herself recorded. Her death at Auschwitz is necessarily more sketchily drawn but compelling in the details we have. What has always struck me, however, is that she is a perfect example of a "mind taken captive by Christ". We have become so accustomed to people of brilliant intellect sneering at faith and misusing their gifts to wound others that to find someone whose mind was beautiful with the beauty of Christ is inspiring. The fact that the someone in question was a woman is more encouraging still, because all too often, even today, women in the Church are regarded as good for the flowers and coffee rotas but not much else. Nuns, alas, hardly figure, unless they conform to the dread stereotype of what a nun should be (and before I am taken to task for this, let me assure you that I know whereof I speak!) so it is good to find one who breaks the mould, so to say, and comes across as a real person. In St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross we have a saint whose personal flaws and shortcomings were gradually transformed by grace until she herself became an alter Christus. May she pray for us all.
For those who enjoy listening to talks, there are two more on our Talks page: an introduction to the medieval English mystic, Walter Hilton, and a recording of his Parable of the Pilgrim to Jerusalem, probably the best-loved part of his Scale of Perfection. The Digitalnun Daily likewise continues this week although I prophesy that it may fizzle out like Google Wave with the end of the Silly Season.
Saturday Fun
07/August/2010
I'm not sure how long this is going to last, especially as we don't seem to be able to call it the "Digitalnun Daily", but it may amuse you. It's an interesting take on the blog-and-share idea. Enjoy.
Transfiguration 2010
06/August/2010
This most Benedictine of feasts, the Transfiguration of the Lord, is surely one of the most beautiful in the calendar. It is also one of the most mysterious, using that word in the commonly accepted sense. There is something very strange about the experience Peter, James and John had on the mountain with Jesus, and it is clear from Peter's bumbling and inadequate response that he was baffled and bewildered by it. There are moments in all our lives when we seem to lose touch with reality; when the familiar and certain give way to the new and sometimes incomprehensible. Our usual reaction is to try to make sense of things as we always have. Perhaps this feast is a reminder that God has a way of breaking in upon our comfortable certainties. His vision is so much larger and more wonderful than ours. Who would not wish to be transfigured by it?
Digital Missionaries
05/August/2010
My eye was caught by a brief article in an American journal suggesting that Christians, and more especially Catholics, see the internet as mission territory. Quite apart from the fact that that's the premiss most of us have been working on for years, I was fascinated by some of the concerns the author raised (no names, no pack drill). Like many, he has understood that the internet has changed the way people read. We have become used to gathering information in small chunks, flitting from page to page, link to link, at speed. Debate has become as ill-mannered and sometimes ill-informed as ever it was in the eighteenth century because so much of the comment we find on the web is anonymous. With all this I can agree. When people come to the monastery, one of the first things we have to teach is how to slow down, especially when reading. The art of lectio divina, prayerful reading, requires time: you cannot rush the Holy Spirit. Good manners, concern for the other, are at base, Christian values and have to be deliberately cultivated. As Chesterton remarked, "The grace of God is in courtesy".
So far so good. Where I take issue with the author, however, is with his view that the internet is hostile to prayer. On the contrary, Sir, I think the internet is a great way of fostering prayer. Yes, we can just "waste time", we can be superficial and self-indulgent (the figures for porn-watching are staggering) but we can also be alert to people and events in a way that would not otherwise be possible. It all depends how we integrate our engagement with the internet into our life of prayer. Here we have the custom of praying before we switch on the computer, praying before we respond to anything that drops into our inbox or before engaging in comment or debate (which, to be fair, we do not often do as there are others better qualified than we are), praying when we close down; none of this interferes with or displaces our "times of prayer", because that's where our hearts are, where our treasure is to be found.
It is precisely because of that hidden life of prayer that we engage with the internet at all. I am sure that it is similar for others. In the past missionaries traversed huge tracts of unexplored and often hostile territory to bring the gospel to those who had not heard it. Today we must accept the challenge of the internet and become digital missionaries. I see no contradiction between that and being, for instance, a contemplative nun. Thérèse of Lisieux never stepped outside her Carmel but the Church regards her as one of the greatest missionaries of all time. There's clearly hope for us all. I know it's a bad pun, but perhaps today General Booth would be urging us not to let the devil have all the best iTunes.
So far so good. Where I take issue with the author, however, is with his view that the internet is hostile to prayer. On the contrary, Sir, I think the internet is a great way of fostering prayer. Yes, we can just "waste time", we can be superficial and self-indulgent (the figures for porn-watching are staggering) but we can also be alert to people and events in a way that would not otherwise be possible. It all depends how we integrate our engagement with the internet into our life of prayer. Here we have the custom of praying before we switch on the computer, praying before we respond to anything that drops into our inbox or before engaging in comment or debate (which, to be fair, we do not often do as there are others better qualified than we are), praying when we close down; none of this interferes with or displaces our "times of prayer", because that's where our hearts are, where our treasure is to be found.
It is precisely because of that hidden life of prayer that we engage with the internet at all. I am sure that it is similar for others. In the past missionaries traversed huge tracts of unexplored and often hostile territory to bring the gospel to those who had not heard it. Today we must accept the challenge of the internet and become digital missionaries. I see no contradiction between that and being, for instance, a contemplative nun. Thérèse of Lisieux never stepped outside her Carmel but the Church regards her as one of the greatest missionaries of all time. There's clearly hope for us all. I know it's a bad pun, but perhaps today General Booth would be urging us not to let the devil have all the best iTunes.
Welcoming Christ
04/August/2010
Just as we welcome Christ in the sacred space that is the liturgy, so also we welcome him in the sacred person of the guest. If you have twenty minutes to spare, Digitalnun has posted a talk on Benedictine hospitality which explores some of the relationships between RB 52 and RB 53. (Please scroll to the end for Community Talks.)
A Holy Place
03/August/2010
It is no accident that Benedict's brief guide to how a monk should act outside the monastery is followed by a consideration of the monks' place of prayer. RB 52 is one of the most poetic chapters in the Rule, rich in alliteration and strongly rhythmical in construction (good sixth century Latin, not bad classical Latin). Its apparent simplicity belies its profundity. What might be the points Benedict wishes to make?
First, there is the absolute centrality of prayer to monastic life. The oratory is the heart of everything: the place where we come to know God and ourselves. It is therefore to be treated with the utmost reverence. "Nothing else should be done or kept there" (RB 52.1). It should be quiet, still, with no voluntary distractions, somewhere we can pray as a community and as individuals. Our reverence for God must naturally flow over into reverence for others; so anyone who wishes to pray by himself should not be hindered by anything we say or do in this holy place.
But Benedict has something more to say about the nature of prayer itself. There is a kind of recapitulation of what he says in RB 20. The monk praying by himself is to pray easily, "just go in and pray", quietly, "with tears and devotion of heart", and if he won't, he is not to be allowed to remain because he will disturb others. The new element Benedict introduces in this chapter is the assumption that the public, community prayer of the liturgy will lead to private, contemplative prayer afterwards. For many that will seem a little strange. Think of any grand liturgy you have attended, with magnificent ceremonial, orchestral trumpetings from the organ and so on and so forth. Did it end with your falling to your knees, rapt in God? Possibly not; and to be fair, being rapt in God is not the only measure of "good" liturgy. What we are talking about here, however, is monastic liturgy with its particular emphases. The monk's whole life is to be lived in the closest possible union with the Lord Jesus and everything in the monastery is ordered to that end.
Is Benedict's teaching about the oratory therefore for monks and nuns only? I think not. We are all called to holiness. Monks and nuns are monks and nuns because we are a bit weaker than others and need a few more "sensible helps", but even the strong can sometimes learn from the weak.The luxury of a church or chapel in which to pray isn't given to everyone; even a "prayer corner" can be hard to find; but we each of us have the inner sanctuary of the heart to which we must withdraw, as to an inner room, and there seek God, quietly, humbly, sincerely. We can take Benedict's warnings about unacceptable behaviour as reminders that we should keep any personal exuberance in check if it offends others. My pious practice may be anathema to you, just as your British reserve may be crushing to my Latin soul. We have to learn to get along together and not be too prescriptive about how others should be.
Benedict assumes that there will be regularity in our prayer and arranges the "hours" of the liturgy so that they follow one another through the day, providing many opportunities for private prayer, too. For many, that is difficult. Time is at such a premium, but it is generally helfpful to have some formal structure, a way of entering into prayer. Currently, I have difficulty in saying the monastic office (which requires innumerable books) because I have to walk while praying. So, I am using iBreviaryPro, a free application for use on an iPod touch or iPhone and soon for android, too. It is ideal for those who are time-poor or lack the books for the Roman Office. If you do not know it, check it out.
To our secret inner chamber perhaps we should now add a secret way of praying, aided and abetted by a slip of silicon and the wonder of wi-fi.
First, there is the absolute centrality of prayer to monastic life. The oratory is the heart of everything: the place where we come to know God and ourselves. It is therefore to be treated with the utmost reverence. "Nothing else should be done or kept there" (RB 52.1). It should be quiet, still, with no voluntary distractions, somewhere we can pray as a community and as individuals. Our reverence for God must naturally flow over into reverence for others; so anyone who wishes to pray by himself should not be hindered by anything we say or do in this holy place.
But Benedict has something more to say about the nature of prayer itself. There is a kind of recapitulation of what he says in RB 20. The monk praying by himself is to pray easily, "just go in and pray", quietly, "with tears and devotion of heart", and if he won't, he is not to be allowed to remain because he will disturb others. The new element Benedict introduces in this chapter is the assumption that the public, community prayer of the liturgy will lead to private, contemplative prayer afterwards. For many that will seem a little strange. Think of any grand liturgy you have attended, with magnificent ceremonial, orchestral trumpetings from the organ and so on and so forth. Did it end with your falling to your knees, rapt in God? Possibly not; and to be fair, being rapt in God is not the only measure of "good" liturgy. What we are talking about here, however, is monastic liturgy with its particular emphases. The monk's whole life is to be lived in the closest possible union with the Lord Jesus and everything in the monastery is ordered to that end.
Is Benedict's teaching about the oratory therefore for monks and nuns only? I think not. We are all called to holiness. Monks and nuns are monks and nuns because we are a bit weaker than others and need a few more "sensible helps", but even the strong can sometimes learn from the weak.The luxury of a church or chapel in which to pray isn't given to everyone; even a "prayer corner" can be hard to find; but we each of us have the inner sanctuary of the heart to which we must withdraw, as to an inner room, and there seek God, quietly, humbly, sincerely. We can take Benedict's warnings about unacceptable behaviour as reminders that we should keep any personal exuberance in check if it offends others. My pious practice may be anathema to you, just as your British reserve may be crushing to my Latin soul. We have to learn to get along together and not be too prescriptive about how others should be.
Benedict assumes that there will be regularity in our prayer and arranges the "hours" of the liturgy so that they follow one another through the day, providing many opportunities for private prayer, too. For many, that is difficult. Time is at such a premium, but it is generally helfpful to have some formal structure, a way of entering into prayer. Currently, I have difficulty in saying the monastic office (which requires innumerable books) because I have to walk while praying. So, I am using iBreviaryPro, a free application for use on an iPod touch or iPhone and soon for android, too. It is ideal for those who are time-poor or lack the books for the Roman Office. If you do not know it, check it out.
To our secret inner chamber perhaps we should now add a secret way of praying, aided and abetted by a slip of silicon and the wonder of wi-fi.
Mendacious Meals
02/August/2010
Today's short section of the Rule (RB 51) is often passed over with a smile, especially by those who do not belong to a monastic community, yet it contains some important teaching about the nature of community and frankness in our dealings with one another. If you are unfamiliar with the text, you can listen to it in the Prayer Box on our Vocation page.
Why should Benedict say that a monk away from the monastery for the day should not accept an invitation to a meal unless authorized to do so? I can think of three reasons.
First, there is the fact that eating together, table fellowship, is a sign of belonging. A monk who has often to go out on business can become a little detached from his community, can even begin to forget that he is a monk, living a life that is quite secular in its values and preoccupations. That is the complete opposite of the constant mindfulness of God Benedict insists upon and sees the monastery as providing the best conditions for fostering. We all know that little infidelities can mount up and eventually separate us one from another; so the punishment Benedict provides, excommunication, is essentially formal recognition of a process which began with something apparently trivial, our choosing to eat apart from the brethren.
Secondly, a monk sent out of the monastery on business is literally entrusted with the performance of some task or other for the community. It is part of monastic obedience to perform that task exactly as asked. That doesn't mean one can't show initiative, far from it; but it does mean that one doesn't "milk the opportunity" for one's own benefit. The community comes first, and one is expected to discharge one's trust faithfully. If that means some degree of trouble or inconvenience for oneself, tough: see it as an opportunity to bless God and not grumble.
Thirdly, there is the sad fact that monks can be less than honest with their superiors, saying one thing and meaning another or just being "economical with the truth". Benedict will have none of it. He knows that for a community to thrive honesty and straightforwardness are essential. Otherwise, there can be no trust; and how can a community survive when the members have no confidence in one another? The abbot must know what his monks are up to, and if there is a possibility that someone's conduct is undermining the community in any way, he has a duty to act.
Can we take this further and apply Benedict's teaching to life outside the monastery? I think we can. We all have multiple forms of "belonging", some of which require a definite form of commitment on our part. We can become careless and forget that we need to maintain our commitment, sometimes through renouncing good things or pleasant opportunities. At a deeper level, we need to remain honest with ourselves, which can be painful. Truthfulness isn't an easy quality to live with, either in oneself or in community, but we have seen the terrible consequences of the erosion of public confidence in people and institutions and know that we must try to be honest or risk the destruction of all we hold dear.
That unacknowledged meal with friends may look innocent enough, but for the monk at least there is, somewhere in the background, the thought that the record of human sin begins with eating a forbidden fruit and then lying about it.
Why should Benedict say that a monk away from the monastery for the day should not accept an invitation to a meal unless authorized to do so? I can think of three reasons.
First, there is the fact that eating together, table fellowship, is a sign of belonging. A monk who has often to go out on business can become a little detached from his community, can even begin to forget that he is a monk, living a life that is quite secular in its values and preoccupations. That is the complete opposite of the constant mindfulness of God Benedict insists upon and sees the monastery as providing the best conditions for fostering. We all know that little infidelities can mount up and eventually separate us one from another; so the punishment Benedict provides, excommunication, is essentially formal recognition of a process which began with something apparently trivial, our choosing to eat apart from the brethren.
Secondly, a monk sent out of the monastery on business is literally entrusted with the performance of some task or other for the community. It is part of monastic obedience to perform that task exactly as asked. That doesn't mean one can't show initiative, far from it; but it does mean that one doesn't "milk the opportunity" for one's own benefit. The community comes first, and one is expected to discharge one's trust faithfully. If that means some degree of trouble or inconvenience for oneself, tough: see it as an opportunity to bless God and not grumble.
Thirdly, there is the sad fact that monks can be less than honest with their superiors, saying one thing and meaning another or just being "economical with the truth". Benedict will have none of it. He knows that for a community to thrive honesty and straightforwardness are essential. Otherwise, there can be no trust; and how can a community survive when the members have no confidence in one another? The abbot must know what his monks are up to, and if there is a possibility that someone's conduct is undermining the community in any way, he has a duty to act.
Can we take this further and apply Benedict's teaching to life outside the monastery? I think we can. We all have multiple forms of "belonging", some of which require a definite form of commitment on our part. We can become careless and forget that we need to maintain our commitment, sometimes through renouncing good things or pleasant opportunities. At a deeper level, we need to remain honest with ourselves, which can be painful. Truthfulness isn't an easy quality to live with, either in oneself or in community, but we have seen the terrible consequences of the erosion of public confidence in people and institutions and know that we must try to be honest or risk the destruction of all we hold dear.
That unacknowledged meal with friends may look innocent enough, but for the monk at least there is, somewhere in the background, the thought that the record of human sin begins with eating a forbidden fruit and then lying about it.
Limping Along
31/July/2010
Prayers today for all our Jesuit friends, and indeed for the many people who have been very helpful to us as a community during the past couple of weeks. Digitalnun is limited to ten-minute bursts on the computer at present so she has been asked to go away and play with the Handyzoom as there are several talks she has not found time to record yet. We'll post details in the blog as and when she uploads them to our Talks page. Duncan meanwhile has been asked to assume the role of Cerberus (a task for which he is completely unsuitable) but there was some talk of an ipod being used while the Mac is out of bounds, so Colophon may continue much as usual. Perhaps you could "offer it up" or something.
Meanwhile, we take heart from this story from Canada that having the courage to speak about Jesus can stop a robber in his tracks. O si sic omnes: http://bit.ly/bgz0lt
Meanwhile, we take heart from this story from Canada that having the courage to speak about Jesus can stop a robber in his tracks. O si sic omnes: http://bit.ly/bgz0lt
Bare Ruined Choirs
28/July/2010
Yesterday we had to go to Malvern and as we drove past Stanbrook and saw the ivy growing over the enclosure wall, Digitalnun went very quiet for a few moments, thinking sombre thoughts of dissolution and decay and recalling a purple passage or two from Dom David Knowles. Places become precious by association, doubly so when they are also beautiful and have an inspiring history. The thought of that lovely abbey church gathering dust in the silence and stillness of a summer afternoon was painful. Yes, of course, the community goes on, so does the prayer and the praise, but there is that indescribable thing called "atmosphere" which cannot be recreated without a similar striving.
The photo of the choir was snapped by Digitalnun one evening just before Compline. It could have been taken at any time in the past century and a half and to us who knew it gives a vivid sense of what it was like to step into choir before an Office. What it cannot convey is the wonderful acoustic, the result of sound being bounced from the sounding boards above the choir stalls on to the tiles beneath, nor the smell, a mixture of beeswax and incense and, in summer, myriad scents drifting in from the gardens. Still less can it convey to outsiders the real life of the church, the unceasing round of prayer, public and private, from dawn till dusk, day in, day out, which is the mark of Benedictine community. The church at Stanbrook was the crowning-point of Fr Laurence Shepherd's dream of a resurgent Benedictine monasticism for women and he wore himself out in his efforts to raise the money and see the building completed. I rather hope that we have a similar vision here at Hendred and are similarly earnest in our efforts to realise what a Benedictine monastery may and should be in the twenty-first century. If so, the pain of that passing moment may be an inspiration for the future.
The Mary Strand Trust
27/July/2010
Good news for Veilaudio: the Mary Strand Trust has made a generous award to enable us to replace some of our worn-out equipment. This is particularly important because the age profile of blindness and visual impairment is changing slightly. Age-related macular degeneration is still the main cause of blindness in Britain. Most users of Veilaudio are elderly and often rather isolated. It is clear many appreciate the contact with people the audio service provides (some of our lay volunteers are now "Sister" and "Father/Brother" to our library users). However, there are larger numbers of young blind adults who wish to obtain appropriate religious/spiritual reading matter but that isn't easy, unless you don't mind having a text "read" to you by the mechanical voice inside your computer. We are lucky to have a number of excellent volunteer readers, with good voices and an intelligent grasp of what they are reading, and devote some care and thought to the choice of texts. At the moment, Digitalnun is wondering how anyone (no one is owning up to having done so) could have asked one of our most learned readers to record "The Shack" but the results are excellent and no doubt the book will please those who have been longing to hear it. As soon as she is able to climb up to the high places where Veilaudio resides, it will become our book of the month, available on CD only. Please join us in thanking God for the Mary Strand Trust and pray for the trustees and administrators.
Speaking Plainly
23/July/2010
It is a dull, grey morning and we are reading Job at Vigils. Dull and grey outside it may be, but my goodness, there are fireworks in choir! What a magnificent work the Book of Job is. Reading scripture aloud is infinitely more effective than scanning the page silently. No wonder the Church exhorts us always to LISTEN to the readings of the liturgy rather than follow them in books or missalettes. Job is a dramatic text, of course, but even the drearier bits of Leviticus read aloud have an impact that would otherwise be wanting; and if the reader is sensitive enough to drop all idea of being an actor and simply allows the words to speak through her, that impact can be very great indeed. The trouble is, many readers want to improve on the Word of God by inserting themselves into the text; so we have grandiloquent flourishes and hyped up emotion and the result is . . . painful.
I have a notion that the solution to this conundrum is to be found somewhere or somehow in the life of the Lord Jesus. From that first cry at Bethlehem, when the Word of God first found perfect utterance though a human voice, to that last "It is finished", there has been no more reverent expression of God's meaning and purpose. I suppose we all have an interior notion of how Jesus spoke, and we edit out the passages that don't conform to our own ideas. It would be a good Friday exercise to go through one of the gospels and look at the different tones in Jesus' voice: the adolescent certainty with which he answered Mary in the temple; the sharp refutation of Satan in the desert; the commanding invitation to the disciples; the patient explanations; the teasing quality of his exchanges with those he met on the road; his anger with the money-changers in the temple or the hub-bub around Jairus's daughter. One might especially note the way in which he spoke to women since that very often escapes male preachers.
We are ourselves a word spoken by God. Our life's business is to learn how to proclaim the Word of God, and from whom can we learn it if not from Him?
(Domestic note: many thanks for the kind enquiries after Hopalong [a.k.a. Digitalnun]. The antibiotics have begun to check the infection which, as late as Wednesday, was still spreading, but recovery looks like taking longer than we had hoped. The patient is not her usual cheery self and says she will slaughter me if I describe her as being "comfortable". On the other hand, she is grateful not to be in hospital and is managing to do a little work at the computer. Duncan and I are growing in patience by the hour. Infirmarian.)
I have a notion that the solution to this conundrum is to be found somewhere or somehow in the life of the Lord Jesus. From that first cry at Bethlehem, when the Word of God first found perfect utterance though a human voice, to that last "It is finished", there has been no more reverent expression of God's meaning and purpose. I suppose we all have an interior notion of how Jesus spoke, and we edit out the passages that don't conform to our own ideas. It would be a good Friday exercise to go through one of the gospels and look at the different tones in Jesus' voice: the adolescent certainty with which he answered Mary in the temple; the sharp refutation of Satan in the desert; the commanding invitation to the disciples; the patient explanations; the teasing quality of his exchanges with those he met on the road; his anger with the money-changers in the temple or the hub-bub around Jairus's daughter. One might especially note the way in which he spoke to women since that very often escapes male preachers.
We are ourselves a word spoken by God. Our life's business is to learn how to proclaim the Word of God, and from whom can we learn it if not from Him?
(Domestic note: many thanks for the kind enquiries after Hopalong [a.k.a. Digitalnun]. The antibiotics have begun to check the infection which, as late as Wednesday, was still spreading, but recovery looks like taking longer than we had hoped. The patient is not her usual cheery self and says she will slaughter me if I describe her as being "comfortable". On the other hand, she is grateful not to be in hospital and is managing to do a little work at the computer. Duncan and I are growing in patience by the hour. Infirmarian.)
St Mary Magdalene
22/July/2010
I wanted to say something about St Mary Magdalene as the apostle of the Resurrection but my mind is full of the image of Mary as penitent which I have to go and look at every time I am in Valladolid (it was part of the Sacred Made Real Exhibition, see http://bit.ly/bkFvOb). Mary was often treated harshly by writers of previous generations, being seen as a sinner who reformed, but never quite sufficiently. She was a woman with a past. Perhaps it was precisely because she was a forgiven sinner and knew herself to be such that she was entrusted with the news that Christ was risen. Only those who really listen have anything to proclaim.
Meanwhile, in order to help Facebook sign up its 500,000th user, we have begun creating a Facebook page for integration with our new web site (coming like Christmas, did you say?). It is not very ept at the moment, but you ought to be able to see it by using this nice little badge:
Benedictine Nuns, Holy Trinity Monastery
Meanwhile, in order to help Facebook sign up its 500,000th user, we have begun creating a Facebook page for integration with our new web site (coming like Christmas, did you say?). It is not very ept at the moment, but you ought to be able to see it by using this nice little badge:
Benedictine Nuns, Holy Trinity Monastery
Challenges
20/July/2010
Digitalnun is currently having difficulty sitting at the computer. This would be amusing were it not that her ailment is making her less sweet-tempered than usual (= downright crotchety. Ed.) This presents a challenge to all who come to the house. How does one deal with a "moaning minnie" or a "grumpy old gaffer" (not that we are suggesting that Digitalnun fits either category, perish the thought!)? It is not quite the same as confronting prejudice. A fit of the glums, a touch of black dog, or just being inexplicably down in the dumps are experiences we all go through from time to time. We know that they will pass and that there isn't very much we can do to help the afflicted one. We just have to dodge the hissy fits. I think the dog has got it right. He ignores the irritability, throws an occasional eyes-like-melting-caramels look in the direction of the sufferer and keeps well clear when the groans and grimaces become noticeable. There are some things that time and time alone will put right. Maybe that's why patience is described as the fourth Benedictine vow.
Prejudice
17/July/2010
During the past week the Catholic Church has scored a number of own goals. Those of us who have to know canon law will understand why an updated list of grave faults might include both sex abuse cases and the ordination of women. Those who don't won't, but this fact seems to have escaped the Vatican. Sometimes one wonders whether the ineptitude is deliberate. Be that as it may, the media response was predictable, although some of the comments (e.g. the now notorious Tweet by Caitlin Moran) have revealed a vein of anti-Catholic prejudice that would be unacceptable if it were directed elsewhere. Substitute Muslim, black, Jew or gay for Catholic and there would be outrage, rightly so.
The experience should make us think how we handle prejudice, both in ourselves and in others. We pray (or at least I hope we do) to be guided by the Holy Spirit. Provided we don't allow our own interior clamour to drown out his voice, we ought to be confident that God will free us from our prejudices, even if it is the work of a lifetime. Every time we become aware of prejudice in ourselves, we ought to stop and think what we are doing. We don't have to be nasty, do we? How we deal with the prejudice of others is more problematic. We may believe that the only way to meet prejudice is with the gentleness and openness St Paul saw as characteristic of the wisdom given from above, but it is amazing how a red mist can come before the eyes when certain things are said or done! The fact that something is difficult does not make it impossible, however. Refusing to pass the poison on may not seem very heroic, may indeed require a huge struggle against the desire to hit back, but I suspect it is the only way to avoid becoming a shrivelled and shrunken scrap of humanity. The worst thing about prejudice is that it reveals the prejudiced person in all too truthful a light.
The experience should make us think how we handle prejudice, both in ourselves and in others. We pray (or at least I hope we do) to be guided by the Holy Spirit. Provided we don't allow our own interior clamour to drown out his voice, we ought to be confident that God will free us from our prejudices, even if it is the work of a lifetime. Every time we become aware of prejudice in ourselves, we ought to stop and think what we are doing. We don't have to be nasty, do we? How we deal with the prejudice of others is more problematic. We may believe that the only way to meet prejudice is with the gentleness and openness St Paul saw as characteristic of the wisdom given from above, but it is amazing how a red mist can come before the eyes when certain things are said or done! The fact that something is difficult does not make it impossible, however. Refusing to pass the poison on may not seem very heroic, may indeed require a huge struggle against the desire to hit back, but I suspect it is the only way to avoid becoming a shrivelled and shrunken scrap of humanity. The worst thing about prejudice is that it reveals the prejudiced person in all too truthful a light.
Painless Giving
16/July/2010
Before I became a nun one of my great delights was to go "steeple-chasing", the churchy rather than horsey variety. From the grandest of cathedrals to the plainest of meeting houses, I was fascinated both by the buildings themselves and what they revealed about the people who used them. It began with a childish enthusiasm for Gothic which grew with the years to embrace almost everything. I began to see that architectural "mistakes" might have a beauty that had nothing to do with their material construction. I even discovered a fondness for the ugly little Catholic churches squashed into mean back streets which were commoner then than now, the gothic all wrong but the intentions all right: churches built by the urban poor and kept going by innumerable small sacrifices and struggles. To begin with, I was a bit fastidious about the bingo and sweepstake notices pinned at the back, but over time I began to see that one will do almost anything for whom and what one loves. The Catholic obsession with money is not an obsession with money per se: it is an obsession with what money can do for a good cause.
Which brings me to my point. People sometimes ask what they can do to help the monastery, usually prefacing their remarks with the words, "I don't have a lot of money but . . ." Don't worry if you haven't any money. If you use the internet at all you can help us greatly by making use of two services which will cost you nothing but which will bring us a small referral fee.
If you use our easysearch portal do your internet searching, we get something like a penny each time you make a search. Doesn't sound much? In the course of a week, 41 regular users generate anything between 30p and £1.50 for our charitable funds. If we had 400, it would pay for one new audio book for the blind a week. If you do any online shopping, please consider going to your favourite retailers, or finding others, via our easyfundraising portal. About 2000 retailers are now taking part in this scheme. When you use the portal, the referral fee which would normally go to Google or some other search engine is split half and half between easysfundraising and ourselves. You don't pay any more, indeed there are often special discounts and offers for users, but we raise some useful cash - almost £500 to date, which bought a new digital recorder for our work for the visually impaired and paid Veilaudio's telephone bill for the last quarter. Finally, if you don't want to support the monastery but would like to sign up another charity, please consider using our referral link and help two good causes at the same time.
As they say in all good churches, spread the word (and help us spread the Word).
Which brings me to my point. People sometimes ask what they can do to help the monastery, usually prefacing their remarks with the words, "I don't have a lot of money but . . ." Don't worry if you haven't any money. If you use the internet at all you can help us greatly by making use of two services which will cost you nothing but which will bring us a small referral fee.
If you use our easysearch portal do your internet searching, we get something like a penny each time you make a search. Doesn't sound much? In the course of a week, 41 regular users generate anything between 30p and £1.50 for our charitable funds. If we had 400, it would pay for one new audio book for the blind a week. If you do any online shopping, please consider going to your favourite retailers, or finding others, via our easyfundraising portal. About 2000 retailers are now taking part in this scheme. When you use the portal, the referral fee which would normally go to Google or some other search engine is split half and half between easysfundraising and ourselves. You don't pay any more, indeed there are often special discounts and offers for users, but we raise some useful cash - almost £500 to date, which bought a new digital recorder for our work for the visually impaired and paid Veilaudio's telephone bill for the last quarter. Finally, if you don't want to support the monastery but would like to sign up another charity, please consider using our referral link and help two good causes at the same time.
As they say in all good churches, spread the word (and help us spread the Word).
Catholic Bloggers
15/July/2010
The Catholic blogosphere is sometimes an uncomfortable place to be. Colophon is all for strong views and engaging style, but not at the expense of common decency and humanity. I used to think that extreme opinions and the "ya, boo, sucks" style of argument were the preserve of more or less unhinged individuals adding their two pennies' worth to the comments section. Indeed, it was because the comments on some blogs were so awful that we delayed implementing a commenting system here. But the problem is not confined to the comments. A number of blogs are, frankly, a disgrace: ill-informed (but often claiming infallibility in matters of faith and practice), ill-mannered (gloating over the distress of others) and sometimes deeply personal in their attacks. Others are less crude but still leave one with an unpleasant sense that the writers are not people one would wish to spend much time in purgatory with. This has been especially noticeable during the past few weeks when the troubles affecting our Anglican friends have been picked over in some detail.
So what makes a Catholic blog? Not, I would suggest, a plethora of repository art splashed all over the page, nor a load of paypal and other buttons inviting one to support the blogger by a donation; not loud proclamations of fidelity to the Magisterium or "the Traditional Church"; nor extravagant claims to being "progressive" or "forward-thinking". (Note for the confused: the Catholic Church is Traditional and she is One, and it is generally wiser to follow rather than go ahead of the Holy Spirit; but that's just my opinion, of course.)
I think the marks of a Catholic blog are simple: a sound grasp of Catholic teaching (those who seek to inform others should first inform themselves), a certain modesty or restraint about the rightness of one's own views, courtesy in argument (St Francis de Sales had an enviable reputation for being gracious towards his opponents: he would have made a wonderful blogger) and a scrupulous avoidance of anything that might detract from the reputation of others. This last is frequently overlooked, but it is an important caution. In a world where communication is instant, we can sin grievously by a hasty statement or comment that injures another. (Take a look at Twitter or Facebook if you disbelieve me.) Finally, I would suggest that those of us who are Catholic bloggers should remember what St Benedict says about praying before we begin any good work. Praying before we hit the keyboard won't necessarily improve our blogging, but it may improve us.
So what makes a Catholic blog? Not, I would suggest, a plethora of repository art splashed all over the page, nor a load of paypal and other buttons inviting one to support the blogger by a donation; not loud proclamations of fidelity to the Magisterium or "the Traditional Church"; nor extravagant claims to being "progressive" or "forward-thinking". (Note for the confused: the Catholic Church is Traditional and she is One, and it is generally wiser to follow rather than go ahead of the Holy Spirit; but that's just my opinion, of course.)
I think the marks of a Catholic blog are simple: a sound grasp of Catholic teaching (those who seek to inform others should first inform themselves), a certain modesty or restraint about the rightness of one's own views, courtesy in argument (St Francis de Sales had an enviable reputation for being gracious towards his opponents: he would have made a wonderful blogger) and a scrupulous avoidance of anything that might detract from the reputation of others. This last is frequently overlooked, but it is an important caution. In a world where communication is instant, we can sin grievously by a hasty statement or comment that injures another. (Take a look at Twitter or Facebook if you disbelieve me.) Finally, I would suggest that those of us who are Catholic bloggers should remember what St Benedict says about praying before we begin any good work. Praying before we hit the keyboard won't necessarily improve our blogging, but it may improve us.
Kitchen Service
13/July/2010
Benedict's chapter on kitchen service (RB 35, begun today) is often overlooked, especially by those who rarely, if ever, have to do any serious cooking, but it is effectively a treatise on the nature of community. Everyone is involved, unless there is some matter so important that an individual needs to be excused for a time. Those who are less strong are to be given help so that they too may serve. The flip side of this is that those who serve are in turn served; and one of the most beautiful aspects of monastic meals is the way in which all, from the youngest to the oldest, receive as well as give. As St Benedict remarks, such service "secures a richer reward and greater love".
The ritualisation of meals in a monastery is not stiff and formal. At its best it provides a domestic liturgy in which we thank God for the gifts given us and use eating and drinking to prepare for and recall the celebration of the Eucharist. The detail matters. We do not usually nowadays wash one another's feet, but the threefold blessings, the care taken to ensure that everything used at table is spotless, the silence, the reading, above all the fact that the meal is shared are a sign that what we are and do as a community is reinforced by our companionship, our breaking bread together.
It is just as well that Benedict had such a high ideal of kitchen service. Many a youthful monastic vocation has ended in the scullery where the "life of prayer" takes on a very muscular dimension. As a reality check, it is second to none. If we would see Christ in the liturgy, in the swirls of incense and the beauty of the chant, we must also see him in the kitchen amidst the baking trays and the brillo pads. Now, just remind me of that when I come to cook dinner today, please.
The ritualisation of meals in a monastery is not stiff and formal. At its best it provides a domestic liturgy in which we thank God for the gifts given us and use eating and drinking to prepare for and recall the celebration of the Eucharist. The detail matters. We do not usually nowadays wash one another's feet, but the threefold blessings, the care taken to ensure that everything used at table is spotless, the silence, the reading, above all the fact that the meal is shared are a sign that what we are and do as a community is reinforced by our companionship, our breaking bread together.
It is just as well that Benedict had such a high ideal of kitchen service. Many a youthful monastic vocation has ended in the scullery where the "life of prayer" takes on a very muscular dimension. As a reality check, it is second to none. If we would see Christ in the liturgy, in the swirls of incense and the beauty of the chant, we must also see him in the kitchen amidst the baking trays and the brillo pads. Now, just remind me of that when I come to cook dinner today, please.
Twilight
12/July/2010
Summer seems to be slipping away already. It was dark when I got up this morning, but the darkness soon gave way to that thin grey light which heralds dawn. I suppose it is symbolic of life itself. Some of our lives are lived in sunshine, some in shadow; but there is a lot of twilight existence, where nothing very much happens, or what does is not particularly happy or attractive, and we don't see very clearly the way ahead. It may sound sickeningly pious, but I couldn't help remembering that it was at this twilight hour, "very early, before the sun had yet risen" that the Church, in the person of Mary Magdalene, experienced the Resurrection.
A Feast that is Not
11/July/2010
Benedictines keep the Transitus on 21 March as the "big" feast of St Benedict; that of 11 July is much more low-key, so low-key this year that it isn't happening at all (Sunday takes precedence). It is therefore something of a dies non, which seems to fit the mood of the moment: a day for reflection and prayer following yesterday's decision in York. We trust our Anglican friends will know that we hold ALL of them in prayer, whatever their position.
So, how does one "celebrate" a non-feast? The liturgy of Sunday is fairly grand in itself, although we shall miss Solemn Vespers. Our Customary obliges us to more prayer and reading than on ordinary days (not a hardship) and less work (define). I suspect that the major change will be in the refectory. Dinner will be a trifle more festive. We have drawn off some of our homemade orange wine (star-bright, and nice and dry, for those who wonder) and we shall allow ourselves a little extra conversation, in accordance with monastic practice (our way of life is largely silent). It does not amount to very much, but life is made up of little things. It isn't only the devil that is in the detail. Sometimes you find the rejoicing there, too.
I forgot to post our podcast earlier but it is there now. The most recent 19 can be found on Talkshoe, earlier ones on the archive page. Soon they will all be in one place.
So, how does one "celebrate" a non-feast? The liturgy of Sunday is fairly grand in itself, although we shall miss Solemn Vespers. Our Customary obliges us to more prayer and reading than on ordinary days (not a hardship) and less work (define). I suspect that the major change will be in the refectory. Dinner will be a trifle more festive. We have drawn off some of our homemade orange wine (star-bright, and nice and dry, for those who wonder) and we shall allow ourselves a little extra conversation, in accordance with monastic practice (our way of life is largely silent). It does not amount to very much, but life is made up of little things. It isn't only the devil that is in the detail. Sometimes you find the rejoicing there, too.
I forgot to post our podcast earlier but it is there now. The most recent 19 can be found on Talkshoe, earlier ones on the archive page. Soon they will all be in one place.
Cooling Off
10/July/2010
(Note: Duncan thinks we need some dog-talk occasionally as well as all this God-talk. Ed.).I've dug this nice little hole in your garden and I'm not coming out till it's cooler!
Pray for our Friends
09/July/2010
The July session of the General Synod of the Church of England begins today, and every Catholic ought to be praying for the participants. One of the questions to be debated concerns women bishops and if past discussion is anything to go by, there is a possibility of further division and pain whatever Synod decides. To a sympathetic outsider, it looks as though there can be no winners but only losers. The media are not helping with their talk of "easy conversion to Roman Catholicism" for those who reject the idea of women bishops.
Colophon is not to going to be drawn on this question, but there is one point that is worth making. Becoming a Catholic is not just one option among many for people of faith. One becomes a Catholic - converts - as one becomes an Anglican or a Methodist or anything else, because one is convinced, because one can do no other. Conversion is never easy. It is not a question of adopting certain practices or changing "ecclesiastical club". It requires whole-hearted assent, acceptance of risk, readiness to set out into the unknown. It can never proceed from a negative. It is therefore wrong to suggest that it is a "solution" to the difficulty some find themselves in; nor should we forget that others hold different opinions equally sincerely; their consciences must be respected, and the consequences for them must also be weighed. Whatever is decided, the Church of England is about to change quite dramatically; and that will affect all the Christian churches in this country.
Let us pray for the Synod, for wisdom and charity in the discussions and for an outcome that is pleasing to God.
Colophon is not to going to be drawn on this question, but there is one point that is worth making. Becoming a Catholic is not just one option among many for people of faith. One becomes a Catholic - converts - as one becomes an Anglican or a Methodist or anything else, because one is convinced, because one can do no other. Conversion is never easy. It is not a question of adopting certain practices or changing "ecclesiastical club". It requires whole-hearted assent, acceptance of risk, readiness to set out into the unknown. It can never proceed from a negative. It is therefore wrong to suggest that it is a "solution" to the difficulty some find themselves in; nor should we forget that others hold different opinions equally sincerely; their consciences must be respected, and the consequences for them must also be weighed. Whatever is decided, the Church of England is about to change quite dramatically; and that will affect all the Christian churches in this country.
Let us pray for the Synod, for wisdom and charity in the discussions and for an outcome that is pleasing to God.
Reverence
07/July/2010
Where liturgy is concerned, it can be hard to be both a woman and a student of history. As we all know, there is a growing debate in England about the reception of holy Communion: should we receive on the tongue or in the hand? (For legislation and instructions see Memoriale Domini [AAS 61 (1969), pp. 541-547] and Immensae caritatis [AAS 65 (1973) 264-271]. Approval for Communion in the hand was given for England and Wales in 1976). I have been following this debate for some time, with a growing sense of unease. Ignorance and exaggeration (on both sides) does not make for clarity. Indeed, it often leads to an irreverence which was surely never intended but which is in danger of obscuring the sacredness of that which we are discussing.
It was the practice of the early Church to receive Communion in the hand (there was quite a complicated ritual of sacring the eyes with the Host which no one, as far as I know, has ever wanted to revive). In the course of time, it became the practice in the west to receive the Host on the tongue and to reserve the Precious Blood to the clergy. Reception under both kinds, usually with reception of the Host in the hand, has been the experience of most English Catholics since the 1970s. The wider use of the Extraordinary Form of the Mass has led to renewed discussion about how the laity should receive Communion. Instead of considering whether some criticisms of present practice are valid, there has been a tendency to adopt extreme positions. Perhaps we need to remind ourselves that holy Communion is the Sacrament of unity and should be approached with the utmost reverence. How that reverence is to be expressed externally is more difficult to decide.
I myself am perfectly happy to receive Communion in any way the Church allows. As a community, it is our practice to follow the custom of those with whom we are worshipping (provided it is licit, of course) So, at the parish Mass we receive standing and in the hand. The only difference is that we make a profound bow before receiving. It is a valid criticism that many who receive standing and in the hand omit the genuflection or bow the bishops envisaged we would make before approaching the altar. When we are with a community that is using the Extraordinary Form, we kneel and receive on the tongue. I trust that our exterior disposition matches the interior disposition of our hearts and minds.
So, what is the problem? Apart from the rudeness this debate seems to induce in some who are otherwise polite and well-intentioned, there is the fact that the manner of receiving Communion is often used as a peg on which to hang other and more doubtful arguments. It is troubling to find people discussing the Mass as though it were the preserve of men only, questioning whether women should be allowed to receive Communion with heads uncovered or read or perform any other service during the liturgy. It also troubling to find people talking about the Mass as though the role of the priest were merely incidental and the laity could decide all.
Rome and our own Bishops' Conference will decide how we are to receive holy Communion but we shall have to work out for ourselves how to answer the other questions the debate has raised. As a Benedictine, I take heart from a principle the Rule enunciates again and again. Reverence is something we owe to everyone and everything. You cannot break that sentence in half. You cannot revere God if you are dismissive of people or casual about material things; you cannot truly revere people or things if you do not revere their Creator.
It was the practice of the early Church to receive Communion in the hand (there was quite a complicated ritual of sacring the eyes with the Host which no one, as far as I know, has ever wanted to revive). In the course of time, it became the practice in the west to receive the Host on the tongue and to reserve the Precious Blood to the clergy. Reception under both kinds, usually with reception of the Host in the hand, has been the experience of most English Catholics since the 1970s. The wider use of the Extraordinary Form of the Mass has led to renewed discussion about how the laity should receive Communion. Instead of considering whether some criticisms of present practice are valid, there has been a tendency to adopt extreme positions. Perhaps we need to remind ourselves that holy Communion is the Sacrament of unity and should be approached with the utmost reverence. How that reverence is to be expressed externally is more difficult to decide.
I myself am perfectly happy to receive Communion in any way the Church allows. As a community, it is our practice to follow the custom of those with whom we are worshipping (provided it is licit, of course) So, at the parish Mass we receive standing and in the hand. The only difference is that we make a profound bow before receiving. It is a valid criticism that many who receive standing and in the hand omit the genuflection or bow the bishops envisaged we would make before approaching the altar. When we are with a community that is using the Extraordinary Form, we kneel and receive on the tongue. I trust that our exterior disposition matches the interior disposition of our hearts and minds.
So, what is the problem? Apart from the rudeness this debate seems to induce in some who are otherwise polite and well-intentioned, there is the fact that the manner of receiving Communion is often used as a peg on which to hang other and more doubtful arguments. It is troubling to find people discussing the Mass as though it were the preserve of men only, questioning whether women should be allowed to receive Communion with heads uncovered or read or perform any other service during the liturgy. It also troubling to find people talking about the Mass as though the role of the priest were merely incidental and the laity could decide all.
Rome and our own Bishops' Conference will decide how we are to receive holy Communion but we shall have to work out for ourselves how to answer the other questions the debate has raised. As a Benedictine, I take heart from a principle the Rule enunciates again and again. Reverence is something we owe to everyone and everything. You cannot break that sentence in half. You cannot revere God if you are dismissive of people or casual about material things; you cannot truly revere people or things if you do not revere their Creator.
In Context
06/July/2010
Looking at today's section of the Rule (RB 30, which you can listen to here), I could not help thinking that Benedict nowadays would be accused of abuse. Readers of Colophon know that we are deeply grieved by what we have learned in recent years about abuse perpetrated by Catholics and that we have no truck with cover-ups or attempts to pretend that it is anything other than evil. However, anyone with an ounce of historical awareness must surely realise that our understanding of childhood and what constitutes abuse has changed over time. The sexual abuse of children never has been and never could be acceptable; but "corporal punishment" takes us into a grey area. In Benedict's day, a box on the ears or a slap or a wallop was obviously perfectly acceptable, as it was in society generally until comparatively recently. It would not be so today; but in our anxiety to rid the Church of the evil of abuse, I have sometimes wondered whether we are in danger of treating everything as equally important; which means, of course, that everything is equally unimportant. Personally, I hate the idea of hitting anyone, but I am also made uncomfortable by the way in which some elderly priests and religious are being attacked for having sometimes slapped their pupils at a time when society did not condemn such practices. It reminds me that prayer for right judgement is never out of fashion.
Vocation Shortage?
05/July/2010
From 2 to 4 July Oscott College was the venue for inVocation: an opportunity for young adults to meet priests and religious from many different traditions and think, pray and reflect about where God may be leading them. The event was well publicized and featured some high-profile key speakers and workshop leaders. We kept an eye on the dedicated web site and Facebook page (apparently no tweeting except on an informal basis) while we kept all the participants in prayer. Now the real work begins, when those who attended do their best to respond to the promptings of the Spirit.
So far so good. Yesterday evening we provided the schola for the Mass at Milton and for the FIRST TIME IN NEARLY TWO YEARS we heard a priest speak in his Sunday homily about the importance of vocations to the priesthood and religious life. Now don't get me wrong: those who know our community will know that we have a keen sense of the importance of every vocation in the Church, lay, clerical and religious, and that we don't associate the word "vocation" with any particular way of following Christ. There are as many vocations as there are Christians. No, the problem is this: if we really believe that Mass and the Sacraments matter; if we really believe that preaching the Gospel matters; if we really believe that prayer matters, why are we not doing more to foster vocations to the priesthood and religious life? Why are our priests so reluctant to talk about vocation? So often all we get is a grumble about how hard it is to be a priest. Of course it is hard to be a priest. It is also hard to be a husband or father, a wife or mother, a single person, a sister, a monk, a nun; it is hard to be widowed, separated, divorced. It is also a great grace, because to be whatever we are called to be is the only way in which we can truly respond to God.
It worries me that we are so namby-pamby about vocation. I don't believe that God has ceased to call people, nor do I believe that people are any less brave or generous than in the past. I suspect that the problem is the much more fundamental one of lack of faith. Perhaps that is what we should be looking at rather than lamenting the shortage of vocations. As they say in exam questions, Discuss.
So far so good. Yesterday evening we provided the schola for the Mass at Milton and for the FIRST TIME IN NEARLY TWO YEARS we heard a priest speak in his Sunday homily about the importance of vocations to the priesthood and religious life. Now don't get me wrong: those who know our community will know that we have a keen sense of the importance of every vocation in the Church, lay, clerical and religious, and that we don't associate the word "vocation" with any particular way of following Christ. There are as many vocations as there are Christians. No, the problem is this: if we really believe that Mass and the Sacraments matter; if we really believe that preaching the Gospel matters; if we really believe that prayer matters, why are we not doing more to foster vocations to the priesthood and religious life? Why are our priests so reluctant to talk about vocation? So often all we get is a grumble about how hard it is to be a priest. Of course it is hard to be a priest. It is also hard to be a husband or father, a wife or mother, a single person, a sister, a monk, a nun; it is hard to be widowed, separated, divorced. It is also a great grace, because to be whatever we are called to be is the only way in which we can truly respond to God.
It worries me that we are so namby-pamby about vocation. I don't believe that God has ceased to call people, nor do I believe that people are any less brave or generous than in the past. I suspect that the problem is the much more fundamental one of lack of faith. Perhaps that is what we should be looking at rather than lamenting the shortage of vocations. As they say in exam questions, Discuss.
Adoration
04/July/2010
Wordsworth's
" . . . the holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration . . ."
has nothing to do with nuns or adoration but is about the beauty of evening. I have occasionally wondered where Wordsworth got his ideas about nuns from: was it as a young man, full of hope for the French Revolution and delighting in a kind of nature pantheism, or as the dutiful Church-of-England-sonnets man he later became? Either way, he got one thing absolutely right: the centrality of adoration to the life of any Christian.
When life is overfull or a bit bumpy, I have only one remedy. I go and kneel before the Blessed Sacrament. It helps, of course, if there is no one else around because when one feels one can't pray but can only kneel, (with all the prayer being in the kneeling), anything and everything can be a distraction. So one just kneels before God and turns everything over to him. This is the prayer of Total Incompetence, the prayer of the Everlasting Beginner. It is also the prayer of Adoration because at its heart is the recognition that God is God, supremely good, supremely beautiful, supremely loving. As Walter Hilton said, "I am naught; I have naught; I covet naught but Thee". It is a prayer for all times and seasons, when we ask nothing but allow God to do all. That can be hard for some of us, but letting go is essential because the more there is of us, the less there is likely to be of God. If you have never tried this kind of prayer before, today would be a very good day to begin.
" . . . the holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration . . ."
has nothing to do with nuns or adoration but is about the beauty of evening. I have occasionally wondered where Wordsworth got his ideas about nuns from: was it as a young man, full of hope for the French Revolution and delighting in a kind of nature pantheism, or as the dutiful Church-of-England-sonnets man he later became? Either way, he got one thing absolutely right: the centrality of adoration to the life of any Christian.
When life is overfull or a bit bumpy, I have only one remedy. I go and kneel before the Blessed Sacrament. It helps, of course, if there is no one else around because when one feels one can't pray but can only kneel, (with all the prayer being in the kneeling), anything and everything can be a distraction. So one just kneels before God and turns everything over to him. This is the prayer of Total Incompetence, the prayer of the Everlasting Beginner. It is also the prayer of Adoration because at its heart is the recognition that God is God, supremely good, supremely beautiful, supremely loving. As Walter Hilton said, "I am naught; I have naught; I covet naught but Thee". It is a prayer for all times and seasons, when we ask nothing but allow God to do all. That can be hard for some of us, but letting go is essential because the more there is of us, the less there is likely to be of God. If you have never tried this kind of prayer before, today would be a very good day to begin.
Another Kind of Dame
03/July/2010
The death of Dame Beryl Bainbridge has been greeted with sadness by all who enjoyed her books and larger-than-life personality. There will be a flurry of obituaries and "literary assessments" of someone who was dubbed "the Booker bridesmaid" (she was nominated five times) before she is allowed to take her place in the literary pantheon. Many writers produce autobiographies and we all know how sceptically one has to read certain sections, but Dame Beryl did something different. About four years ago she made a film with her grandson called "Beryl's Last Year" to record what she thought she was like. Few of us would be brave enough or imaginative enough to risk such a venture. I think it demonstrates that she was indeed another kind of dame. Requiescat in pace. Amen.
(Note for the perplexed: Benedictine nuns are called "Dame", a relic of the medieval "Domina" or more commonly, "Domna": it is just a form of address [like the monk's "Dom"]; Dame Beryl had received a D.B.E. from the Queen. In her case "Dame" is the equivalent to the knight's "Sir" and is a title of honour.
(Note for the perplexed: Benedictine nuns are called "Dame", a relic of the medieval "Domina" or more commonly, "Domna": it is just a form of address [like the monk's "Dom"]; Dame Beryl had received a D.B.E. from the Queen. In her case "Dame" is the equivalent to the knight's "Sir" and is a title of honour.
Fridays
02/July/2010
Sometimes I wonder whether we should have become nuns. Friday is traditionally POETS day (push off early, tomorrow's Saturday) and in many an office the week-end atmosphere is helped along by "dress down" concessions. On these I make no comment, except to say that jeans and a tee shirt, no matter how expensive, don't suit our solicitor though I am happy to see them on friends in the media world. No, my problem is that Friday sees us gearing up for (even more) action. The week-ends tend to be full of visitors (whom we are delighted to see, of course) and a host of related activities, including, naturally enough, grander than usual liturgy on Sundays. It means that when Monday morning dawns and the "working week" begins, we can be a bit limp. There isn't an obvious solution, but I'm inclined to think that the mortification of obedience has been joined by the asceticism of work and there must be something positive in it. Isn't that a heartening thought? When you are worried about "not doing enough spiritually", you can point to your work and say, "That's my asceticism". Just don't let your life be all work and no pray.
Spiritual Direction
29/June/2010
The solemnity of SS Peter and Paul is as good a day as any to address a subject that often comes up in correspondence with the monastery: spiritual direction. Peter and Paul represent two different but complementary strands in the Christian tradition, summed up by a former member of the community as, "I'd go to Peter if I had a whopper of a sin to confess; but to Paul if I wanted a spiritual spiff".
Those thinking seriously about consecrated life are usually advised to "get a spiritual director". If they succeed, and it is by no means easy to find someone with the requisite gifts, the results are not always happy. There can be unreal expectations on both sides. Some directors incline to what we might call the Pauline approach: rather cerebral and sometimes rather prescriptive. Others are more like Peter: kind but a bit chaotic when a little clarity would be helpful. "Directees" are sometimes confused about what they they are hoping to achieve and lean too much on their directors. The temptation to become a kind of spiritual Peter Pan is not unknown.
In the seventeenth century Fr Augustine Baker, a Benedictine monk, thought long and hard about this question. He knew that every Christian aspires to "a perfection of union in spirit with God by perfect love", but that the means to attaining this will differ according to personality and circumstance. Those called to seek God primarily in the contemplative way must dispose themselves "to receive the influxes and inspirations of God, whose guidance chiefly they endeavour to follow in all things." At the beginning they will need a guide, but the guide must set them on the right way so that in future they do not need to have recourse to any but the Holy Spirit. Put as baldly as that, one can see why Baker was regarded with great suspicion by many of his enemies. But fortunately, he wrote voluminously, and in his many treatises we have a sustained teaching on contemplative prayer which is one of the glories of the Church in England and Wales.
What Baker looked for in a spiritual guide was humility and "a good natural judgement". His task is to teach "how they may themselves find out the way proper to them, by observing themselves what doeth good and what causeth harm to their spirits; in a word he is only God's usher, and must lead souls in God's way and not his own." He was by no means narrowly clerical, freely acknowledging that some of the best guides are "lay persons and women". Those directed are to "deal freely, plainly and candidly [with their director]. . . concealing nothing necessary to be known."
The human director must give way, however: "God alone is our only master and director; and creatures, when He is pleased to use them, are only His instruments." Then the real work is to begin. God's guidance is to be sought in reading, which Fr Baker esteemed "for worth and spiritual profit, to be next unto prayer". The reading list he drew up for the nuns of Cambrai, from whom ultimately our own community derives, and which I myself followed as a novice, is a tough and demanding one. You can find it in "Sancta Sophia", but read it with Baker's warning not to trouble your head about things which are above your understanding. What we seek is union with God, not merely knowledge about God. Particularly worthy of note is Fr Baker's appreciation of the English mystical tradition. He advised the Cambrai nuns to reread "The Cloud of Unknowing" and "The Epistle of Privy Counsel" every two years, and accompany such reading with a solid diet of scripture and patristics.
Unsurprisingly, the third and "principle way by which God teachers internal livers" is "interior illuminations and inspirations of God's Holy Spirit, who is to be acknowledged the only supreme Master." Attentiveness to His voice is what matters, and we are enjoined to silence that inner voice which so often distracts and misleads us. The monastery is not only a school of the Lord's service, it is "a workhouse wherein the art of the Divine Spirit is taught and practised."
The monastery as workhouse: that idea is already present in RB, and it scotches the notion that contemplative life is an "easy option". Prayer has to be worked at, even if it is a gift. It is a gift God desires all to share. In Fr Baker's words, "May the blessed spirit of Prayer rest upon us all. Amen. Amen."
Those thinking seriously about consecrated life are usually advised to "get a spiritual director". If they succeed, and it is by no means easy to find someone with the requisite gifts, the results are not always happy. There can be unreal expectations on both sides. Some directors incline to what we might call the Pauline approach: rather cerebral and sometimes rather prescriptive. Others are more like Peter: kind but a bit chaotic when a little clarity would be helpful. "Directees" are sometimes confused about what they they are hoping to achieve and lean too much on their directors. The temptation to become a kind of spiritual Peter Pan is not unknown.
In the seventeenth century Fr Augustine Baker, a Benedictine monk, thought long and hard about this question. He knew that every Christian aspires to "a perfection of union in spirit with God by perfect love", but that the means to attaining this will differ according to personality and circumstance. Those called to seek God primarily in the contemplative way must dispose themselves "to receive the influxes and inspirations of God, whose guidance chiefly they endeavour to follow in all things." At the beginning they will need a guide, but the guide must set them on the right way so that in future they do not need to have recourse to any but the Holy Spirit. Put as baldly as that, one can see why Baker was regarded with great suspicion by many of his enemies. But fortunately, he wrote voluminously, and in his many treatises we have a sustained teaching on contemplative prayer which is one of the glories of the Church in England and Wales.
What Baker looked for in a spiritual guide was humility and "a good natural judgement". His task is to teach "how they may themselves find out the way proper to them, by observing themselves what doeth good and what causeth harm to their spirits; in a word he is only God's usher, and must lead souls in God's way and not his own." He was by no means narrowly clerical, freely acknowledging that some of the best guides are "lay persons and women". Those directed are to "deal freely, plainly and candidly [with their director]. . . concealing nothing necessary to be known."
The human director must give way, however: "God alone is our only master and director; and creatures, when He is pleased to use them, are only His instruments." Then the real work is to begin. God's guidance is to be sought in reading, which Fr Baker esteemed "for worth and spiritual profit, to be next unto prayer". The reading list he drew up for the nuns of Cambrai, from whom ultimately our own community derives, and which I myself followed as a novice, is a tough and demanding one. You can find it in "Sancta Sophia", but read it with Baker's warning not to trouble your head about things which are above your understanding. What we seek is union with God, not merely knowledge about God. Particularly worthy of note is Fr Baker's appreciation of the English mystical tradition. He advised the Cambrai nuns to reread "The Cloud of Unknowing" and "The Epistle of Privy Counsel" every two years, and accompany such reading with a solid diet of scripture and patristics.
Unsurprisingly, the third and "principle way by which God teachers internal livers" is "interior illuminations and inspirations of God's Holy Spirit, who is to be acknowledged the only supreme Master." Attentiveness to His voice is what matters, and we are enjoined to silence that inner voice which so often distracts and misleads us. The monastery is not only a school of the Lord's service, it is "a workhouse wherein the art of the Divine Spirit is taught and practised."
The monastery as workhouse: that idea is already present in RB, and it scotches the notion that contemplative life is an "easy option". Prayer has to be worked at, even if it is a gift. It is a gift God desires all to share. In Fr Baker's words, "May the blessed spirit of Prayer rest upon us all. Amen. Amen."
Quiet and Humble
28/June/2010
Our retreat is over. We have renewed our vows and now take up where we left off. The natural rhythms of monastic life are "quiet and humble", without much outward incident (which is not to say that they are not busy/interesting, just not headline-worthy). It will take a while to catch up on correspondence, mow the lawn, do the shopping and repair everything which has managed to break or come adrift during the past week. (Funny how a house needs perpetual maintenance, isn't it?)
Many thanks to all who have responded to our questions about the web site, and thanks in advance to those who will do so. Some suggestions, regretfully, have had to be filed in the "if only" box. A small community, committed to prayer and service and needing to earn a living, cannot do everything it would like to do. Learning to live with one's limitations is part of growing up, but most of us never quite grow up; so no doubt we shall continue to take on a little more than is entirely prudent. St Benedict talks today in RB about the work of deans and the way in which they share the superior's burdens. What a pity he never got round to thinking about communities too few in number to have deans. Rather as in the modern nuclear family, there's an absence of "buffer zone". That ought to make us more sensitive to the needs and experiences of others, though one sometimes wonders. At least we can truthfully say, "institutional we ain't." And how often have you heard that said by any church organization?
Many thanks to all who have responded to our questions about the web site, and thanks in advance to those who will do so. Some suggestions, regretfully, have had to be filed in the "if only" box. A small community, committed to prayer and service and needing to earn a living, cannot do everything it would like to do. Learning to live with one's limitations is part of growing up, but most of us never quite grow up; so no doubt we shall continue to take on a little more than is entirely prudent. St Benedict talks today in RB about the work of deans and the way in which they share the superior's burdens. What a pity he never got round to thinking about communities too few in number to have deans. Rather as in the modern nuclear family, there's an absence of "buffer zone". That ought to make us more sensitive to the needs and experiences of others, though one sometimes wonders. At least we can truthfully say, "institutional we ain't." And how often have you heard that said by any church organization?
Loud and Proud
20/June/2010
We are just about to start our annual retreat, so there will be no blogging or tweeting until next Sunday unless the Spirit moves us. Three things, however, seem to have come together in an unexpected way and are (hopefully) worth commenting on before we go into silence.
Everyone in Britain and America at least will know that today is Father's Day (or should it be Fathers' Day?). There will be lots of households where "Dad" will be remembered in that affectionate, half-embarrassed way we are all so good at: the jokey card that tries to say "I love you" without actually using those words, and the weird and whacky presents Pa will be forced to wear/use with something approaching good humour. So, Digitalnun has posted a new podcast with a few thoughts on the spiritual dimension of fatherhood. Let us pray for all fathers, and for the blessing of our Heavenly Father upon them.
Yesterday some friends came to visit. Both are retired army officers with a strong commitment to Help for Heroes. At some point we began talking about the forthcoming Armed Forces Day (Saturday, 26 June) and appropriate ways of marking our appreciation of Service Personnel, whatever our opinions about the war in Afghanistan, etc. Conversation then took a (to us) surprising turn, when quite naturally and thoughtfully, one of them began to talk about the spiritual dimension of healing post traumatic stress disorder and the crucial role, as he saw it, of monasteries in providing exactly the right mix of relaxed welcome and structure to enable people to process some of their distress.
To be honest, I had never made the connection. When I was younger, I did register that monasteries seemed to have quite a lot of former servicemen and women in them but I had attributed that to a more general phenomenon following the Second World War. I am now wondering whether there is a specific contribution that monasteries can make to helping men and women scarred by their experiences of war. The silence and beauty of monastic life can be balm to the wounded while the monastic tradition of spiritual fatherhood (which is not confined to the male sex) has within it a tremendous power. Those who are gifted with it (and by no means every monk or nun is) are able to listen with great love and sympathy to the most terrible recitals; and because they are men and women of deep and persevering prayer, are able to open channels of healing medical science is often reluctant to recognize.
We are asked to be loud and proud in our support of the Armed Forces. Let's not forget that we need to pray, too. Fatherhood, whatever form it takes, is for life. The duty of care never ends.
Everyone in Britain and America at least will know that today is Father's Day (or should it be Fathers' Day?). There will be lots of households where "Dad" will be remembered in that affectionate, half-embarrassed way we are all so good at: the jokey card that tries to say "I love you" without actually using those words, and the weird and whacky presents Pa will be forced to wear/use with something approaching good humour. So, Digitalnun has posted a new podcast with a few thoughts on the spiritual dimension of fatherhood. Let us pray for all fathers, and for the blessing of our Heavenly Father upon them.
Yesterday some friends came to visit. Both are retired army officers with a strong commitment to Help for Heroes. At some point we began talking about the forthcoming Armed Forces Day (Saturday, 26 June) and appropriate ways of marking our appreciation of Service Personnel, whatever our opinions about the war in Afghanistan, etc. Conversation then took a (to us) surprising turn, when quite naturally and thoughtfully, one of them began to talk about the spiritual dimension of healing post traumatic stress disorder and the crucial role, as he saw it, of monasteries in providing exactly the right mix of relaxed welcome and structure to enable people to process some of their distress.
To be honest, I had never made the connection. When I was younger, I did register that monasteries seemed to have quite a lot of former servicemen and women in them but I had attributed that to a more general phenomenon following the Second World War. I am now wondering whether there is a specific contribution that monasteries can make to helping men and women scarred by their experiences of war. The silence and beauty of monastic life can be balm to the wounded while the monastic tradition of spiritual fatherhood (which is not confined to the male sex) has within it a tremendous power. Those who are gifted with it (and by no means every monk or nun is) are able to listen with great love and sympathy to the most terrible recitals; and because they are men and women of deep and persevering prayer, are able to open channels of healing medical science is often reluctant to recognize.
We are asked to be loud and proud in our support of the Armed Forces. Let's not forget that we need to pray, too. Fatherhood, whatever form it takes, is for life. The duty of care never ends.
Online Community
18/June/2010
As some of you know, Digitalnun has been beavering away in the small hours trying to get the relaunch of our web site ready for sometime this side of eternity. One of the questions we want to address concerns online community. While we believe that monastic communities need to expand into cyberspace and have planned a number of developments which we hope will help in that regard, it is a valid criticism that a lot of what one finds on the net today is spiritually a bit lacking in substance. We are not in the business of purveying “monasticism lite” so there is an obvious challenge for us. We have thought about conducting an online survey, but the way in which the questions are phrased tends to colour the replies; so we have settled for the straightforward approach.
If you have time and inclination, we would be very interested to know
Support our Catholic Press
We are great admirers of traditional media and the efforts of Catholic publishers to encourage active involvement in the life of the Church and civil society. When did you last buy a Catholic newspaper or magazine? Why not try "The Universe" this week-end? We have reason to believe you may see a familiar hand or paw at work. (Please stop this shameless commercialism. Ed.)
If you have time and inclination, we would be very interested to know
- what you hope to obtain from interaction with our community (or indeed, any monastic community)
- what you would like to see added to/subtracted from our online presence.
Support our Catholic Press
We are great admirers of traditional media and the efforts of Catholic publishers to encourage active involvement in the life of the Church and civil society. When did you last buy a Catholic newspaper or magazine? Why not try "The Universe" this week-end? We have reason to believe you may see a familiar hand or paw at work. (Please stop this shameless commercialism. Ed.)
Too Many Things
17/June/2010
From time to time I look at all the things in my room and wish I could escape to a monastery: a nice, minimalist monastery, with plain wooden floors, clean white walls and not much else. Then I remember that I am IN a monastery, and the thick clutter of things which so irritates me is there because it is necessary. It is what enables me to do my work. However much I long for the Cistercian emptiness of the imagination, I am stuck with the Benedictine messiness of actual life. The stacks of paper, the machines, the boxes and files in which I regularly lose important items and which crowd round my bed like a pack of wolves menacing an intruder, are not going to go away. They are part of what constitutes monastic life in the twenty-first century.
Isn’t it strange how we always seem to want what we cannot have? My desire to have less is only a variation on the desire to have more. At the root of both is a self-centred dissatisfaction with life as it is, which is probably much more reprehensible than I am prepared to admit. The one thing I can say in my favour is, wanting to get rid of things rather than acquire them does make for some interesting trips to the local dump.
Isn’t it strange how we always seem to want what we cannot have? My desire to have less is only a variation on the desire to have more. At the root of both is a self-centred dissatisfaction with life as it is, which is probably much more reprehensible than I am prepared to admit. The one thing I can say in my favour is, wanting to get rid of things rather than acquire them does make for some interesting trips to the local dump.
A Nasty Way to Die
16/June/2010
No, I’m not talking about “Psycho”, which I deliberately failed to see before becoming a nun (far too lively an imagination to watch horror movies!), but the martyrdom of Blessed William Greenwood. Who he? Regular readers of Colophon will have guessed that he was probably a London Carthusian, so boundless is my admiration for them. William was a lay-brother of the London Charterhouse who was taken to Newgate Prison and starved to death with six companions in June 1537. His last days were spent in great squalour, chained to a post, with his hands tied behind him. The heroic Margaret Clement did her best to provide the monks with food and clean them, but the gaoler was afraid of the king’s wrath and eventually prevented her entering the prison.
Yesterday I posted about Kyrgyzstan and the horrors there. Today I might have posted about the Saville enquiry, or the latest deaths in Afghanistan, but I am thinking about that Carthusian lay-brother of five hundred years ago. Why? It is because William’s death reminds us what human beings can do to one another. There are many at the present time who are undergoing unjust imprisonment, torture and death. We have not really “progressed” very far since the 1500s. But that is not all there is to say. William’s courage is also to be found today in those who are prepared to risk everything for what they believe to be true.
Why not spend a minute or two today thinking about Blessed William and what he had to endure, then pray for all who are subject to such inhumane treatment now? It may be for religious or political ideals or something else altogether, it doesn’t matter. We do not have to agree with the opinions of those who suffer but we do need to connect our prayer with the grubby reality of life. Death may be glorious and joyfully accepted, but blood and dirt remain blood and dirt, while pain is never lessened by being endured for another. You have only to look at a crucifix to realise that.
Yesterday I posted about Kyrgyzstan and the horrors there. Today I might have posted about the Saville enquiry, or the latest deaths in Afghanistan, but I am thinking about that Carthusian lay-brother of five hundred years ago. Why? It is because William’s death reminds us what human beings can do to one another. There are many at the present time who are undergoing unjust imprisonment, torture and death. We have not really “progressed” very far since the 1500s. But that is not all there is to say. William’s courage is also to be found today in those who are prepared to risk everything for what they believe to be true.
Why not spend a minute or two today thinking about Blessed William and what he had to endure, then pray for all who are subject to such inhumane treatment now? It may be for religious or political ideals or something else altogether, it doesn’t matter. We do not have to agree with the opinions of those who suffer but we do need to connect our prayer with the grubby reality of life. Death may be glorious and joyfully accepted, but blood and dirt remain blood and dirt, while pain is never lessened by being endured for another. You have only to look at a crucifix to realise that.
Kyrgyzstan
15/June/2010
Suddenly the whole world knows where Kyrgyzstan is but how few have any idea what is really happening and why. The reports we are receiving in the west are deeply troubling. Whatever kind of euphemism we use, it looks as though we are witnessing an attempt at genocide. If that seems exaggerated, consider these words of a spokesman for the UN Human Rights Commissioner, “We're also getting reports that [the killing of Uzbeks, including children is] not accidental, that it's been orchestrated, targeted, planned... [we] can't prove that at this point but that seems to be the indication - which is, you know, particularly reprehensible, given what a tinderbox this region is.” Uzbekistan cannot cope with the refugees and at the time of writing was considering closing its borders.
The distress this must be causing is unimaginable. It highlights both the need for an organization like the United Nations, and the weakness of such a body in the face of human malice. For make no mistake about it, what we are dealing with is precisely that: malice, evil willed against other human beings. As Christians our duty is plain. We must do all that we can to ensure that practical help is given to those in need, that political pressure is put upon the government of Kyrgyzstan to act responsibly towards all its citizens; but above all, we must pray. Prayer is not a last line of defence against evil, it is the first line of attack on evil.
The distress this must be causing is unimaginable. It highlights both the need for an organization like the United Nations, and the weakness of such a body in the face of human malice. For make no mistake about it, what we are dealing with is precisely that: malice, evil willed against other human beings. As Christians our duty is plain. We must do all that we can to ensure that practical help is given to those in need, that political pressure is put upon the government of Kyrgyzstan to act responsibly towards all its citizens; but above all, we must pray. Prayer is not a last line of defence against evil, it is the first line of attack on evil.
The Best Things in Life
14/June/2010
I spent ten minutes this morning watching a green woodpecker close to my window. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to one before and simply gave myself up to looking. There were a dozen other things I should have been doing, but I cannot feel guilty about it. Indeed, I would feel guilty if I had not stopped. It was one of those unexpected gifts which delight because they are perfect, complete in themselves. I daresay I will remember that woodpecker for the rest of my life. A reminder, not that the best things in life are free but that the best things in life are given.
World Cup
12/June/2010
The number of anti-Catholic and anti-religious emails in our inbox (which usually peaks on a Saturday morning) has plummeted. I think it must have something to do with football. Perhaps there is a point to the World Cup after all.
Birds, BP and the Sacred Heart
11/June/2010
On a recent visit to a nearby monastery, we were thrilled to spot this bird’s nest above the entrance door. Seeing wild creatures close up is always heart-warming. One forgets that nature is “red in tooth and claw” and registers only the beauty and the vulnerability. In a similar manner, photos of the devastating effects of the oil-slicks in the Gulf of Mexico are changing the way in which we look at the problems they pose. The BP oil-rig disaster is being transformed from a personal tragedy (eleven dead and hundreds, if not thousands, losing their livelihoods) and ecological catastrophe into something potentially even more damaging.
The Obama administration’s attacks on BP (which, by the way, has not been “British Petroleum” since about the mid 1990s) are in danger of losing sight of the larger picture. One can understand the frustration, the political need to be seen to be doing something, but is the invective achieving anything positive? Driving down the BP share price, putting BP bonds into what is, to all effects and purposes, the junk category, and whipping up anti-British sentiment does no one any favours. Thirty-nine percent of BP is owned by U.S. investors, which has implications for US pension funds; and there is the inconvenient fact that putting British lives at risk in Afghanistan in what is widely perceived here as an American conflict is highly unpopular. Is there not a danger that a rift may be opened up which will have even more dire consequences than all that oil spilling into the sea?
So, where does the Sacred Heart, whose Solemnity we keep today, come into all this? With reverence, I would say at the very centre. Wherever there is human need and suffering, you will find God, although not perhaps the God you think you will find, the beautiful and transcendent Person untouched by the messiness of human existence. The Sacred Heart of Jesus is, as Isaiah said long ago, disfigured by our sin. We need to look beyond the obvious. That wounded Heart, which spilled its life-blood for us, is both a challenge and an encouragement. It challenges us to accept pain and suffering and sacrifice for the sake of others; it also encourages us to look forward to the hope of redemption. Somehow, all of us, both as individuals and as nation states, have got to learn how to lay aside our prejudices, our short-term triumphs over one another. What is happening now in the Gulf of Mexico may prove to have important consequences for us all. May the Sacred Heart of Jesus inspire and guide us. To see with his Heart is, after all, the surest way of seeing clearly.
Nuns on the Net
10/June/2010
Twice a year Digitalnun googles the word “nun”. The results are sometimes amusing, sometimes illuminating, quite often dispiriting. I am not referring to the porn-related entries which, tellingly, seem to make up the bulk of the results but to those stray references to nuns and perceived attitudes which are so revealing. If you are reading this, you probably don’t share the majority view that nuns are intrinsically boring, unintelligent and censorious (at least, I hope you don’t!). What interests me is how these negative views of nuns could have come about. I was taught by religious sisters who were formidably bright, well-informed and fun to be with. When, rather to my surprise, I became a nun myself, I found that the community I had joined was full of people who were not only formidably bright, well-informed and fun to be with but quite obviously and demonstrably holy, i.e. people who radiated God in a way that was immensely attractive. (Some weren’t and didn’t, but that only proves that nuns are ordinary people and some of us have to struggle all our lives. The biggest claim we can make is, just think how much worse we’d be if we weren’t nuns. Sad, rather, but true.)
Unlike many, I don’t think that nuns are an endangered species, nor do I think our lives a waste or an irrelevance; but I do wonder why there is so much negativity, even among those who should know better. Even well-disposed clergy have a habit of referring to us as “the dear sisters” or “the good nuns”, phrases which set our teeth on edge because, frankly, they sound patronising. As to the people they think “might have a vocation”, words fail me. Even dedicated resources on the net are not without their problems.
For example, from time to time, I dip into a forum intended to help those considering a religious vocation. It tends to leave me tearing my wimple. I can cope with the romanticism, the dogmatism and even the rudeness of some posts (the forum is not UK-based, so one must allow for cultural differences and assume that no offence is intended) but what troubles me, and other monks/nuns with whom I have discussed the matter, is the prevalence of a number of self-appointed guru figures who seem to have a disproportionate amount of influence. When some who have never themselves been nuns/religious lay down the law about vocation or censure communities whose dress or ministry they disapprove of, there is a distinct whiff of sulphur, rather akin to that of sites which proudly assert their Catholicism but which, on closer examination, are found to be seriously adrift. There are honourable exceptions, of course. Digitalnun has been compiling a list of “trusted links” which she will eventually be posting on this web site in the hope of helping those trying to find their place in the Church. If you wish to suggest any for possible inclusion, please email the monastery. We will not link to any site we have not personally assessed, so please do not clog the comments section with URLs. Remember that digital blue pencil!
Unlike many, I don’t think that nuns are an endangered species, nor do I think our lives a waste or an irrelevance; but I do wonder why there is so much negativity, even among those who should know better. Even well-disposed clergy have a habit of referring to us as “the dear sisters” or “the good nuns”, phrases which set our teeth on edge because, frankly, they sound patronising. As to the people they think “might have a vocation”, words fail me. Even dedicated resources on the net are not without their problems.
For example, from time to time, I dip into a forum intended to help those considering a religious vocation. It tends to leave me tearing my wimple. I can cope with the romanticism, the dogmatism and even the rudeness of some posts (the forum is not UK-based, so one must allow for cultural differences and assume that no offence is intended) but what troubles me, and other monks/nuns with whom I have discussed the matter, is the prevalence of a number of self-appointed guru figures who seem to have a disproportionate amount of influence. When some who have never themselves been nuns/religious lay down the law about vocation or censure communities whose dress or ministry they disapprove of, there is a distinct whiff of sulphur, rather akin to that of sites which proudly assert their Catholicism but which, on closer examination, are found to be seriously adrift. There are honourable exceptions, of course. Digitalnun has been compiling a list of “trusted links” which she will eventually be posting on this web site in the hope of helping those trying to find their place in the Church. If you wish to suggest any for possible inclusion, please email the monastery. We will not link to any site we have not personally assessed, so please do not clog the comments section with URLs. Remember that digital blue pencil!
Age of Austerity
08/June/2010
Could austerity become fashionable again? Yesterday’s speech by David Cameron made me think of wartime Britain. The austerity measures imposed by war resulted in a population which was actually healthier than ever before and, I think, more generous than before: witness the Welfare State and the opportunities offered by free education from primary to tertiary level. It is the generation to which I belong, the Baby Boomers, which has squandered that inheritance. We are now fatter, greedier and more reckless in our exploitation of the earth’s resources. Our selfishness means that young people today have a much less optimistic future than we once had.
However, I don’t think the budgetary cuts for which we are being prepared are necessarily all bad news. “Going without” is not in itself virtuous, can indeed be harmful, but if we are honest, we know that while we may not have everything we would like, most of us have all we need and more. The age of austerity upon which we are entering will certainly shake us out of our complacency. When we can no longer assume a right to this or that (holidays overseas, a designer label, or what you will), we shall be forced to reconsider where our priorities lie. Britain has a fine record for charitable giving, but when we can no longer give from our abundance but must share from more modest resources, we shall learn the true meaning of generosity. Is it too much to hope that we might become nicer people, more willing to help others, more kindly?
There will be some for whom the cuts will do more than trim the fat from their existence. There will be people who will suffer, whose incomes will not stretch to provide for all their needs and those of their families. I think we can be confident that the Churches will be in the forefront of trying to help. For some, that will mean a major shift in focus from the world “out there” to nearer home. With luck, or perhaps I should say grace, we might spend less time and energy on our internal squabbles and dissensions and more on learning how to be genuinely compassionate. If so, austerity will not only improve our physical health, it should do wonders for our spiritual health, too.
(Photo shows Duncan helping to compose a Colophon entry).
Restorations?
02/June/2010
While we await a visit from BT which we hope will restore our connectivity with the outside world, we thought we would share this photograph with you (assuming our Broadband connection lasts long enough to upload it). It shows the chapel of the house where we stayed while D. Lucy enjoyed her delayed Silver Jubilee pilgrimage to Assisi. Here we prayed Lauds and Vespers, perched on the warm stone of the side walls, looking out over the green heart of Italy, with Hoopoes and Golden Orioles adding their song to ours. It was a magical few days for which we are profoundly grateful.
Connections
23/May/2010
God has played one of his little jokes on us. It all began with our Mac behaving strangely. Digitalnun retired to her room to do some trouble-shooting, emerging only for the briefest of intervals (choir, food, greenhouse, dog, not necessarily in that order). Having decided to erase the hard disk and reinstall everything, she discovered that the telephone line was behaving strangely too, so spent the next few hours trying to trouble-shoot that. Reinstalling everything on the computer and double-checking for the latest updates revealed ever-increasing problems with our Broadband connection. Fortunately, the arrival of sunshine and warmth stopped tempers fraying, but we admit we have been tearing our wimples over the communication difficulties. So much for our thoughtful post on Pentecost and our latest podcast, which we haven’t been able to get online.
Blogging is likely to be sporadic while we try to get these problems solved. Email is currently unreliable; the telephone is almost incomprehensible; the waste of time is frightening. Can we learn anything from all this? We live in a world where communication has never been easier, but we rely too much on instant access. When it fails, our world fragments and we have to work harder at maintaining connections. We need the Holy Spirit.
Blogging is likely to be sporadic while we try to get these problems solved. Email is currently unreliable; the telephone is almost incomprehensible; the waste of time is frightening. Can we learn anything from all this? We live in a world where communication has never been easier, but we rely too much on instant access. When it fails, our world fragments and we have to work harder at maintaining connections. We need the Holy Spirit.
Brave New World?
21/May/2010
The announcement that Craig Venter has succeeded in making "artificial life", a one-celled organism with manmade DNA, will be grabbing many headlines today. There will be arguments about the possible benefits versus possible dangers. Comparatively few of us will actually be able to think clearly about the moral and ethical issues involved. If we have enough science we may not have enough philosophy or theology; if we have enough philosophy and theology, we may not have enough science. I suspect that the Churches will address the moral issue with varying degrees of clarity and comprehension, but I wonder who will address the ethical issue.
The biochemist in community has wisely suspended judgement, pointing out that from a Christian perspective "life" means more than a packet of DNA. She, at least, is not wildly excited by Dr Venter's work, expecting that media hype will not help anyone to a cool appreciation of what is going on. Again, she is alert to the moral dimensions of the case but seems not to have thought about the ethical ones. For me, the ethical considerations are the most urgent. Do we trust our institutions enough to allow them to develop this kind of research and not put it to uses which no decent human being could countenance?
We have not managed to rid the world of hunger, poverty or disease, for all our technological achievements over the past three thousand years. Still less have we managed to rid ourselves of violence and war. In fact, we seem to have found ever nastier and more horrific ways of killing. I wonder whether making that blue blob of synthetic DNA may turn out to be as important as the splitting of the atom. If so, pray God we never misuse it in the same deadly way.
The biochemist in community has wisely suspended judgement, pointing out that from a Christian perspective "life" means more than a packet of DNA. She, at least, is not wildly excited by Dr Venter's work, expecting that media hype will not help anyone to a cool appreciation of what is going on. Again, she is alert to the moral dimensions of the case but seems not to have thought about the ethical ones. For me, the ethical considerations are the most urgent. Do we trust our institutions enough to allow them to develop this kind of research and not put it to uses which no decent human being could countenance?
We have not managed to rid the world of hunger, poverty or disease, for all our technological achievements over the past three thousand years. Still less have we managed to rid ourselves of violence and war. In fact, we seem to have found ever nastier and more horrific ways of killing. I wonder whether making that blue blob of synthetic DNA may turn out to be as important as the splitting of the atom. If so, pray God we never misuse it in the same deadly way.
Bangkok
20/May/2010
No one can be indifferent to what has been happening in Bangkok. Often the reaction of well-meaning people will be, "I feel so helpless. What can I do?" The sad fact is that there is usually very little we can "do". Sometimes we can give our time or our money and be personally engaged in trying to improve matters. More often that kind of engagement is impossible. That is why prayer is so important. It has no frontiers, no limitations, and being an expression of love, cannot harm anyone as well-meaning attempts to be helpful all too often seem to do. We must pray for the people of Bangkok, but not in a desultory, "Lord, be merciful to them" kind of way. Prayer that is wrung from the heart can never be weak or ineffectual. Our prayer must be persevering, full of faith and trust. We are awaiting a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Let us ask the Spirit to give fire to our prayer.
A Sausage a Day
18/May/2010
My eye was caught by an article on the BBC web page today. Apparently, even a small amount of processed meat, a single sausage, can significantly raise the risk of heart disease and diabetes. If you are hoping for some diatribe about the habit of sin gradually encrusting our spiritual arteries, etc, etc, read no further. Sin is boring, except to the perpetrator, and Colophon doesn't like being bored.
What struck me about the BBC's report was (a) food has become a substitute for religion, which is why there are so many articles and programmes about it, and (b) we long for what we eat to make us immortal while at the same time stuffing ourselves with too much of everything, which rather defeats the object. This is a terrible parody of the Eucharist. What truly nourishes, what truly gives life is "a morsel of bread and a sip of wine" become the Body and Blood of Christ.
What struck me about the BBC's report was (a) food has become a substitute for religion, which is why there are so many articles and programmes about it, and (b) we long for what we eat to make us immortal while at the same time stuffing ourselves with too much of everything, which rather defeats the object. This is a terrible parody of the Eucharist. What truly nourishes, what truly gives life is "a morsel of bread and a sip of wine" become the Body and Blood of Christ.
Ascension Sunday 2010
16/May/2010
This morning at Mass I was struck by a phrase in the reading from Acts 1, "they were continually in the temple, praising God . . ." It reminded me of Bede, who had a great devotion to the Ascension and sang the Magnificat antiphon of the feast just before he died. His greatest work was De templo Salomonis, nominally an exposition of the texts concerning the building of Solomon's temple but in reality a sustained meditation on the life of the Church in which both literal and allegorical interpretations of scripture combine.
De templo is not an easy read. There's a wealth of detail about architecture and, as you would expect, a great deal of number symbolism. Most modern readers find this far-stretched or tiresome, but Bede was anything but a simpleton. His purpose was to "crack the code" so to say, and reveal the mystery hidden within. For him, as a monk, monastic life was a paradigm of the life of the Church as a whole. That is where "being continually in the temple, praising God" comes in. It sums up one aspect of monastic life: our being continually in the presence of God, mindful of him and responding with prayer and praise.
Many people wonder what St Paul meant when he exhorted believers to pray constantly. Some try to multiply vocal prayers throughout the day and hope that by so doing they will indeed be praying constantly. Woodbine Willy is a wonderful example of how such a practice can make a huge impact on others. Most people simply find the idea exhausting. "My work is my prayer," they say; and very often it is the only prayer they make. Some join monasteries and hope that life will be one long liturgy until at last they enter upon the heavenly liturgy. Show them the scullery or hand them a duster, and they look a little puzzled. This is not prayer, surely?
Prayer and work are intimately connected. Work is not prayer in and of itself, although it can be subsumed into prayer. Equally, prayer can be very hard work, as those who have tried to pray year after year, day in day out, will attest. For a Christian, there can be no substitute for those times when we do nothing except concentrate on God. To these private times of prayer we must add corporate acts of prayer. A parish Mass or a monastic Office are alike in this: they are the common worship of the community, and as members of the Body of Christ, we need to take part in them.
What the writer of Acts understood and we sometimes forget is that the body of the living Christ is the new temple in which we live and move and have our being. Everything we do should therefore have something of the nature of prayer about it, not in the sense of repeating a multiplicity of vocal prayers or attending endless liturgies, but in the sense that mind and heart are focused upon God. There will be times when the focus is sharper, times when it is less distinct. That is as it should be. We cannot live always on the heights. It was when the Lord was physically removed from them that the disciples began to see him more clearly with the eyes of faith. Their response was to be "continually in the temple, praising God". However dark or troubled our own perception of God, that can be our response too by virtue of our baptism. God never asks what he does not first give.
De templo is not an easy read. There's a wealth of detail about architecture and, as you would expect, a great deal of number symbolism. Most modern readers find this far-stretched or tiresome, but Bede was anything but a simpleton. His purpose was to "crack the code" so to say, and reveal the mystery hidden within. For him, as a monk, monastic life was a paradigm of the life of the Church as a whole. That is where "being continually in the temple, praising God" comes in. It sums up one aspect of monastic life: our being continually in the presence of God, mindful of him and responding with prayer and praise.
Many people wonder what St Paul meant when he exhorted believers to pray constantly. Some try to multiply vocal prayers throughout the day and hope that by so doing they will indeed be praying constantly. Woodbine Willy is a wonderful example of how such a practice can make a huge impact on others. Most people simply find the idea exhausting. "My work is my prayer," they say; and very often it is the only prayer they make. Some join monasteries and hope that life will be one long liturgy until at last they enter upon the heavenly liturgy. Show them the scullery or hand them a duster, and they look a little puzzled. This is not prayer, surely?
Prayer and work are intimately connected. Work is not prayer in and of itself, although it can be subsumed into prayer. Equally, prayer can be very hard work, as those who have tried to pray year after year, day in day out, will attest. For a Christian, there can be no substitute for those times when we do nothing except concentrate on God. To these private times of prayer we must add corporate acts of prayer. A parish Mass or a monastic Office are alike in this: they are the common worship of the community, and as members of the Body of Christ, we need to take part in them.
What the writer of Acts understood and we sometimes forget is that the body of the living Christ is the new temple in which we live and move and have our being. Everything we do should therefore have something of the nature of prayer about it, not in the sense of repeating a multiplicity of vocal prayers or attending endless liturgies, but in the sense that mind and heart are focused upon God. There will be times when the focus is sharper, times when it is less distinct. That is as it should be. We cannot live always on the heights. It was when the Lord was physically removed from them that the disciples began to see him more clearly with the eyes of faith. Their response was to be "continually in the temple, praising God". However dark or troubled our own perception of God, that can be our response too by virtue of our baptism. God never asks what he does not first give.
Thirteenth Apostle?
14/May/2010
I have always had a soft spot for St Matthias. He was with Jesus from the beginning of his public ministry but not in the inner circle of the Twelve. The first we hear of him is when the Apostles are faced with a crisis. What are they to do about making up the number of the Twelve, now that Judas has abandoned his place in it? That is when we learn about the other disciples who have been baptizing and preaching, faithfully and obscurely, in Jesus' name. It is an important moment in the life of the Church, when the Apostles take on responsibility for the ongoing mission and choose someone to have a special role in it.
Matthias is not the thirteenth Apostle, however. He is enrolled as one of the Twelve. The Church has never quite come to terms with the betrayal from within. Judas has been vilified, and sometimes I think the vilifcation says more about our fears than it does about Judas himself. We project onto him what we do not like about ourselves. If we search our hearts, we all know we have had Judas moments in our lives: times when we have behaved shabbily or affected others adversely. I like to think that the integrity of Matthias somehow compensates for the shortcomings of Judas; that his fidelity somehow makes up for the betrayal. Perhaps we could ask his prayers for our own infidelities, our own falling short of the vocation to which we have been called.
Today, when we are asked to pray and make reparation for the hurt and harm done by those who have abused others, we can also take encouragement from Matthias. We may be people of no importance; what we do may be very small and imperfect in our own eyes and the eyes of those around us; but it is God who judges human hearts and makes our actions fruitful. May he find in us what is pleasing to him as he found it in the heart of St Matthias.
Matthias is not the thirteenth Apostle, however. He is enrolled as one of the Twelve. The Church has never quite come to terms with the betrayal from within. Judas has been vilified, and sometimes I think the vilifcation says more about our fears than it does about Judas himself. We project onto him what we do not like about ourselves. If we search our hearts, we all know we have had Judas moments in our lives: times when we have behaved shabbily or affected others adversely. I like to think that the integrity of Matthias somehow compensates for the shortcomings of Judas; that his fidelity somehow makes up for the betrayal. Perhaps we could ask his prayers for our own infidelities, our own falling short of the vocation to which we have been called.
Today, when we are asked to pray and make reparation for the hurt and harm done by those who have abused others, we can also take encouragement from Matthias. We may be people of no importance; what we do may be very small and imperfect in our own eyes and the eyes of those around us; but it is God who judges human hearts and makes our actions fruitful. May he find in us what is pleasing to him as he found it in the heart of St Matthias.
Ascension Day Not
13/May/2010
Liturgically we enter a strange few days. Everything so far has been leading up to the celebration of Ascension today, but the Catholic Church in England and Wales, as in many countries, now celebrates it on Sunday. Those of us who "live by the liturgy" are therefore at something of a loss: not only do we have to supply for Thursday to Sunday a liturgy which continues to look forward to Ascension, we also have to extract from the liturgy afterwards, breaking the traditional sequence of nine days' preparation for Pentecost. Personally, I am not convinced that moving Ascension to Sunday helps either priest or people, though I'm sure the change was well-intentioned.
St Benedict was not keen on grumbling, however, so we need to find something positive for today. The best I can manage is the thought that the Ascension is an example of the paradox at the heart of the Church's life: simultaneous presence and absence, glory attained and yet to come. Perhaps having a few more days of waiting will sharpen our appreciation on Sunday. I hope so.
St Benedict was not keen on grumbling, however, so we need to find something positive for today. The best I can manage is the thought that the Ascension is an example of the paradox at the heart of the Church's life: simultaneous presence and absence, glory attained and yet to come. Perhaps having a few more days of waiting will sharpen our appreciation on Sunday. I hope so.
Rural Rides
12/May/2010
To Manchester and back yesterday, which meant a round trip of approximately 400 motorway miles. Not my favourite kind of travel but made enjoyable on the way up by seeing a heron at the Stafford Service Station (which must rank as one of the best in Britain in terms of landscaping), and enthralling on the way back by the breaking news about the comings and goings in Downing Street. Today the world, or such part of it as is interested in what happens in a small offshore island in the northern hemisphere, is a-flutter with opinions, for, against, and merely rude. Colophon is making a stand: we'll pray but we won't comment. Prayer for wisdom is, after all, what politicians need most. In fact, you might say it is what most of us need most of the time.
Country Matters
10/May/2010
Saw a couple of lambs being born this morning and thought what an ancient sight that is in this part of the world. There have been sheep grazing here since before Domesday Book. If you go a little further, some patches of nettles indicate the likely site of human habitation in years past. Go further still, and you are into a little stand of woodland where we surprised half a dozen deer. The bluebells reminded me of Hopkins' crushing the flowers with his teeth, to savour the fresh taste of them. I suppose only a poet would think of doing that. On the way back we had a good view of the village, its tranquillity a contrast to the political and economic turbulence ahead of us. We pray for wisdom and justice and a degree of altruism from all the political parties. Just now, though, it feels a bit like Holy Saturday, time taken out of time when all we can do is wait. How we wait won't affect the outcome but it may make a big difference to our ability to cope with whatever follows.
For the podcast, please see here.
For the podcast, please see here.
Days of Joy
09/May/2010
Long ago and far away, Digitalnun used to comment on the prayers of the week. She gave up doing so when others, better qualified and with possibly more time, started to do so. But old habits die hard and this morning a rapt look came over her face as she sang the collect for the day. So here are a few random thoughts occasioned by that beautiful phrase in the collect for the sixth Sunday of Easter, hos laetitiae dies, quos in honorem Domini resurgentis exsequimur. In the current ICEL translation this comes out rather feebly and abstractly as "help us to celebrate our joy in the Resurrection of the Lord". What the Latin actually refers to are "these days of joy which we have been accomplishing in honour of the rising Lord." What a difference that makes!
First of all, by this stage of Easter we may need to be reminded about these "days of joy". They are continuing, even if we are beginning to feel that the Triduum is now quite distant. Then, there is the striking thought that what we do is in honour of "the rising Lord" (present participle). The Dominus resurgens is not an abstraction, nor is what we celebrate something over and done with but rather something, indeed someone, eternally present (the rising Lord). And we do more than "celebrate". That exsequimur is very strong: it means to follow to the end, to accomplish something. What we are praying about, therefore, is our following through to the very end these days of joy in honour of our rising Lord. There is a programme in the prayer, and it is not for wimps.
There is much more to say about the prayer than this but it is an ancient part of the practice of lectio divina to seize on a single phrase that can be slowly chewed over in the course of the day. For Digitalnun the thought that the Risen Christ is also Dominus resurgens will be more than enough.
Today also we come to the end of our novena to St Joseph. We are very grateful to all who have added their prayers to ours.
A podcast on some favourite May saints has been uploaded to the podcast page.
First of all, by this stage of Easter we may need to be reminded about these "days of joy". They are continuing, even if we are beginning to feel that the Triduum is now quite distant. Then, there is the striking thought that what we do is in honour of "the rising Lord" (present participle). The Dominus resurgens is not an abstraction, nor is what we celebrate something over and done with but rather something, indeed someone, eternally present (the rising Lord). And we do more than "celebrate". That exsequimur is very strong: it means to follow to the end, to accomplish something. What we are praying about, therefore, is our following through to the very end these days of joy in honour of our rising Lord. There is a programme in the prayer, and it is not for wimps.
There is much more to say about the prayer than this but it is an ancient part of the practice of lectio divina to seize on a single phrase that can be slowly chewed over in the course of the day. For Digitalnun the thought that the Risen Christ is also Dominus resurgens will be more than enough.
Today also we come to the end of our novena to St Joseph. We are very grateful to all who have added their prayers to ours.
Holy Joseph, faithful follower of Jesus and loving spouse of his mother Mary, we believe that your prayers are powerful with God. We ask you to help us with your intercession, that what we ask in faith may be found pleasing in his sight and may be granted to us from the abundance of his mercy. We thank you for the many blessings we have received through your intercession. Pray for us now that we may become what we most desire to be, perfect disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ: who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.
A podcast on some favourite May saints has been uploaded to the podcast page.
A Touch of Whimsy
08/May/2010
Waking up to yet another cold dark morning when one might reasonably have expected the weather to be a trifle warmer and the sun to be at least visible, one cannot help but feel a little low. The monastery is always a good ten degrees cooler inside than out, summer and winter; but we had visitors yesterday so put the heating on, hang the expense, and I admit, I confess, I was almost cheerful for an hour or two. If we lived where the sun shines every day, and olives and peaches grow, I daresay I could be happy . . . for a while.
Light and warmth are so important to a sense of well-being, we forget that until the nineteenth century they were not readily available. Go into any house built before then, even the grandest, and you may be surprised how little natural light there is in the rooms; look at the fireplaces, look at the bedrooms, and think how miserable it would be going to bed by the light of a tallow candle, with no fire in the fireplace (our great-grandparents thought that having any heating in the bedroom, except in extremis, was a mark of moral degeneration). It was only in the latter part of the twentieth century that central heating became more usual in Britain, but when oil and gas were alike cheap, we embraced it with enthusiasm. Now we are learning to disentangle ourselves. Here we have disentangled ourselves more than most. Visitors to Hendred are warned that shirtsleeves will not suffice: a jumper (or two), a fleece, a scarf, a thermal jacket, and you may be comfortable, during the summer months at any rate.
Why this Saturday morning rant? No reason, really, except that when one is cold and melancholy it is a great relief to inflict one's misery on others. So, be warned, if someone you meet today is rather testy, it is not a sign of their imperfect conversion, not a mark of habitual sin or even an inveterately grumpy nature. It is the fault of the weather.
Light and warmth are so important to a sense of well-being, we forget that until the nineteenth century they were not readily available. Go into any house built before then, even the grandest, and you may be surprised how little natural light there is in the rooms; look at the fireplaces, look at the bedrooms, and think how miserable it would be going to bed by the light of a tallow candle, with no fire in the fireplace (our great-grandparents thought that having any heating in the bedroom, except in extremis, was a mark of moral degeneration). It was only in the latter part of the twentieth century that central heating became more usual in Britain, but when oil and gas were alike cheap, we embraced it with enthusiasm. Now we are learning to disentangle ourselves. Here we have disentangled ourselves more than most. Visitors to Hendred are warned that shirtsleeves will not suffice: a jumper (or two), a fleece, a scarf, a thermal jacket, and you may be comfortable, during the summer months at any rate.
Why this Saturday morning rant? No reason, really, except that when one is cold and melancholy it is a great relief to inflict one's misery on others. So, be warned, if someone you meet today is rather testy, it is not a sign of their imperfect conversion, not a mark of habitual sin or even an inveterately grumpy nature. It is the fault of the weather.
The British Constitution
07/May/2010
As I write (at 5.30 a.m.) one thing is clear: we shall be holding another General Election sooner rather than later. The results which have come in demonstrate something of the fragmentation of British politics. We have been here before, most recently in the 1970s, but the working out of the Constitutional position will be interesting, given that the Prime Minister will have the right to try to continue, even if his party cannot command a majority. (Oh, Bagehot, wouldst thou were living at this hour!) Rather more worrying to Colophon is the news that some people were unable to vote yesterday. We have always prided ourselves on the way in which our Victorian systems continue to function but clearly this too will have to be rethought. We must pray that all will keep in mind the need to serve the common good. Perhaps we might add, and keep their nerve as we watch the effects on the money markets.
Yesterday's Virtual Chapter was subject to a few technical glitches (both Digitalnun and Cybernun had difficulty logging into the system, while other participants were confined to texting rather than talking for the earlier part: possibly the internet was under strain) but you can listen to the results here. Suggestions for the next Chapter are welcome.
Yesterday's Virtual Chapter was subject to a few technical glitches (both Digitalnun and Cybernun had difficulty logging into the system, while other participants were confined to texting rather than talking for the earlier part: possibly the internet was under strain) but you can listen to the results here. Suggestions for the next Chapter are welcome.
Civic Virtue
06/May/2010
Walking though the village earlier to cast my vote, I could not help reflecting on our political processes. As a woman, I am conscious of how much we owe those brave suffragists (I won't call them suffragettes) who secured for us the right to vote. It is painful to think how long it took for enfranchisement to come; more painful still to see many people today dismissing both the right and the responsibility to vote. There's the rub, of course: a right carries with it a responsibility. Democracy may not be the best form of government, but it is probably the best form of government we are likely to have this side of heaven; and it can only work if we all engage in its processes.
Many readers of Colophon will have read the Bishops' statement on Choosing the Common Good and tried to apply its principles when they come to vote. More will have spent time thinking about the policy statements of the various parties, the strengths and weaknesses of individual candidates, and decided for this person or that on the basis of what they think would be "best", where "best" is not clearly defined but is somehow to be equated with "doing what is right". Others (probably not readers of Colophon) will simply tick the name of the candidate whose party they favour without having any clear idea of what they stand for.
Does any of this matter? Today I think it matters very much indeed. We all know perfectly well that we face a very uncomfortable few years at least. The civil unrest in Greece is a tragic warning of what could happen if we do not face up to the demands of our situation. The concept of the common good is a valuable one, and you do not need to be a philosopher to recognize its implications. They go further than the concerns of our own nation state. At their core is a concern for justice, for right order, which is truly universal. One vote may seem small and insignificant but the strength of our political system rests on an intelligent and responsible use of the vote we have. Civic virtue may not sound very exciting but without it we could all too soon descend into chaos.
Many readers of Colophon will have read the Bishops' statement on Choosing the Common Good and tried to apply its principles when they come to vote. More will have spent time thinking about the policy statements of the various parties, the strengths and weaknesses of individual candidates, and decided for this person or that on the basis of what they think would be "best", where "best" is not clearly defined but is somehow to be equated with "doing what is right". Others (probably not readers of Colophon) will simply tick the name of the candidate whose party they favour without having any clear idea of what they stand for.
Does any of this matter? Today I think it matters very much indeed. We all know perfectly well that we face a very uncomfortable few years at least. The civil unrest in Greece is a tragic warning of what could happen if we do not face up to the demands of our situation. The concept of the common good is a valuable one, and you do not need to be a philosopher to recognize its implications. They go further than the concerns of our own nation state. At their core is a concern for justice, for right order, which is truly universal. One vote may seem small and insignificant but the strength of our political system rests on an intelligent and responsible use of the vote we have. Civic virtue may not sound very exciting but without it we could all too soon descend into chaos.
Digital Housekeeping
05/May/2010
In the intervals of praying, working and reading (not to mention eating and sleeping), we have been doing a little digital housekeeping. The migration of our blog to the Wordpress engine proceeds at a stately 50 entries a day but will eventually reach a close. When completed, we hope it will resolve the problem of the RSS feed not formatting correctly. We shall probably choose that moment to reveal what is lurking under the "development" tab of the web site . . .
In the meantime, there is a Virtual Chapter tomorrow evening. The theme was suggested by a reader who is trying to work out how to reconcile the interior nature of Christian belief with a missionary faith. That is a question which concerns us all, so we hope there will be some thoughtful insight. For British participants the General Election is concentrating minds on how we engage in and with civil society. Here in the monastery there is the worrying prospect of Digitalnun dusting off her Thomas Aquinas and sitting before the microphone with several weighty tomes open before her. At least that should make her talk less!
We are still open to suggestions for a name for our email newsletter: you can subscribe to the newsletter itself using the sign-up box on the right. The suggestions already received are very imaginative, so there is a high standard to meet.
In the meantime, there is a Virtual Chapter tomorrow evening. The theme was suggested by a reader who is trying to work out how to reconcile the interior nature of Christian belief with a missionary faith. That is a question which concerns us all, so we hope there will be some thoughtful insight. For British participants the General Election is concentrating minds on how we engage in and with civil society. Here in the monastery there is the worrying prospect of Digitalnun dusting off her Thomas Aquinas and sitting before the microphone with several weighty tomes open before her. At least that should make her talk less!
We are still open to suggestions for a name for our email newsletter: you can subscribe to the newsletter itself using the sign-up box on the right. The suggestions already received are very imaginative, so there is a high standard to meet.
The Carthusian Martyrs
04/May/2010
Do such martyrs have anything to teach us today when, rightly, we are all keen to put the polemics of a past age behind us? I think they do. We can honour brave men and women of faith in every generation and learn from their steadfastness. I may give offence to some of my Anglican friends (none is intended) when I say nothing becomes Cranmer so well as his death: he knew nothing could save him by that stage, but he went to the stake with a recantation in his pocket because he was not sure whether that was right. On 6 May we shall be going to the polls. How we use our vote matters. Probably none of the candidates will be "ideal" from our point of view. We shall have to compromise, but the compromise we make must be thoughtfully and carefully worked out. Much is at stake, if not quite as literally as in the case of many of our martyrs.
Fifth Week of Easter
02/May/2010
The fifth week of Easter is precious for many reasons. The chapters of the Last Discourse we read this week are among those best loved by many: the Vine and the branches are one for evermore, and it is good to be able to reflect on the symbolism of the vine, knowing that the agony of the Cross is over. Today, on the feast of SS Philip and James, we sing one of the most beautiful chants in the Gradual, Tanto tempore. Its byzantine intricacies are difficult to sing well but sound glorious when they are. What a pity the weather seems out of tune with so much joy and gladness!
We have been asked for suggestions about how to prepare for the next Virtual Chapter on Thursday evening. The most important text to study is probably Matthew 6, reading which prompted one of our readers to suggest the theme. For those of us in the UK, at least half our attention will be on the General Election; so we might consider what the political parties have had to say about the place (or lack thereof) of faith in society (e.g. Faith schools, the contribution of the Third Sector). We might also look at some of the questions raised by Lord Carey and others about the hostility, real or imagined, towards Christianity in Britain today. (Overseas participants may have some valuable insights to offer from their own experience, but I have to write from a British perspective.) There is also a huge amount of Catholic social teaching one could usefully go through, see here. If anyone else would like to make suggestions, please do.
The Podcast should be recorded later today. However, we have noticed that we often have unexpected callers on Bank Holiday Mondays, so please treat this as a statement of intention, not a firm promise (or threat).
The eagle-eyed will notice that we have added ReCaptcha security coding to our email Prayerline to keep spam levels down. To make it work we have to ask for a valid email address rather than allowing requests to be made entirely anonymously, but we can assure users that everything you write remains completely confidential as before.
We have been asked for suggestions about how to prepare for the next Virtual Chapter on Thursday evening. The most important text to study is probably Matthew 6, reading which prompted one of our readers to suggest the theme. For those of us in the UK, at least half our attention will be on the General Election; so we might consider what the political parties have had to say about the place (or lack thereof) of faith in society (e.g. Faith schools, the contribution of the Third Sector). We might also look at some of the questions raised by Lord Carey and others about the hostility, real or imagined, towards Christianity in Britain today. (Overseas participants may have some valuable insights to offer from their own experience, but I have to write from a British perspective.) There is also a huge amount of Catholic social teaching one could usefully go through, see here. If anyone else would like to make suggestions, please do.
The Podcast should be recorded later today. However, we have noticed that we often have unexpected callers on Bank Holiday Mondays, so please treat this as a statement of intention, not a firm promise (or threat).
The eagle-eyed will notice that we have added ReCaptcha security coding to our email Prayerline to keep spam levels down. To make it work we have to ask for a valid email address rather than allowing requests to be made entirely anonymously, but we can assure users that everything you write remains completely confidential as before.
Novena
01/May/2010
As a community we are not much given to devotions. Humble, persevering prayer in the Bakerite tradition and the luminous beauty of the liturgy are enough. Having said that, there is one devotion (in fact, our ONLY devotion) which has a special place in our hearts: the annual novena to St Joseph. A novena is nine days of prayer during which we ask the intercession of some saint for a special need. We ask with faith and in entire submission to the will of God. In the past we have asked the prayers of St Joseph for peace in the Middle East, for healing for those suffering from AIDS or other illnesses, for reconciliation among families, and so on and so forth. This year we are asking his intercession for an urgent need of our own. If you would like to pray with us, the following short prayer may be useful:
Holy Joseph, faithful follower of Jesus and loving spouse of his mother Mary, we believe that your prayers are powerful with God. We ask you to help us with your intercession, that what we ask in faith may be found pleasing in his sight and may be granted to us from the abundance of his mercy. We thank you for the many blessings we have received through your intercession. Pray for us now that we may become what we most desire to be, perfect disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ: who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.
Newborn
30/April/2010
One of those "ah" moments: a new-born lamb photographed while taking Duncan for a walk this morning. (In case you are wondering, we have put off getting our SLR repaired and have invested in a cheap point-and-shoot to "tide us over": digital equipment is fine until something goes wrong, then one has to decide whether to repair or replace. The latter often works out less expensive, which says something about our disposable society although I am not sure what.)
All week the Shepherd and his flock have dominated our reading of scripture. The shepherd motif is not unique to the Bible, of course. Homer often referred to the Greek chiefs as shepherds of their people; Hammurabi, the king of Babylon, also called himself "shepherd". The shepherd of the Middle East was and is a tough character who must actively manage his flock and face up to all kinds of dangers to ensure its safety and increase. Portrayals of the Good Shepherd tend to gloss over these realities and give us a rather saccharine image. However, we know very well that we behave like sheep more often than we care to admit. We are wilful, have a tendency to wander and become utterly helpless when knocked off balance. This morning's photo did remind me of one thing, however: the sheep too must experience risk and hardships. We tend to forget that childbirth remains a risky process, even here in the west. How much more so where basic hygiene and medical care is at a premium. Let us remember all expectant mothers in our prayers today.
In case you missed yesterday afternoon's blog post, we are setting up an email newsletter. If you would like to receive it, please register below.
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The Right Thing to Do
29/April/2010
Digitalnun will not be listening to tonight's debate between the three main party leaders but she does not mind betting that the phrase "the right thing to do" will be on the lips of one or more of them. Often we do not know what the right thing to do is. We may have to choose between a number of options, none of which is unequivocally the right one. It can be difficult to live with the consequences of a wrong choice. Sometimes it can be even harder to live with the consequences of a right choice which affects others adversely. St Catherine of Siena, whose feast we kept today, was a woman of great integrity, willing to speak her mind to the Pope and anyone else who seemed to be failing to do what they ought. She was a woman of great holiness: immensely charitable and prayerful but not exactly easy to live with. The little circle gathered round her must sometimes have found her sanctity trying. On the other hand, she knew how to encourage others, and that is a great gift. When we do not know what the right thing to do is we can remember one of her favourite sayings: "God does not ask a perfect work but infinite desire."
On a more mundane note, we do not know whether a regular email newsletter is the right thing to do or not, but not everyone has time to check the web site. In any case, some things are better dealt with by email rather than online; so, we are about to launch an email newsletter which will give you all the news that's fit to sprint through the ether. If you would like to receive it, please sign-up. Suggestions for a newsletter name are welcome (provided they are polite, of course). We shall not share your email address with anyone.
Email Newsletter:
On a more mundane note, we do not know whether a regular email newsletter is the right thing to do or not, but not everyone has time to check the web site. In any case, some things are better dealt with by email rather than online; so, we are about to launch an email newsletter which will give you all the news that's fit to sprint through the ether. If you would like to receive it, please sign-up. Suggestions for a newsletter name are welcome (provided they are polite, of course). We shall not share your email address with anyone.
Email Newsletter:
subscribe now
Holy Water
27/April/2010
Filling the holy water stoupe for the oratory this morning, I was struck by the incongruity of the vessel (ugly green bottle) and the label (HOLY WATER, beautifully typeset in one of Jan van Krimpen's exquisite typefaces). Water cleanses, refreshes, sustains life. We cannot live long without it. From the dingiest, dirtiest puddle to the clearest, cleanest river or ocean, water is holy, having been made so by the Lord Jesus when he stepped into the waters of the Jordan to be baptized. All that one understands and loves, but it is the incongruities and contradictions that capture the imagination: the fragility of the water droplet, the ferocity of the tsunami, the beauty and the banality of it all. Water is surely one of the most amazing gifts of God.
We human beings are rather like our humble holy water bottle: not very impressive on the outside, perhaps, but beautiful within (at least, I hope so). We can press the analogy too far, but on this lovely spring morning when the whole of creation seems to be sending up alleluias, we do well to pause for a moment and just say "thank you". Thank you to God for all his gifts, and thank you to our neighbour for all that he or she brings to our life. A few drops of gratitude thrown into the desert of ungratefulness could have a remarkable effect.
We human beings are rather like our humble holy water bottle: not very impressive on the outside, perhaps, but beautiful within (at least, I hope so). We can press the analogy too far, but on this lovely spring morning when the whole of creation seems to be sending up alleluias, we do well to pause for a moment and just say "thank you". Thank you to God for all his gifts, and thank you to our neighbour for all that he or she brings to our life. A few drops of gratitude thrown into the desert of ungratefulness could have a remarkable effect.
Meanderings
26/April/2010
The morning began well but, as often happens on a Monday, had started to deteriorate by 7.00 a.m. Mass had to become a Service of Word and Communion as the monk who was coming to celebrate found that his car would only work in reverse (that must be deeply symbolic, surely?). There were dozens of emails, all needing an answer; and the dog was off his food. Colophon has therefore retired to take stock of the week-end just past.
The foolishness at the FCO seems to have attracted an absurd amount of attention. The internal memo was puerile, certainly; offensive, too, in its muddling of really important things Catholics believe to be wrong (like abortion) with things Catholics have long been actively involved in promoting (like AIDS clinics). It showed the perpetrator to be remarkably ignorant as well as silly. Perhaps the entrance exams for the FCO are easier than they were when Colophon was young (dim memories surface of sheltering under a tree while others constructed a raft in the midst of a downpour: another diplomatic career foundering on the rock of commonsense). Or perhaps diplomacy is no longer considered an art worth practising: boorishness rules, OK? What Colophon found really worrying was the thought that something similar might be written about a future visit by a Muslim head of state/religious leader. The possible consequences are too dreadful to contemplate.
Good Shepherd Sunday passed without a word being spoken about vocation, which shows just how far-reaching the abuse scandal is proving to be. Colophon has made its views known on several occasions so cannot be accused of treating matters superficially when it continues to assert that priestly and religious vocations are a gift from God to his Church, not to be despised or disparaged but earnestly sought and generously fostered. We need people who are willing to give their whole lives to God. So, even if our priests feel that they cannot speak about vocation, we can and must pray for all who are trying to discern God's will. They need encouragement and support. From whom will it come if not from us?
Finally, the letter from the Bishops of England and Wales acknowledging the wrongs that have been done, expressing the sorrow and shame we all feel and calling for special prayer on Fridays during May is to be warmly welcomed. It is exactly the kind of straightforward and honest response we had all been hoping for.
The foolishness at the FCO seems to have attracted an absurd amount of attention. The internal memo was puerile, certainly; offensive, too, in its muddling of really important things Catholics believe to be wrong (like abortion) with things Catholics have long been actively involved in promoting (like AIDS clinics). It showed the perpetrator to be remarkably ignorant as well as silly. Perhaps the entrance exams for the FCO are easier than they were when Colophon was young (dim memories surface of sheltering under a tree while others constructed a raft in the midst of a downpour: another diplomatic career foundering on the rock of commonsense). Or perhaps diplomacy is no longer considered an art worth practising: boorishness rules, OK? What Colophon found really worrying was the thought that something similar might be written about a future visit by a Muslim head of state/religious leader. The possible consequences are too dreadful to contemplate.
Good Shepherd Sunday passed without a word being spoken about vocation, which shows just how far-reaching the abuse scandal is proving to be. Colophon has made its views known on several occasions so cannot be accused of treating matters superficially when it continues to assert that priestly and religious vocations are a gift from God to his Church, not to be despised or disparaged but earnestly sought and generously fostered. We need people who are willing to give their whole lives to God. So, even if our priests feel that they cannot speak about vocation, we can and must pray for all who are trying to discern God's will. They need encouragement and support. From whom will it come if not from us?
Finally, the letter from the Bishops of England and Wales acknowledging the wrongs that have been done, expressing the sorrow and shame we all feel and calling for special prayer on Fridays during May is to be warmly welcomed. It is exactly the kind of straightforward and honest response we had all been hoping for.
Giving the Internet Soul
25/April/2010
Yesterday Pope Benedict XVI addressed the "Digital Witness" Conference (on modern means of mass communication) and had some cheering encouragement for bloggers: give the internet soul! See http://www.radiovaticana.org/EN1/Articolo.asp?c=374892.
The pope is spot on, surely, when he asks us to concentrate on the ways in which we Christians use language and other forms of communication "in the online society". Give the internet soul, YES! Digitalnun agrees heartily, but her eyes began to glaze as she read further: "The dangers of homologation and control, of intellectual and moral relativism are also increasing, as already recognizable in the decline of critical spirit, in truth reduced to a game of opinions, in the many forms of degradation and humiliation of the intimacy of the person." Yes again to the sentiments; but "?" to the expression.
Holy Father, very few English-speakers use words like "homologation" and those who do tend not to be very good at communicating. We are delighted that Rome is taking a positive view of the internet and the possibilities it opens up, but on this Good Shepherd Sunday, when we shall all be thinking and praying about vocation and our mission as Christians, could we put in a plea for more idiomatic and straightforward translations into a language spoken by millions of Catholics throughout the world? Otherwise, Roma locuta est, causa obscura est.
With filial love and respect, a blogging nun.
The pope is spot on, surely, when he asks us to concentrate on the ways in which we Christians use language and other forms of communication "in the online society". Give the internet soul, YES! Digitalnun agrees heartily, but her eyes began to glaze as she read further: "The dangers of homologation and control, of intellectual and moral relativism are also increasing, as already recognizable in the decline of critical spirit, in truth reduced to a game of opinions, in the many forms of degradation and humiliation of the intimacy of the person." Yes again to the sentiments; but "?" to the expression.
Holy Father, very few English-speakers use words like "homologation" and those who do tend not to be very good at communicating. We are delighted that Rome is taking a positive view of the internet and the possibilities it opens up, but on this Good Shepherd Sunday, when we shall all be thinking and praying about vocation and our mission as Christians, could we put in a plea for more idiomatic and straightforward translations into a language spoken by millions of Catholics throughout the world? Otherwise, Roma locuta est, causa obscura est.
With filial love and respect, a blogging nun.
Valuing our Heritage
23/April/2010
At Mass on Wednesday Canon Peter introduced into the penitential rite something I had never heard a priest say before. He encouraged us to repent of "the times we have not valued our heritage". In a week when we celebrate the feasts of St Anselm (Wednesday) and St George (today) that struck a chord.
Catholics are notoriously bad at valuing their heritage. I don't just mean all the senseless destruction of Victorian Gothic which followed in the wake of Vatican II nor the equally senseless destruction of good contemporary design in favour of soulless pastiche which is sometimes a problem today (Digitalnun can be quite as severe about the Fusty and Musty school of church art as she is about the Brutal and Ugly: a pox on both their houses!) Heritage means more than that. It is art and architecture, language and music, of course, but also, and importantly, traditions of place and prayer, a whole way of being. Yes, Mass can be celebrated in a cowshed or a cathedral with great beauty and fervour; the Divine Office can be sung in a fine basilica or in the open air with devotion and skill. We know that. We give time and resources to our buildings, our liturgies, our vestments and so on and so forth, but sometimes we forget or undervalue our history. That's where the traditions of place and prayer come in.
This morning we attended Mass in the private chapel of the Eyston family at Hendred House. It has been in Catholic hands since 1256 and one certainly gets a feeling of generations of Berkshire Catholics praying there through the centuries. There are other places where one has a sense of fading glory, of abandonment, loss and ruin. One thinks of some of the splendid Victorian Gothic churches of the north. Monastic communities in this country have not always given a lead. A Jewish visitor to a Benedictine monastery once remarked that he had a sense of the Shekinah fading over the nearby city (where a community of monks had lived in the middle ages) but still being bright over the village where the nuns were then living. Today he might feel it fading there, too, for the nuns have gone and with them a Catholic presence which stretched back beyond Penal Times. Ichabod.
Heritage is not to be equated with mere conservation, a preservation of the status quo. Like Tradition, it must be alive and active. That is why traditions of place and prayer are worth cherishing, because they help us to a sense of the numinous, of God present, here and now. We look back and we look forward; but we can only know God in the present.
Our next web conference is scheduled to take place on Thursday, 6 May at 7.30 p.m. London time (13.30 EST 14.30 EDT and 18.30 UTC). We shall be looking at how to reconcile the interiority of Christianity with mission. Plenty of time afterwards to catch up on the Election results!
Catholics are notoriously bad at valuing their heritage. I don't just mean all the senseless destruction of Victorian Gothic which followed in the wake of Vatican II nor the equally senseless destruction of good contemporary design in favour of soulless pastiche which is sometimes a problem today (Digitalnun can be quite as severe about the Fusty and Musty school of church art as she is about the Brutal and Ugly: a pox on both their houses!) Heritage means more than that. It is art and architecture, language and music, of course, but also, and importantly, traditions of place and prayer, a whole way of being. Yes, Mass can be celebrated in a cowshed or a cathedral with great beauty and fervour; the Divine Office can be sung in a fine basilica or in the open air with devotion and skill. We know that. We give time and resources to our buildings, our liturgies, our vestments and so on and so forth, but sometimes we forget or undervalue our history. That's where the traditions of place and prayer come in.
This morning we attended Mass in the private chapel of the Eyston family at Hendred House. It has been in Catholic hands since 1256 and one certainly gets a feeling of generations of Berkshire Catholics praying there through the centuries. There are other places where one has a sense of fading glory, of abandonment, loss and ruin. One thinks of some of the splendid Victorian Gothic churches of the north. Monastic communities in this country have not always given a lead. A Jewish visitor to a Benedictine monastery once remarked that he had a sense of the Shekinah fading over the nearby city (where a community of monks had lived in the middle ages) but still being bright over the village where the nuns were then living. Today he might feel it fading there, too, for the nuns have gone and with them a Catholic presence which stretched back beyond Penal Times. Ichabod.
Heritage is not to be equated with mere conservation, a preservation of the status quo. Like Tradition, it must be alive and active. That is why traditions of place and prayer are worth cherishing, because they help us to a sense of the numinous, of God present, here and now. We look back and we look forward; but we can only know God in the present.
Our next web conference is scheduled to take place on Thursday, 6 May at 7.30 p.m. London time (13.30 EST 14.30 EDT and 18.30 UTC). We shall be looking at how to reconcile the interiority of Christianity with mission. Plenty of time afterwards to catch up on the Election results!
Early Rising
20/April/2010
For some, the idea of getting up before the sun has risen above the horizon is a daunting notion. They are not necessarily "owls", just not natural early-risers. Monastic life, however, demands that one should be up and about while the rest of the world is still snuggled into its duvet. Is there any virtue in this, or is it merely a relic of another age, as inconsequential as the colour of one's socks?
One could advance the eco-friendly argument, that making maximum use of natural daylight must be a good thing. The cellarer (bursar) would agree, adding that money not frittered away on artificial light could be better spent elsewhere, "elsewhere" never being defined, for fear she be held to ransom over a rash statement. One could also say that there is a practical advantage in getting up early to read and pray before the telephone starts ringing or people start coming to the door. Having been hauled out of bed by insistent late-night telephone callers three times already this week, I am not as enthusiastic about this as I usually am, although I know it to be true: reading and prayer are best carried out when there is less likelihood of interruption.
But is there a deeper, more spiritual significance to the practice of early rising? I think there is. All monastic traditions have looked upon night and early morning as privileged times of prayer. The Resurrection took place in that mysterious period between darkness and light. To pray at such times is to assert the triumph of good over evil, of Life over death. At a time when the world is unconscious or uncaring, we raise our hands like Moses in intercession for others. Like Moses, too, we know ourselves to be weak and feeble, sustained not by our own power but by Another's. Getting up early never comes easily to some, even after a lifetime's practice; but there is always the hope that, like Mary, we may meet our Saviour "very early, before the sun has yet risen".
One could advance the eco-friendly argument, that making maximum use of natural daylight must be a good thing. The cellarer (bursar) would agree, adding that money not frittered away on artificial light could be better spent elsewhere, "elsewhere" never being defined, for fear she be held to ransom over a rash statement. One could also say that there is a practical advantage in getting up early to read and pray before the telephone starts ringing or people start coming to the door. Having been hauled out of bed by insistent late-night telephone callers three times already this week, I am not as enthusiastic about this as I usually am, although I know it to be true: reading and prayer are best carried out when there is less likelihood of interruption.
But is there a deeper, more spiritual significance to the practice of early rising? I think there is. All monastic traditions have looked upon night and early morning as privileged times of prayer. The Resurrection took place in that mysterious period between darkness and light. To pray at such times is to assert the triumph of good over evil, of Life over death. At a time when the world is unconscious or uncaring, we raise our hands like Moses in intercession for others. Like Moses, too, we know ourselves to be weak and feeble, sustained not by our own power but by Another's. Getting up early never comes easily to some, even after a lifetime's practice; but there is always the hope that, like Mary, we may meet our Saviour "very early, before the sun has yet risen".
Quiet Day
19/April/2010
The Friends of the monastery are holding a Quiet Day here today, beginning with Mass at 10.00 a.m. Many people feel a need for "quiet time" and reflection in their lives, but it can be difficult to achieve. We are all "time-poor", with many conflicting demands on us. Monasteries offer time and space for such reflection, but not everyone is free to visit because of other commitments. That is one reason why we have devised an online retreat programme (postponed following D. Teresa's death): to give people an opportunity to spend some time with God in a structured way, without having to organize time away from home. Please pray for those who will be here today, that it may be a time of refreshment and growth for them all.
Peter's Problem
18/April/2010
I was mooching round the garden early this morning, trying to concentrate my thoughts on holy things (as distinct from my current distractions), when I realised that today's gospel is John 21. There is a great deal in verses 1 to 19 worth commenting on but I leave that to the learned. I am much more interested in Peter's problem.
When the disciple Jesus loved said that the man on the seashore was the Lord, Peter panicked, grabbed his cloak and jumped into the water. (I do not think the conventionally pious explanation, that Peter jumped off the boat in order to get to Jesus more quickly, is anywhere near the truth. Except when becalmed, one does not leap from a boat to reach shore quickly, one stays on it; and if you were Peter, after that terrible betrayal at the trial, I think you'd be alarmed at the thought of meeting him again.) Peter wants to escape Jesus, just as Adam fled at the sound of the Lord's voice in the Garden of Eden. Like Adam, Peter is conscious of his nakedness and hopes his cloak will cover not only his body but also his confusion and shame. He has yet to learn that he cannot escape nor does trying to cover up anything succeed. He is forced to confront his deepest fear: Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, here and now on the seashore.
We shall never know what Peter saw in Jesus' eyes when he reached the shore. Forgiveness? Acceptance? Pain? Characteristically, he bustles about, bringing part of the catch to the barbecue; but there is no escape. The questions come, one after the other, but always with the same theme, "do you love me?" Peter answers truthfully, with a mounting sense of despair that he will ever be able to put things right and assure Jesus of his love. That is precisely his problem, and often it is ours too. WE want to put things right but have to learn, over and over again, that our betrayals and sins are "put right" by the Lord. Yes, we have to consent to his action, but it is he who takes the initiative, he alone who can redeem.
Peter experienced the Lord's forgiveness but it came with the command, "feed my sheep." For us too forgiveness is accompanied by a mission to pass on that forgiveness to others. How we do so may be a puzzle to us, but it should not be a problem. That particular problem was solved two thousand years ago beside the sea of Galilee.
A brief podcast on vocation will be found on the podcast page.
When the disciple Jesus loved said that the man on the seashore was the Lord, Peter panicked, grabbed his cloak and jumped into the water. (I do not think the conventionally pious explanation, that Peter jumped off the boat in order to get to Jesus more quickly, is anywhere near the truth. Except when becalmed, one does not leap from a boat to reach shore quickly, one stays on it; and if you were Peter, after that terrible betrayal at the trial, I think you'd be alarmed at the thought of meeting him again.) Peter wants to escape Jesus, just as Adam fled at the sound of the Lord's voice in the Garden of Eden. Like Adam, Peter is conscious of his nakedness and hopes his cloak will cover not only his body but also his confusion and shame. He has yet to learn that he cannot escape nor does trying to cover up anything succeed. He is forced to confront his deepest fear: Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, here and now on the seashore.
We shall never know what Peter saw in Jesus' eyes when he reached the shore. Forgiveness? Acceptance? Pain? Characteristically, he bustles about, bringing part of the catch to the barbecue; but there is no escape. The questions come, one after the other, but always with the same theme, "do you love me?" Peter answers truthfully, with a mounting sense of despair that he will ever be able to put things right and assure Jesus of his love. That is precisely his problem, and often it is ours too. WE want to put things right but have to learn, over and over again, that our betrayals and sins are "put right" by the Lord. Yes, we have to consent to his action, but it is he who takes the initiative, he alone who can redeem.
Peter experienced the Lord's forgiveness but it came with the command, "feed my sheep." For us too forgiveness is accompanied by a mission to pass on that forgiveness to others. How we do so may be a puzzle to us, but it should not be a problem. That particular problem was solved two thousand years ago beside the sea of Galilee.
A brief podcast on vocation will be found on the podcast page.
Frost and Frore
17/April/2010
Groundfrost has shrivelled our first lettuces while the threat of volcanic ash falling from the sky means that Digitalnun is walking around with an inhaler in her pocket "just in case". Pity those who are REALLY affected, unable to get home or keep urgent appointments for surgery and the like. Pity, too, people in Jiegu who must experience not only the horrors of the earthquake but the biting cold of their homeland. Interesting, isn't it, that the largely Tibetan population have turned to the monks and their traditions for help rather than to the Chinese state? When we feel small and vulnerable, it is the old and familiar which gives comfort; and who has not been edified by the way in which the Tibetan monks have set themselves to help, digging among the ruins and organizing basic relief services?
Many years ago, at the request of the Dalai Lama, two Tibetan monks stayed at our monastery for a year. Philosophically East never quite managed to meet West, but the language of compassion proved universal. It is heart-warming to see it being spoken now in the devasted streets of Jiegu.
Many years ago, at the request of the Dalai Lama, two Tibetan monks stayed at our monastery for a year. Philosophically East never quite managed to meet West, but the language of compassion proved universal. It is heart-warming to see it being spoken now in the devasted streets of Jiegu.
Digital Doodles
14/April/2010
Yesterday did not go quite according to plan. A friend asked help in cleaning up his web site which had been hacked and was being used to download malware. This is one of those situations we all dread. Finding malicious code and security vulnerabilities can take an age, but we had to help. Unfortunately, the problem is not yet resolved and is not being helped by the fact that the site in question was set up in the Netherlands. Whatever you may have thought about American English being the language of cyberspace, it is not true!
After some hours spent cracking code, the afternoon was cheered by the arrival of a small party from the SLG, Oxford, who had come to talk about design software and updating their Press. Some readers will already be familiar with their list of spiritual works. If you are not, I recommend that you have a look at their web site. As always, we who spend most of our lives in silence had not the slightest difficulty in talking nineteen to the dozen about subjects of common interest.
No sooner had the SLG departed than we were plunged into another minor domestic complication. The on-going (nearly three months' long) saga of our changing banks has reached a new and dispiriting low. We now appear to be paying Standing Orders and Direct Debits from both old and new accounts, i.e. twice over, but the kind people who support us with donations directly to our bank account seem not to have been informed of the switch (despite our new bank's promise to tell everyone on our list). There is nothing for it but to try to sort out the muddle ourselves, which will mean a lot of letter-writing. In the circumstances, this blog is likely to fall silent for a day or two.
Digitalnun is now sitting grumpily at the computer. She has often waxed lyrical about acceptance and Christian resignation, but being asked to practise what one preaches will surely test her spirit. We shall see how she fares. In the meantime, a friend has taken photographs of the cross made by Martin Wenham as a temporary marker for D. Teresa's grave. As mentioned before, she is buried under the great west window.
After some hours spent cracking code, the afternoon was cheered by the arrival of a small party from the SLG, Oxford, who had come to talk about design software and updating their Press. Some readers will already be familiar with their list of spiritual works. If you are not, I recommend that you have a look at their web site. As always, we who spend most of our lives in silence had not the slightest difficulty in talking nineteen to the dozen about subjects of common interest.
No sooner had the SLG departed than we were plunged into another minor domestic complication. The on-going (nearly three months' long) saga of our changing banks has reached a new and dispiriting low. We now appear to be paying Standing Orders and Direct Debits from both old and new accounts, i.e. twice over, but the kind people who support us with donations directly to our bank account seem not to have been informed of the switch (despite our new bank's promise to tell everyone on our list). There is nothing for it but to try to sort out the muddle ourselves, which will mean a lot of letter-writing. In the circumstances, this blog is likely to fall silent for a day or two.
Digitalnun is now sitting grumpily at the computer. She has often waxed lyrical about acceptance and Christian resignation, but being asked to practise what one preaches will surely test her spirit. We shall see how she fares. In the meantime, a friend has taken photographs of the cross made by Martin Wenham as a temporary marker for D. Teresa's grave. As mentioned before, she is buried under the great west window.
Grave Cross
12/April/2010
Yesterday our good friends Martin and Chris Wenham visited and brought with them the cross Martin has made to stand at the head of D. Teresa's grave until the memorial stone is put in place next year. In the fitful sunshine of an April afternoon we all went into the churchyard and dug the cross in: it is beautiful, made of English oak, and carved in Martin's distinctive style. (Our camera has broken, so no photos unless or until we can repair or replace it.) It is good to have something so lovely to mark the grave.
Digitalnun's perplexity about the number of business emails received from fellow-Christians on Sundays seems to have struck a chordin others. Perhaps we need to think more about how and when we do things. Benedict has some perceptive remarks about choosing "the appropriate moment" for making a request or approaching a superior, so expect to read a post on this subject soon.
This week's podcast will be posted on Tuesday as we have a lot of catching up to do today.
Digitalnun's perplexity about the number of business emails received from fellow-Christians on Sundays seems to have struck a chordin others. Perhaps we need to think more about how and when we do things. Benedict has some perceptive remarks about choosing "the appropriate moment" for making a request or approaching a superior, so expect to read a post on this subject soon.
This week's podcast will be posted on Tuesday as we have a lot of catching up to do today.
Low Sunday 2010
11/April/2010
Low Sunday or the Octave Day of Easter is particularly poignant this year. The gospel of the day is John 20:19-31. The shewing of Christ's wounds brings Thomas to belief in the Resurrection, acknowledgement that Jesus is Lord. It seems far from this to the wounds that disfigure the Body of Christ today. What can possibly be redemptive about the revelations of recent weeks? Catholics stand accused of vile sins against children and young people and the lame response of many Church officials has done nothing to lessen the sense of betrayal and confusion. Is Colophon going to raise its voice in protest, too?
Not exactly. Notice that I said "Catholics stand accused", not "priests and religious stand accused". We all like to distance ourselves from failure, how much more so from that which is evil. We may be quietly saying inside "There but for the grace of God go I", but our public stance is likely to be horror and outrage at the perpetrators. The trouble is, as St Paul reminds us, the Body of Christ is one and indivisible. We have all fallen short of the glory of God and are all somehow bound up with one another.
Since 2001 the Catholic Church in England and Wales has had some very rigorous procedures in place to try to prevent the abuse of children or vulnerable adults. The case of David Pearce shows how faulty or negligent implementation can make them as good as useless. Do we therefore say, "Scrap the procedures. They are not working", or do we acknowledge that there will always be failures because human nature is not yet perfect? Acceptance of failure is not the same as condoning it. As a Church we must redouble our efforts to protect the vulnerable and to create a culture in which children and young people are truly valued and respected.
The wounds on the body of the Risen Christ are still there, but they have become glorious channels of life and healing. I am not suggesting for one moment that the dreadful things done to children and young people can ever be anything but appalling, but isn't there a possibility that out of this experience something good may come? It is Colophon's hope, as I am sure it must be the hope of many, that a humbler, more open Church may arise from the ashes of our previous over-confidence.
There will probably always be men and women drawn to priesthood and the religious life who do not have the requisite maturity or balance to undertake its obligations. Sadly, I have known some of them. But there are also saints; and I have known some of them, too. Many good Catholics are suffering today for the sins of others. Let us not forget them as we try to make sense of what is happening in and to the Church. Today's gospel is full of hope: sin and death are not the end of the story but the beginning. On us too let us ask the Lord to breathe his Holy Spirit.
Not exactly. Notice that I said "Catholics stand accused", not "priests and religious stand accused". We all like to distance ourselves from failure, how much more so from that which is evil. We may be quietly saying inside "There but for the grace of God go I", but our public stance is likely to be horror and outrage at the perpetrators. The trouble is, as St Paul reminds us, the Body of Christ is one and indivisible. We have all fallen short of the glory of God and are all somehow bound up with one another.
Since 2001 the Catholic Church in England and Wales has had some very rigorous procedures in place to try to prevent the abuse of children or vulnerable adults. The case of David Pearce shows how faulty or negligent implementation can make them as good as useless. Do we therefore say, "Scrap the procedures. They are not working", or do we acknowledge that there will always be failures because human nature is not yet perfect? Acceptance of failure is not the same as condoning it. As a Church we must redouble our efforts to protect the vulnerable and to create a culture in which children and young people are truly valued and respected.
The wounds on the body of the Risen Christ are still there, but they have become glorious channels of life and healing. I am not suggesting for one moment that the dreadful things done to children and young people can ever be anything but appalling, but isn't there a possibility that out of this experience something good may come? It is Colophon's hope, as I am sure it must be the hope of many, that a humbler, more open Church may arise from the ashes of our previous over-confidence.
There will probably always be men and women drawn to priesthood and the religious life who do not have the requisite maturity or balance to undertake its obligations. Sadly, I have known some of them. But there are also saints; and I have known some of them, too. Many good Catholics are suffering today for the sins of others. Let us not forget them as we try to make sense of what is happening in and to the Church. Today's gospel is full of hope: sin and death are not the end of the story but the beginning. On us too let us ask the Lord to breathe his Holy Spirit.
Veilaudio, the CNR and Life
10/April/2010
It's not every day we appear in the Catholic National Register (see http://ow.ly/171ECS), but it's worth mentioning because Matthew Warner has clearly understood not only what we are doing but why: using technology to share our vocation with the world. Thank you, Matthew, I think you have given us a new strapline for our web site!
Matthew's words have set Digitalnun thinking about some of the ways in which our community differs from others. For example, our Associates, Oblates and Friends are an integral part of our "monastic enterprise", not just a nice extra. During recent weeks this has been very evident in the relaunching of Veilaudio (formerly St Cecilia's Guild).
When D. Teresa died she took to the grave with her a great deal of information about the audio book service. We all tend to store things in our heads or jot down coded messages incomprehensible to others on the backs of envelopes or in a digital Shovebox. D. Teresa was no exception; so, for the last few weeks, two of our Friends have been patiently and painstakingly working their way through the Upper Room which houses most of the audio library. They have pieced together a list of members' names and addresses, sorted through hundreds of cassettes, fathomed the mysteries of the archaic cataloguing system and begun transferring records to something safer and more easily upgradeable. Every user of the service should now have received a letter explaining what we are doing. Meanwhile, another Friend has completed exhaustive tests on the digital recording equipment we are hoping to buy for those who record books for us, and a visually impaired Friend has been experimenting with some of the new audio formats we shall be introducing. In the process, redundant equipment has been identified and disposed of and clutter eliminated. On the down side, we realise just how much we miss D. Teresa's unique "take" on things, her unsurpassed ability to befriend elderly and isolated people, and her genius for choosing books to record.
Our next task will be to decide which titles we shall be recording this year. Hitherto we have managed to produce roughly one new audio book every fortnight, and we'd like to keep that up although there will inevitably be a hiatus until we have everything working properly. At the same time, we shall have to do some serious fund-raising if we are to keep Veilaudio a free service. Watch this space, as they say.
Finally, many thanks to those who have responded to our request for suggested times/dates for our next web conference. If you haven't yet done so, there is still time. The subject will be reconciling the interiority of Christianity with the demands of a missionary Faith (cfr Matthew 6 and what we do on Ash Wednesday). If you live in the U.S. dialling directly into Talkshoe may be easier than using the VOIP option we Europeans resort to.
Matthew's words have set Digitalnun thinking about some of the ways in which our community differs from others. For example, our Associates, Oblates and Friends are an integral part of our "monastic enterprise", not just a nice extra. During recent weeks this has been very evident in the relaunching of Veilaudio (formerly St Cecilia's Guild).
When D. Teresa died she took to the grave with her a great deal of information about the audio book service. We all tend to store things in our heads or jot down coded messages incomprehensible to others on the backs of envelopes or in a digital Shovebox. D. Teresa was no exception; so, for the last few weeks, two of our Friends have been patiently and painstakingly working their way through the Upper Room which houses most of the audio library. They have pieced together a list of members' names and addresses, sorted through hundreds of cassettes, fathomed the mysteries of the archaic cataloguing system and begun transferring records to something safer and more easily upgradeable. Every user of the service should now have received a letter explaining what we are doing. Meanwhile, another Friend has completed exhaustive tests on the digital recording equipment we are hoping to buy for those who record books for us, and a visually impaired Friend has been experimenting with some of the new audio formats we shall be introducing. In the process, redundant equipment has been identified and disposed of and clutter eliminated. On the down side, we realise just how much we miss D. Teresa's unique "take" on things, her unsurpassed ability to befriend elderly and isolated people, and her genius for choosing books to record.
Our next task will be to decide which titles we shall be recording this year. Hitherto we have managed to produce roughly one new audio book every fortnight, and we'd like to keep that up although there will inevitably be a hiatus until we have everything working properly. At the same time, we shall have to do some serious fund-raising if we are to keep Veilaudio a free service. Watch this space, as they say.
Finally, many thanks to those who have responded to our request for suggested times/dates for our next web conference. If you haven't yet done so, there is still time. The subject will be reconciling the interiority of Christianity with the demands of a missionary Faith (cfr Matthew 6 and what we do on Ash Wednesday). If you live in the U.S. dialling directly into Talkshoe may be easier than using the VOIP option we Europeans resort to.
Web Conference Plans
09/April/2010
You may remember that a while ago we were asked if we would devote one of our web conferences to exploring a question prompted by Ash Wednesday's gospel, Matthew 6: how do we reconcile the demands of a missionary Faith with the interiority of Christianity. We are happy to do that, but we need to set a time and date that would be convenient for those who would like to participate. So, please would you email us, suggesting a date and time that would suit YOU (please indicate your time zone so we can do the necessary calculations).
Digitalnun has been exploring some alternative web conference software, but we'll stick with Talkshoe for the time being. Please remember that if you wish to join in the discussion, it is better to use a headset with earphones and microphone rather than relying on the inbuilt microphone in your computer.
Digitalnun has been exploring some alternative web conference software, but we'll stick with Talkshoe for the time being. Please remember that if you wish to join in the discussion, it is better to use a headset with earphones and microphone rather than relying on the inbuilt microphone in your computer.
The Easter Octave
08/April/2010
Our house diary tells the story plainly enough: the Easter Octave is crammed with appointments, visits and business of various kinds. Of course we are always glad to welcome people, especially when they wish to join us in prayer, but often we have little choice in matters; as to the more "commercial" side of things, neither the monastery nor its charitable works can be sustained by pious wishes alone so we cannot just "shut up shop" for a week. But the Easter Octave is too precious to waste on things that can be done at other times. Every year we try to make sure that it retains its religious character, and every year we wonder whether we have tried hard enough.
It does not really matter where we look for the origins of the octave, e.g. the dedication of Solomon's temple on the eighth day, Early Christian baptismal practice, or the dedication of Constantine's churches in Tyre and Jerusalem in the fourth century. What matters is what the octave has become in Christian thought and practice. It is a privileged time for teasing out, as it were, all the richness of the great event we are celebrating. The Triduum is so full of drama, the liturgy so demanding, that one really needs eight days in which to reflect on the Resurrection. It is good that during these days we hear the different resurrection narratives in their proper context and are able to sing the psalms with a sense of completion, of victory won.
Perhaps the very busyness of the Easter Octave is an opportunity to ask ourselves what it means to be a Benedictine today, to live with the tension, so to say, of being contemplative in a world that is anything but. I am reminded yet again of the "eye of the storm" idea. It is, paradoxically, at the heart of the tempest that the deepest peace and stillness is to be sought and found. Maybe that is what is being asked of all of us, whatever our state in life, this Octave.
It does not really matter where we look for the origins of the octave, e.g. the dedication of Solomon's temple on the eighth day, Early Christian baptismal practice, or the dedication of Constantine's churches in Tyre and Jerusalem in the fourth century. What matters is what the octave has become in Christian thought and practice. It is a privileged time for teasing out, as it were, all the richness of the great event we are celebrating. The Triduum is so full of drama, the liturgy so demanding, that one really needs eight days in which to reflect on the Resurrection. It is good that during these days we hear the different resurrection narratives in their proper context and are able to sing the psalms with a sense of completion, of victory won.
Perhaps the very busyness of the Easter Octave is an opportunity to ask ourselves what it means to be a Benedictine today, to live with the tension, so to say, of being contemplative in a world that is anything but. I am reminded yet again of the "eye of the storm" idea. It is, paradoxically, at the heart of the tempest that the deepest peace and stillness is to be sought and found. Maybe that is what is being asked of all of us, whatever our state in life, this Octave.
Trials and Tribulations
06/April/2010
We had a lovely day on Easter Monday, with Mass and lunch at Douai Abbey, and a chance to look round the new library building. Digitalnun's eyes had that kind of green glow which in another would be envy, but in her was, of course, the most generous and selfless admiration (believe that if you will. Ed.). Easter Tuesday brought us Fr Boniface and a beautifully simple Mass in our oratory, with friends from the village and slightly further afield, followed by a trip over the Downs to the dentist (never a hardship), and several hours work at the computer dealing with all the things that came in from Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday.
It always amuses us that as soon as some great Christian festival approaches, we receive a lot of work from people who are preparing to celebrate the feast/just setting off on holiday and would like to have everything finished when they return. Quite when we are supposed to do all this work, given that we are celebrating the feast too, is never made clear. This year we seem to have more than usual to get through and some of it has involved confronting the darker side of the web (we have been asked to help people whose sites have been hacked, not nice, not nice at all). In between times, i.e. when we should have been sleeping or eating, we have been begun sorting through D. Teresa's things, welcomed visitors and tried to keep up with Veilaiudio (thank heavens for our Friends, who are doing most of the work there) AND dealt with the ongoing saga of changing banks. If you too are thinking of changing banks, consider this and be warned.
In January we decided that the service we had been receiving from our old bank did not justify the charges we were being asked to pay so we began the process of moving everything to another. Little did we expect that more than two months later the process would still be far from complete, that extracting information from our old bank would be like drawing blood from stones and that we would face 1 April not knowing which bank would be paying which standing order. Digitalnun's desk is always covered with paper but it has never been quite so difficult to work out which pile concerns which problem. On the plus side, our almost daily conversations with a succession of courteous and helpful Head Office staff at the new bank have done much to restore our faith in human nature. We have received an abundance of "the good word" if nothing else. I know we should be grateful. If the sun shines today, we shall even feel grateful; but it would be such a relief to have the business concluded. Funny how things like this can can assume such gigantic proportions, isn't it?
It always amuses us that as soon as some great Christian festival approaches, we receive a lot of work from people who are preparing to celebrate the feast/just setting off on holiday and would like to have everything finished when they return. Quite when we are supposed to do all this work, given that we are celebrating the feast too, is never made clear. This year we seem to have more than usual to get through and some of it has involved confronting the darker side of the web (we have been asked to help people whose sites have been hacked, not nice, not nice at all). In between times, i.e. when we should have been sleeping or eating, we have been begun sorting through D. Teresa's things, welcomed visitors and tried to keep up with Veilaiudio (thank heavens for our Friends, who are doing most of the work there) AND dealt with the ongoing saga of changing banks. If you too are thinking of changing banks, consider this and be warned.
In January we decided that the service we had been receiving from our old bank did not justify the charges we were being asked to pay so we began the process of moving everything to another. Little did we expect that more than two months later the process would still be far from complete, that extracting information from our old bank would be like drawing blood from stones and that we would face 1 April not knowing which bank would be paying which standing order. Digitalnun's desk is always covered with paper but it has never been quite so difficult to work out which pile concerns which problem. On the plus side, our almost daily conversations with a succession of courteous and helpful Head Office staff at the new bank have done much to restore our faith in human nature. We have received an abundance of "the good word" if nothing else. I know we should be grateful. If the sun shines today, we shall even feel grateful; but it would be such a relief to have the business concluded. Funny how things like this can can assume such gigantic proportions, isn't it?
Aleluia, alleluia, alleluia
05/April/2010
Christ is risen, alleluia! Those words have rung out from countless churches and chapels throughout the centuries as they ring out today. He is risen indeed, alleluia! For eight days we shall celebrate Easter day, then for six weeks more we shall celebrate the Easter season. All the sin and shabbiness which disfigures our lives is redeemed, transformed by the love poured out upon us. The Resurrection is too big to be grasped, we can only kneel in wonder at God's amazing, reckless generosity. Today, when we are all tired after the drama of the Triduum, the splendour of the liturgy, the sheer effort involved in making Easter a day of celebration, we do well to rest if we can. To rest in God is to allow him full scope to act, and isn't that what we most desire?
For those who expressed an interest in a plainsong ringtone, here is a little Easter present for you. Right click the image to download the linked file and save to your desktop, then transfer to your mobile via bluetooth or USB cable (the sound quality is not brilliant, but that keeps the file size small).
Paschal Triduum 2010
01/April/2010
At midday today we shall celebrate a passover meal by way of preparation for tonight's Mass. From then on our liturgy will revert to a very ancient and simple form, devoid of the usual embellishments. The great themes we shall be considering need only the plainest of settings.
I like the fact that at midday on Good Friday and Holy Saturday we sing the whole of psalm 118 (119) straight through. It is a great dance around the Law, but on both days it takes on a different character. Sung on Good Friday, words which at other times are so beautiful are like the hammering of nails; on Holy Saturday they have the bleakness of death. The same is true for other elements in the liturgy, too. Throughout these days it is our custom to read the Last Discourse from St John's Gospel as evening falls. With the waning of the light, the words take on a solemnity they sometimes seem to lack when read at other hours. The oratory will be stark and bare: waiting, waiting.
This year we shall not be blogging during the Triduum: we all need a little time to reflect. So, no distractions, no seeking ways of escape: we must go into the tomb if we wish to rise with Christ on Easter morning. May you be greatly blessed this Easter.
I like the fact that at midday on Good Friday and Holy Saturday we sing the whole of psalm 118 (119) straight through. It is a great dance around the Law, but on both days it takes on a different character. Sung on Good Friday, words which at other times are so beautiful are like the hammering of nails; on Holy Saturday they have the bleakness of death. The same is true for other elements in the liturgy, too. Throughout these days it is our custom to read the Last Discourse from St John's Gospel as evening falls. With the waning of the light, the words take on a solemnity they sometimes seem to lack when read at other hours. The oratory will be stark and bare: waiting, waiting.
This year we shall not be blogging during the Triduum: we all need a little time to reflect. So, no distractions, no seeking ways of escape: we must go into the tomb if we wish to rise with Christ on Easter morning. May you be greatly blessed this Easter.
Day of Preparation
31/March/2010
The Triduum, the solemn three days on which we remember the Lord's betrayal, death and resurrection, begins tomorrow evening with the Mass of the Lord's Supper, so today is a day of preparation. How those words are overlaid with resonances from the gospel accounts of the crucifixion! Already we are part of the gospel story.
For us, the public face of preparation is largely a matter of cleaning, cooking and "running through" different elements of the liturgy. But what about the private face? Whatever sort of Lent we may have had, whether we have been fervent or lackadaisical, today presents a great opportunity to focus on what really matters: to give some time to prayer, to fast, to give alms, to get into the rhythm, so to say, of Holy Week.
Each day of the Triduum forms part of one great whole: it is a single Liturgy that unfolds in three parts. We begin the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Maundy Thursday with Paul's words about glorying in the cross of Christ; Mass ends without the usual blessing and dismissal, because we are expected to be present at the next phase, the Solemn Liturgy of Good Friday afternoon. The Good Friday Liturgy looks forward to the resurrection and again leads naturally to the Great Vigil on Easter night. Only then will there be a blessing and dismissal, because with the Easter Vigil we reach the summit of the Christian year.
Betrayal, Death and Resurrection: that is what we see when we look at Jesus as he passes through his Triduum. When we look at ourselves, we wonder what he can see in us to merit what he has given: his very self in the Eucharist and in the Priesthood, Redemption and Eternal Life. As we shall sing on Easter night, " to ransom a slave, you gave away your Son." Our day of preparation might include a few minutes spent thinking about that.
For us, the public face of preparation is largely a matter of cleaning, cooking and "running through" different elements of the liturgy. But what about the private face? Whatever sort of Lent we may have had, whether we have been fervent or lackadaisical, today presents a great opportunity to focus on what really matters: to give some time to prayer, to fast, to give alms, to get into the rhythm, so to say, of Holy Week.
Each day of the Triduum forms part of one great whole: it is a single Liturgy that unfolds in three parts. We begin the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Maundy Thursday with Paul's words about glorying in the cross of Christ; Mass ends without the usual blessing and dismissal, because we are expected to be present at the next phase, the Solemn Liturgy of Good Friday afternoon. The Good Friday Liturgy looks forward to the resurrection and again leads naturally to the Great Vigil on Easter night. Only then will there be a blessing and dismissal, because with the Easter Vigil we reach the summit of the Christian year.
Betrayal, Death and Resurrection: that is what we see when we look at Jesus as he passes through his Triduum. When we look at ourselves, we wonder what he can see in us to merit what he has given: his very self in the Eucharist and in the Priesthood, Redemption and Eternal Life. As we shall sing on Easter night, " to ransom a slave, you gave away your Son." Our day of preparation might include a few minutes spent thinking about that.
Holy Week 2010
30/March/2010
Holy Week is not a time for many words. Last year we said little but used a few favourite images, accompanied by a line or two of poetry. Anything more would have been superfluous. At its deepest and purest prayer is without words, without images, "a simple, naked intent unto God." That is the prayer of Holy Week, the prayer of Jesus on the Cross. It is the prayer we try to make our own as this week passes.
Palm Sunday 2010
28/March/2010
Today we begin Holy Week, the Great Week of the Year, with the blessing of palms which we will carry in triumphant procession to the church. The joyful note sounded by the Gospel of the Entrance into Jerusalem will change to a darker one as we listen to the Passion narrative. This sudden transition from light to darkness is something we will encounter again and again as Holy Week unfolds. We know that at the end is Resurrection and perfect joy and peace; but as the week goes on we cannot avoid going deeper and deeper into the mystery and misery of sin and death. To live Holy Week well is to go with Christ step by step through all the events of his last days on earth, to experience within ourselves the tormenting knowledge of misunderstanding and rejection and yet forgive.
This year the Church is asked to go through Holy Week carrying the burden of a self-knowledge many find deeply distressing. The revelations about abuse and cover-ups may have been hyped by the media but no one with any integrity is going to use that as an excuse for not confronting this darkness within the Church. For contemplatives there is an added dimension to the suffering: we are called to make reparation in ways that few understand. It is a part of our vocation that is not often alluded to, probably because it has to be lived before it can be explained. This week we are called to live with an intensity unknown at other times of the year.
Over Holy Week hangs a great sadness but a great confidence, too. Christ our Lord has taken upon himself every sin and forgiven them all. We cannot change the past but it can be redeemed. We can "go and sin no more". Let us pray for the whole Church, that we may become what we are meant to be: a people purified and fit for the Kingdom of God.
This year the Church is asked to go through Holy Week carrying the burden of a self-knowledge many find deeply distressing. The revelations about abuse and cover-ups may have been hyped by the media but no one with any integrity is going to use that as an excuse for not confronting this darkness within the Church. For contemplatives there is an added dimension to the suffering: we are called to make reparation in ways that few understand. It is a part of our vocation that is not often alluded to, probably because it has to be lived before it can be explained. This week we are called to live with an intensity unknown at other times of the year.
Over Holy Week hangs a great sadness but a great confidence, too. Christ our Lord has taken upon himself every sin and forgiven them all. We cannot change the past but it can be redeemed. We can "go and sin no more". Let us pray for the whole Church, that we may become what we are meant to be: a people purified and fit for the Kingdom of God.
A Lesson Learned
27/March/2010
I should have realised how unwise yesterday's blog post was. Just before lunch we went into the garage and discovered that a minor disaster had struck. The boxes of books we had stored there for want of space elsewhere were wet, from the ground up. Consternation! Then an unexpected visitor called so naturally we offered her lunch (not an onerous task, she was very welcome, but we were distracted and I fear it showed). Finally, we were able to get into the garage to start moving boxes and assess the damage. It was a sad sight: Digitalnun was wearing the kind of expression she reserves for sick dogs and ailing plants, while Handynun was "tsk" "tsk"ing about having yet another area to clear up (we have a leaking radiator inside the house which has been bothersome all week). A little investigation revealed the cause of the trouble, but drying out dozens and dozens of damp books is not going to be easy. Gloom settled upon the community, especially as there are other urgent tasks to be done. I think there may even have been one or two baby grumbles rumbling up from the depths.
Then we noticed a book with Haiti in the title and were ashamed. Yes, our loss is real, but it in no way compares with the loss the people of Haiti have experienced or the difficulties they face every day. We treasure our books, but we shouldn't invest so much of our hearts in them. The gospel is clear about that kind of thing. We dream of having more space, of being able to do things that are at present impossible; and I am confident that one day we shall; but for now we must relearn the lesson. In small things as in big, God is in charge. Sometimes you just have to begin all over again.
Then we noticed a book with Haiti in the title and were ashamed. Yes, our loss is real, but it in no way compares with the loss the people of Haiti have experienced or the difficulties they face every day. We treasure our books, but we shouldn't invest so much of our hearts in them. The gospel is clear about that kind of thing. We dream of having more space, of being able to do things that are at present impossible; and I am confident that one day we shall; but for now we must relearn the lesson. In small things as in big, God is in charge. Sometimes you just have to begin all over again.
A Printer's Rant
26/March/2010
Let others rave and rant about what they will, Digitalnun has a bugbear of her own: printing. One of the downsides of the proliferation of computers and applications is that most people seem to think there is "nothing to it". A quick bash in Word, or a dip into Publisher, and there you are: a document that can easily be turned into print and look wonderful into the bargain. Alas, dear reader, no. If you are Enlightened and use a Mac, the chances are that you can produce something that will look quite good and which, with a bit of professional tweaking, can be made to look even better; but if you are serious about printing, you will have to start thinking about the principles of design and the technicalities of the printing process.
So, before you send me your book and tell me to print it "just as it is", please consider this. When we set out to design a book we begin with pencil and paper, protractor and set square, and map out the page size, text block and margins. We think about the typeface (note the singular: a mark of bad design is an abundance of typefaces spattered across the page), the illustrations, the kind of paper to be used and the colour of the ink (black inks differ from one another and change appearance depending what they are printed on). Above all, we think about the content and how it will be used.
We look at the illustrations and the screening, correcting tints in photographs, cropping and enhancing. We check for things like transparency; change to vector art where appropriate; make sure that everything will output as it should. This takes time, and the equipment used is expensive. Quite often, trying to put right what others did wrong takes longer than starting afresh, but it is difficult to convince people of this, so we do not always try; although Digitalnun is usually patient about explaining why things that look marvellous on screen can look disappointing on the printed page. It can be very hard work.
Why do we bother? Printing is one of the invisible arts: you will know when it is well done because nothing will jar, nothing will scream at you, "look at me! me! me!" There is an integrity about the well-printed page that sits well with monastic life. For fifteen hundred years Benedictine monks and nuns have worked with words: writing them, printing them, digitizing them. The internet is opening up even more opportunities for allowing words to speak eloquently to us. It is worth taking trouble about them.
So, before you send me your book and tell me to print it "just as it is", please consider this. When we set out to design a book we begin with pencil and paper, protractor and set square, and map out the page size, text block and margins. We think about the typeface (note the singular: a mark of bad design is an abundance of typefaces spattered across the page), the illustrations, the kind of paper to be used and the colour of the ink (black inks differ from one another and change appearance depending what they are printed on). Above all, we think about the content and how it will be used.
We look at the illustrations and the screening, correcting tints in photographs, cropping and enhancing. We check for things like transparency; change to vector art where appropriate; make sure that everything will output as it should. This takes time, and the equipment used is expensive. Quite often, trying to put right what others did wrong takes longer than starting afresh, but it is difficult to convince people of this, so we do not always try; although Digitalnun is usually patient about explaining why things that look marvellous on screen can look disappointing on the printed page. It can be very hard work.
Why do we bother? Printing is one of the invisible arts: you will know when it is well done because nothing will jar, nothing will scream at you, "look at me! me! me!" There is an integrity about the well-printed page that sits well with monastic life. For fifteen hundred years Benedictine monks and nuns have worked with words: writing them, printing them, digitizing them. The internet is opening up even more opportunities for allowing words to speak eloquently to us. It is worth taking trouble about them.
Annunciation 2010
25/March/2010
The Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord is one of the most attractive feasts in the Church calendar. There is always something fresh to ponder in Luke's account (1.26-38), while the abundance of music, poetry and art devoted to this subject is amazing. We must not lose sight of the fact, however, that we are remembering an event in history which was to have consequences for us all. Our salvation, and that of the whole world, hung upon the readiness of an obscure young girl (perhaps as young as twelve or thirteen) to do what God asked of her. All the Fathers agree that Mary's consent was necessary for the Redemption to take place. That does not mean that God would not have redeemed us had Mary not given her consent but that God foresaw her acceptance from all eternity (cfr St Thomas, Summa III.30). It was indeed a moment of unequalled faith: of Mary in God, and of God in Mary.
Recently I learned that there is a delightful legend said to come from Nazareth. The Angel Gabriel found Mary sitting by a fountain. Not surprisingly, his appearance startled her and she fled from him in fear. He followed her into the house to deliver his message, which is why the Annunciation is often depicted as taking place inside. In fact, the iconography of the Annunciation is a fascinating study in itself. Early Christian depictions usually show Gabriel as an angel of the Old Testament, severe and terrifying, before whom Mary kneels tremblingly. From about the twelfth century onwards, a new lyricism transforms the scene. The stiff hieratic forms yield to something much more youthful and human. Now Gabriel kneels before Mary. To be the Mother of God is to be exalted above the angels. Paradoxically, it is Mary's humility and obedience that lifts her so high.
A podcast about the Annunciation has been posted here.
Muddled Thoughts
24/March/2010
Digitlnun has been having a trying time recently, in both senses of the word; but she bounded out of bed this morning, full of enthusiasm for Lent, "looking forward to the holy feast of Easter with joy and spiritual longing" and then fell a-cropper when she looked at her inbox. Alongside the heart-rending appeals for prayer, the business emails, the rants about the Catholic Church and its members (no, I am not a pervert; and yes, I do believe that what the Catholic Church teaches is true), the tacky bits of spam and the ads for huge German printing presses (Heidelberg, I love your machines but we don't have room or money for any), there was a thought-provoking message about Archbishop Oscar Romero.
This is the anniversary of the day on which Romero was gunned down at the altar. He knew that he was likely to die and had already forgiven those who would do the deed. Most people think of him as a brave man who changed from being a pillar of the establishment to one who openly questioned whether the inequalities of the society in which he lived were justified and who worked tirelessly for social justice. My questioner asked why the Catholic Church had been "so ambivalent" (his words) about Romero for so long. I think it is a valid question.
Martyrdom, as the Church understands it, is to give one's life for Christ and for the truth of his teaching. Some have tried a little chop-logic on Romero, arguing that he died for something other than that. None of us knows what was in his heart and mind at the moment of death, any more than we know what was in the heart or mind of the man who shot him; but it seems reasonable to suppose that a priest saying Mass was focused on what he was doing, that as the gun rang out God was all in all.
I do not know if Oscar Romero was a martyr or not; but I do know that this morning his courage and generosity have made me feel a little shabby, a little cowardly. I do not live in daily expectation of being murdered, but I grunt and groan about the petty inconveniences of life as though they were important. I am not sure that anyone would find enough evidence to convict me of "working tirelessly for social justice". There is a danger in concentrating on one's own shortcomings, however. I do not expect to become a martyr, but who knows what God may ask, what grace he may give. I must be ready even here, in dear old England. After all, I have vowed my life to him.
This is the anniversary of the day on which Romero was gunned down at the altar. He knew that he was likely to die and had already forgiven those who would do the deed. Most people think of him as a brave man who changed from being a pillar of the establishment to one who openly questioned whether the inequalities of the society in which he lived were justified and who worked tirelessly for social justice. My questioner asked why the Catholic Church had been "so ambivalent" (his words) about Romero for so long. I think it is a valid question.
Martyrdom, as the Church understands it, is to give one's life for Christ and for the truth of his teaching. Some have tried a little chop-logic on Romero, arguing that he died for something other than that. None of us knows what was in his heart and mind at the moment of death, any more than we know what was in the heart or mind of the man who shot him; but it seems reasonable to suppose that a priest saying Mass was focused on what he was doing, that as the gun rang out God was all in all.
I do not know if Oscar Romero was a martyr or not; but I do know that this morning his courage and generosity have made me feel a little shabby, a little cowardly. I do not live in daily expectation of being murdered, but I grunt and groan about the petty inconveniences of life as though they were important. I am not sure that anyone would find enough evidence to convict me of "working tirelessly for social justice". There is a danger in concentrating on one's own shortcomings, however. I do not expect to become a martyr, but who knows what God may ask, what grace he may give. I must be ready even here, in dear old England. After all, I have vowed my life to him.
St Benedict 2010
22/March/2010
Meanwhile, over at the Vatican, there is at last an official Vatican News Twitter feed. Six in fact: for the English language version look for news-va-en. There is also a new web site for "Vatican Resources" at http://www.resources.va/. Both the Twitter accounts and the Resources site are currently dominated by the abuse scandals, which is telling. Here in the UK people have been quick to comment on the Pope's letter, often negatively, but the whole subject seems to be generating more heat than light. The anti-Catholic feeling finding expression in the media is nothing new, but if it were directed at any other group in society might be found unacceptable. There is a danger that some will react to the negativity rather than tackle the underlying issues. May St Benedict help us with his prayers to listen to what the Holy Spirit is saying to the Church.
On Saying Thank-You
20/March/2010
While tidying my desk late last night (or early this morning, if you prefer), I came across a thank-you letter I wrote weeks ago but failed to send. My blush would have melted the North Pole! It is not enough to be grateful, one must show it in some way. Quite often in community it falls to me to express thanks on behalf of all, and I freely admit I find it difficult to keep up with everything and everyone. I am sure this sometimes leads to wounded feelings or the sense of not being valued. The urgent and the important do not always coincide, as we all know, and I often fail to choose what is important.
Thinking about one's own shortcomings is not good for the temper, so it was a relief to catch sight of one of the books in my room: a book of Jewish blessings in which there is a blessing for every conceivable occasion. See the sun or the moon? Bless God. See a new animal or taste a new food? Bless God. Go to bed or rise up? Bless God. In the Rule of St Benedict, every important action in community is accompanied by a blessing: before we read, before we serve in the kitchen, when we receive a guest. It is harder to bless God when painful things happen, but who has not struggled in the face of death to say, "Blessed be the Lord who has given and who has taken away"?
The abuse scandals coming to light in the Catholic Church have caused much anguish. Readers of this blog will know exactly where we stand so will understand when I say that even for this we must bless God. Bless him not for the pain or the destruction of trust, but in the midst of the pain and destruction. Bless him for coming upon us as purifying fire. Bless him above all for being God and loving us despite our failure and our shame. It is when we are least lovable that we need his love most.
Thinking about one's own shortcomings is not good for the temper, so it was a relief to catch sight of one of the books in my room: a book of Jewish blessings in which there is a blessing for every conceivable occasion. See the sun or the moon? Bless God. See a new animal or taste a new food? Bless God. Go to bed or rise up? Bless God. In the Rule of St Benedict, every important action in community is accompanied by a blessing: before we read, before we serve in the kitchen, when we receive a guest. It is harder to bless God when painful things happen, but who has not struggled in the face of death to say, "Blessed be the Lord who has given and who has taken away"?
The abuse scandals coming to light in the Catholic Church have caused much anguish. Readers of this blog will know exactly where we stand so will understand when I say that even for this we must bless God. Bless him not for the pain or the destruction of trust, but in the midst of the pain and destruction. Bless him for coming upon us as purifying fire. Bless him above all for being God and loving us despite our failure and our shame. It is when we are least lovable that we need his love most.
St Joseph
19/March/2010
St Joseph has not had an easy time. The Early Church largely ignored him save for drawing parallels with the Joseph of the Old Testament. In the Middle Ages he was often treated as a figure of fun while in the nineteenth century he was frequently portrayed with mawkish sentimentality. Of course there have been honourable exceptions to all these generalisations. Bossuet, for example, wrote well of him, with a firm, clear idea of his importance in the Christian story. Today we tend to see in Joseph the good husband and father, the man who quietly got on with whatever was asked of him and who fades from view just when we should like to know more.
Humilty and persevering fidelity to the task in hand are not spectacular qualities but they are very necessary to the good order of both family and society. I am not alone in thinking that fatherhood does not seem to be properly valued today, and I find it troubling. We may be learning to our cost that single-parent families are hard on both parents and children, but there seems to be an inbuilt presumption that mothering is more important than fathering. I wonder. Good fathering is important to both boys and girls, we all agree, but perhaps even struggling, incompetent and not very assured fathering is better than no fathering at all.
So, take heart if you are a father and don't feel that you are making a very good fist of it. Your child needs you, just as you are. Would Jesus of Nazareth have been the person he was without both Joseph and Mary to help him towards adulthood? Did they never make mistakes, get things wrong? Of course not! They were human, too. Let us pray today for all fathers: good, bad, indifferent and absent. Especially the absent.
Humilty and persevering fidelity to the task in hand are not spectacular qualities but they are very necessary to the good order of both family and society. I am not alone in thinking that fatherhood does not seem to be properly valued today, and I find it troubling. We may be learning to our cost that single-parent families are hard on both parents and children, but there seems to be an inbuilt presumption that mothering is more important than fathering. I wonder. Good fathering is important to both boys and girls, we all agree, but perhaps even struggling, incompetent and not very assured fathering is better than no fathering at all.
So, take heart if you are a father and don't feel that you are making a very good fist of it. Your child needs you, just as you are. Would Jesus of Nazareth have been the person he was without both Joseph and Mary to help him towards adulthood? Did they never make mistakes, get things wrong? Of course not! They were human, too. Let us pray today for all fathers: good, bad, indifferent and absent. Especially the absent.
Word, words, words
18/March/2010
No, Digitalnun has not been re-reading "Hamlet" recently, but yesterday's blog post and some of the comments gave deep offence to a reader. I have apologized and tried to explain what I think was a misunderstanding but it has also made me think about words and the ways in which we use them. The opening sentence of the Prologue to St John always sends shivers down my spine: in the beginning was the Word. That is the same word God spoke at the beginning of creation, through which everything came to be. God's word is always creative, always life-giving. Our own words, by comparison, are often death-dealing: "words divide and rend", as Swinburne wrote so pathetically. St Benedict was wary of words: our use of them should always be restrained. The good word, which is above the best of gifts, should always be offered when we lack the wherewithal to meet a need, but in general it is better to keep silence than to speak.
The reason for this restraint in speech is simple: we need to listen. The very first word of the Rule is "obsculta", listen carefully. We need silence to hear God, we need silence to hear others, we even need silence to "hear" ourselves. (How often have you heard a harrassed parent say, "Shh, I can't hear myself think!") One facet of modern life many find irritating is the sheer volume of meaningless noise with which we fill the world (think being put on hold on the telephone). I do not know what we do about it, but I have made a token protest. The ringtone on my mobile is a very meaningful piece of plainsong. If we have to have noise, let it be prayerful.
The reason for this restraint in speech is simple: we need to listen. The very first word of the Rule is "obsculta", listen carefully. We need silence to hear God, we need silence to hear others, we even need silence to "hear" ourselves. (How often have you heard a harrassed parent say, "Shh, I can't hear myself think!") One facet of modern life many find irritating is the sheer volume of meaningless noise with which we fill the world (think being put on hold on the telephone). I do not know what we do about it, but I have made a token protest. The ringtone on my mobile is a very meaningful piece of plainsong. If we have to have noise, let it be prayerful.
Glorious St Patrick
17/March/2010
Perhaps it's the lack of any Irish in the community, or the fact that today's commemoration is Collect only, but it is difficult to get excited about St Patrick this morning. He seems "long ago and far away". That is not the case with all saints. Indeed, there are many who lived long before Patrick who seem much closer. Think of Peter, for example. One feels he could step into the room at any moment, poor wobbly Peter, with his frequent misunderstandings and warm heart, who followed the Lord even to the point of crucifixion. Or how about Polycarp, or Felicity and Perpetua? It is not a fair comparison, of course, because we have the New Testament to tell us about Peter and some dramatic accounts of their martyrdoms for the others.
What history fails to record, legend often supplies. There are some good stories about St Patrick, but even so, this morning they fail to stir. We are at that point of Lent where we seem to have been trekking across the interior desert for ages and the way ahead stretches long and lonely before us. Excellent! Lent is doing its work. It is making us more sensitive to God and hopefully to others also. It is making us confront the fact of sin and forgiveness and the bleakness of our inner landscape. It is not enough, however, to lament our fallen state. We are meant to do something about it.
St Patrick was moved by the plight of his captors to spend the rest of his life trying to win them for God. He could do that only because he had experienced the power of God's forgiveness in his own life and was therefore able to forgive those who had injured him. Forgiveness spurred him to action. We too have been forgiven, but do we pass that forgiveness on? Or are we "hearers of the word only?"
What history fails to record, legend often supplies. There are some good stories about St Patrick, but even so, this morning they fail to stir. We are at that point of Lent where we seem to have been trekking across the interior desert for ages and the way ahead stretches long and lonely before us. Excellent! Lent is doing its work. It is making us more sensitive to God and hopefully to others also. It is making us confront the fact of sin and forgiveness and the bleakness of our inner landscape. It is not enough, however, to lament our fallen state. We are meant to do something about it.
St Patrick was moved by the plight of his captors to spend the rest of his life trying to win them for God. He could do that only because he had experienced the power of God's forgiveness in his own life and was therefore able to forgive those who had injured him. Forgiveness spurred him to action. We too have been forgiven, but do we pass that forgiveness on? Or are we "hearers of the word only?"
A New Name
16/March/2010
We can let you into a little secret. St Cecilia's Guild is about to be renamed and will soon become Veilaudio. We hope the new name will not only describe better what our audio service to the blind and visually impaired actually is but also help identify it more immediately with the monastery. We already have Veilnet (for web design and hosting), Veilpress (for typography and printing and Veilshop (for retail sales). If you are wondering about the use of "veil", it is a play on "vale" (as in Vale of White Horse, where we live) and a nod in the direction of our being nuns. We have a simple logo (see above) to go with the new name and will be launching it properly when our rejigged web site goes "live".
No podcast this week because we have lent our HandyZoom to a friend. After using the Zoom any other audio seems inferior, and since we don't consciously do inferior here, you are spared our ramblings for a few more days.
Laetare Sunday 2010
14/March/2010
The fourth Sunday in Lent is Laetare Sunday, so-called from the first word of the entrance antiphon, "Rejoice!" And rejoice we do: rose-coloured vestments, flowers on the altar, musical instruments, all tokens of our gladness at being children of God. Contrary to popular opinion, Sundays in Lent are not fast days (the Church does not fast when she commemorates the Resurrection), so the relaxations allowed today are mainly liturgical. The historically-minded will recall that it was on this Sunday that the popes used to bless the Golden Rose sent to Catholic sovereigns. Nearer home, Laetare was also called Mothering Sunday, a day when people made a special effort to attend the cathedral or mother-church of the diocese. (The modern Mother's Day is really an American import which for most people has taken over from Mothering Sunday.)
By a nice irony, today's gospel (Luke 15) is all about men: a prodigal son, a scratchy elder brother, and a generous father. Of course, at the heart of the gospel is the teaching about God's tender love for his wayward sons and daughters which transcends all questions of sex. John Paul I described this love of God as "motherly" and one can see why. In fact, for me, the missing character in the gospel is the mother. Has she been written out of the story, as women have so often been written out of the story of the Church?
In asking that question, I am not seeking to make a cheap point. The abuse scandals which have hurt so many are not about celibacy, not about the clergy alone: they concern the Church as a whole, you and me as much as bishops and priests. They are about an abuse of power, collusion and cover-up: the Church failing to nurture and protect, seeking things other than the Kingdom. Attempts to apportion blame get us nowhere. What we need above all else, I would suggest, is to regain a sense of the Church as Mother, of our mission of service, of profound humility before God and one another. A humble, servant Church will still be a Church of sinners; but God has no problem with sinners, even if we do. It is hypocrisy that corrupts and destroys.
This is a very good day on which to pray for our Mother the Church and for ourselves.
By a nice irony, today's gospel (Luke 15) is all about men: a prodigal son, a scratchy elder brother, and a generous father. Of course, at the heart of the gospel is the teaching about God's tender love for his wayward sons and daughters which transcends all questions of sex. John Paul I described this love of God as "motherly" and one can see why. In fact, for me, the missing character in the gospel is the mother. Has she been written out of the story, as women have so often been written out of the story of the Church?
In asking that question, I am not seeking to make a cheap point. The abuse scandals which have hurt so many are not about celibacy, not about the clergy alone: they concern the Church as a whole, you and me as much as bishops and priests. They are about an abuse of power, collusion and cover-up: the Church failing to nurture and protect, seeking things other than the Kingdom. Attempts to apportion blame get us nowhere. What we need above all else, I would suggest, is to regain a sense of the Church as Mother, of our mission of service, of profound humility before God and one another. A humble, servant Church will still be a Church of sinners; but God has no problem with sinners, even if we do. It is hypocrisy that corrupts and destroys.
This is a very good day on which to pray for our Mother the Church and for ourselves.
Mums and Kitchens
13/March/2010
Quite often I find the day's section of the Rule or the psalms of a particular Office coincide very neatly with what is happening in community or the world at large. Today, half Britain will be scurrying off to buy Mum a bunch of flowers or box of chocolates to celebrate Mothering Sunday; and I daresay tomorrow morning, many a harassed mother will patiently await a loving offering of cremated toast and half-cold coffee to mark her "special day". Meanwhile, this week-end, we boring Benedictines will be reading RB 35, On the KItchen Servers of the Week, and meditating on the Church as Mother. Given that women still seem to do the bulk of household tasks, including laundry and cooking, there must be something there to ponder.
Two elements of Benedict's treatment of the subject stand out: all are to share equally in the burden of cooking unless some other business of overriding importance to the community has to be attended to, and help is to be given whenever needed. The spiritual motive and benefit are never far from the surface. Serving in the kitchen "secures a richer recompense and greater love"; so all are to "serve one another in love". The trouble is, kitchens can be hot and steamy places, and I am not referring to the pots and pans. There is nothing like having to produce a meal for others when one is tired or the store cupboard is low to make one irritable. Feeling guilty because temper has flared only makes matters worse. (If you do not recognize this scenario and cheerfully move around your designer kitchen, glass in hand, producing fantastic meals from fresh organic produce, sourced locally, for an admiring circle of family and friends, the likelihood is that you have no need to cook for others but do so for sheer delight. Lucky you. Or maybe, not so lucky: meals are sacramentals, and to provide them for others is a wonderful form of service.)
Perhaps this is a week-end when Mums could be freed from feeling guilty for all the times they are manifestly not "the angel in the house". It is difficult to love an angel. Human beings, with all their shortcomings, are much more lovable. Be human.
Two elements of Benedict's treatment of the subject stand out: all are to share equally in the burden of cooking unless some other business of overriding importance to the community has to be attended to, and help is to be given whenever needed. The spiritual motive and benefit are never far from the surface. Serving in the kitchen "secures a richer recompense and greater love"; so all are to "serve one another in love". The trouble is, kitchens can be hot and steamy places, and I am not referring to the pots and pans. There is nothing like having to produce a meal for others when one is tired or the store cupboard is low to make one irritable. Feeling guilty because temper has flared only makes matters worse. (If you do not recognize this scenario and cheerfully move around your designer kitchen, glass in hand, producing fantastic meals from fresh organic produce, sourced locally, for an admiring circle of family and friends, the likelihood is that you have no need to cook for others but do so for sheer delight. Lucky you. Or maybe, not so lucky: meals are sacramentals, and to provide them for others is a wonderful form of service.)
Perhaps this is a week-end when Mums could be freed from feeling guilty for all the times they are manifestly not "the angel in the house". It is difficult to love an angel. Human beings, with all their shortcomings, are much more lovable. Be human.
Catching Up
12/March/2010
Yesterday we drove D. Teresa's sister back to Malvern after a very pleasant week during which she helped us enormously by sorting through D. Teresa's personal and family papers and much else besides. Unfortunately, there is still a daunting amount to do. Once we have finished in the house, we must begin on St Cecilia's. At the moment, we are JUST managing to keep the service going, but we have visions of some blind user being terribly disappointed to discover that the audio book on Mother Teresa he has been awaiting has somehow transmuted into volume III of Hans von Balthasar's Theology of Glory!
However, we do have some good news. Thanks to generous gifts, the future of this web site looks assured for another year, at least as far as hosting and ancillary matters are concerned. (Inspiration depends on the Holy Spirit.) Myles' s Jazz Evening together with the Raffle organized by Mary and Damien raised £446 for our work for the blind, which was a brilliant result for a small village in the bleak midwinter.
Today we have a lot of catching up to do. There are about 80 letters of condolence to which we must reply and some work and admin deadlines to meet so there are likely to be a few tense moments. It is just as well that Digitalnun has given up worry for Lent. "Cast all your burdens upon him, for he has care of you" as we sing at Compline. That is a sentence to treasure throughout the day.
However, we do have some good news. Thanks to generous gifts, the future of this web site looks assured for another year, at least as far as hosting and ancillary matters are concerned. (Inspiration depends on the Holy Spirit.) Myles' s Jazz Evening together with the Raffle organized by Mary and Damien raised £446 for our work for the blind, which was a brilliant result for a small village in the bleak midwinter.
Today we have a lot of catching up to do. There are about 80 letters of condolence to which we must reply and some work and admin deadlines to meet so there are likely to be a few tense moments. It is just as well that Digitalnun has given up worry for Lent. "Cast all your burdens upon him, for he has care of you" as we sing at Compline. That is a sentence to treasure throughout the day.
An Ordinary Day
11/March/2010
Thursday during the third week of Lent: an ordinary day, if the community diary is to be believed. Earlier I watched the dawn stealing across the sky and now the clouds are tinged with pink and there is birdsong hinting at our long-delayed spring. Duncan is snoring contentedly somewhere in the room (no early riser he!), no doubt quite happy that he can safely leave Crufts to his children and grandchildren. The liturgy provides much to ponder, while today's section of the Rule is a reminder that equality is not the same as justice and even in a monastery the superior will have to weigh individual needs - and take the consequences if she gets it wrong.
As the day unfolds there will be work to do, people to see, unexpected delights and probably moments of difficulty or disappointment also. The holiness of the ordinary is something we do not always appreciate as we ought. It is, however, on ordinary days such as these that our salvation is worked out. Whether we are full of energy and hope, or tired and a little grumpy, the present moment is the only one in which we can meet God. We may forget that most of the time: the important thing is not to forget it all the time. The ordinary is really not so ordinary after all.
As the day unfolds there will be work to do, people to see, unexpected delights and probably moments of difficulty or disappointment also. The holiness of the ordinary is something we do not always appreciate as we ought. It is, however, on ordinary days such as these that our salvation is worked out. Whether we are full of energy and hope, or tired and a little grumpy, the present moment is the only one in which we can meet God. We may forget that most of the time: the important thing is not to forget it all the time. The ordinary is really not so ordinary after all.
Welcome
10/March/2010
Later today we expect a visit from our bishop. He is always very approachable and our welcome tends to be correspondingly low-key and Lenten in its simplicity: he is easy with us and we with him, which is a great blessing. I did hear a vacuum cleaner being hauled into the library yesterday, but clearly Great Works were not being undertaken.
It made me think about how we welcome others. So often we concentrate on the adjuncts of hospitality: food, drink, setting. The really important element of welcome, giving time and listening to the other, is something we are less good at. Why? It is surely easier than killing fatted calves or organizing great celebrations. The analogy with prayer is obvious. God asks of us a listening heart rather than great sacrifices, but we often seem keen to give him sacrifice (often trivial) rather than obedience. It doesn't work the other way, of course. God gives us everything and listens to us, too. Perhaps we should think more about how God has welcomed us into his life than how we try to welcome him into ours. Look at the crucifix and see how his arms are spread wide to receive us, eternally.
It made me think about how we welcome others. So often we concentrate on the adjuncts of hospitality: food, drink, setting. The really important element of welcome, giving time and listening to the other, is something we are less good at. Why? It is surely easier than killing fatted calves or organizing great celebrations. The analogy with prayer is obvious. God asks of us a listening heart rather than great sacrifices, but we often seem keen to give him sacrifice (often trivial) rather than obedience. It doesn't work the other way, of course. God gives us everything and listens to us, too. Perhaps we should think more about how God has welcomed us into his life than how we try to welcome him into ours. Look at the crucifix and see how his arms are spread wide to receive us, eternally.
Techie Trials
08/March/2010
Digitalnun is off to the JR this morning and has decided that a good way of passing time is to meditate on how to revalidate the RSS feed for this blog. It works fine in Safari, as Safari users will know; but at some point during the past two years, something broke. Perhaps a blogging nun used "an illegal character" (or two, or three or four); or during a reloading of the site some files got moved around and suffered corruption (sounds like the digital equivalent of relic-hunting, doesn't it?). It matters, because people who haven't time to visit this site but who like to keep an eye on the blog often use a RSS reader to keep them up to date with changes. Any suggestions for revalidating the feed are therefore welcome.
Meanwhile, anyone who has an administrative or managerial role may find it helpful to listen to the Rule today and tomorrow. Chapter 31, on the Cellarer or Bursar of the monastery, is a succinct treatise on the spiritual aspects of management. Goods and tools are to be accorded the same care and respect that we give sacred altar vessels. People can be more awkward to deal with, but even the most demanding must be treated with courtesy and respect. When there is nothing else to give, there is always the good word which is above the best gift. A good word. Surely we can all speak one today?
Meanwhile, anyone who has an administrative or managerial role may find it helpful to listen to the Rule today and tomorrow. Chapter 31, on the Cellarer or Bursar of the monastery, is a succinct treatise on the spiritual aspects of management. Goods and tools are to be accorded the same care and respect that we give sacred altar vessels. People can be more awkward to deal with, but even the most demanding must be treated with courtesy and respect. When there is nothing else to give, there is always the good word which is above the best gift. A good word. Surely we can all speak one today?
Genetics and the Story
06/March/2010
Having a biochemist in community makes life very interesting. Anything to do with genetics, for example, is discussed avidly. Digitalnun noticed a small item on the BBC web site about the Lemba whose DNA appears to confirm that they have Jewish ancestry, including in their priestly tribe the gene found only among cohanin (see http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/8550614.stm). Not another "Lost Tribe" story, but an instance of the survival of religious belief and practice under very unfavourable circumstances. One could find parallels in Spain and Portugal where some families have retained elements of Judaism since the time of the Expulsion, or in Japan, where the story of the Nagasaki Christians is well-known.
What is it that enables some people to maintain their religious identity for centuries while others fall away or reject it quite early in life? The theologian may argue the case for grace, the sociologist for cultural influences and endogamy, and so on and so forth. I suspect there is no one answer. Religious communities reinforce a sense of identity by their use of common texts (e.g. for us as Benedictines the Rule and Customary), common rituals (our ways of dress/worship) and common history (the retelling of the story of how we came to be). During Lent we are particularly conscious of the latter: the telling of the story. On Easter Night we shall listen by the light of the paschal candle to the whole of salvation history, culminating in the gospel of the Resurrection. The fact that the Son of God became man for our sakes, shared our flesh and blood and identified with us in both his birth and his death, is breath-taking. In Jesus there is not a single selfish gene, only the purest, most generous love. That is a story worth telling again and again.
What is it that enables some people to maintain their religious identity for centuries while others fall away or reject it quite early in life? The theologian may argue the case for grace, the sociologist for cultural influences and endogamy, and so on and so forth. I suspect there is no one answer. Religious communities reinforce a sense of identity by their use of common texts (e.g. for us as Benedictines the Rule and Customary), common rituals (our ways of dress/worship) and common history (the retelling of the story of how we came to be). During Lent we are particularly conscious of the latter: the telling of the story. On Easter Night we shall listen by the light of the paschal candle to the whole of salvation history, culminating in the gospel of the Resurrection. The fact that the Son of God became man for our sakes, shared our flesh and blood and identified with us in both his birth and his death, is breath-taking. In Jesus there is not a single selfish gene, only the purest, most generous love. That is a story worth telling again and again.
Pure Praise
05/March/2010
The women of Cameroon have chosen Psalm 150 as part of their theme for Women's World Day of Prayer today. It is a psalm of pure praise, calling on everything in creation to praise the Lord. Very often our praise of God is qualified in some way: we ask something, or we remind God of a little flaw in what he has created or ordained (we are always helpful, especially when we address the Almighty). Our "yes!" somehow mutates into "yes, but". It is the price we pay for growing up and growing away from the simplicity of children.
True praise is beautifully simple and leads to ecstasy in the literal sense. We stand outside ourselves, our gaze wholly focused on the other, our very body language reflecting the joy and delight we experience. Children and dogs are good teachers of how to praise. When we were reunited with Duncan the other day his whole body was one ecstatic wiggle of delight (PBGVs are well-named "the happy breed"). In England our worship of God tends to the stately rather than the ecstatic, but perhaps we should allow our praise a freer flow. David danced before the Ark, indifferent to the disapproval of his wife or any other onlooker. I doubt whether we'll be wiggling in choir today, but I hope our singing of the psalms will be full of a similar transcendent joy. Let everything that lives and that breathes, praise the Lord!
True praise is beautifully simple and leads to ecstasy in the literal sense. We stand outside ourselves, our gaze wholly focused on the other, our very body language reflecting the joy and delight we experience. Children and dogs are good teachers of how to praise. When we were reunited with Duncan the other day his whole body was one ecstatic wiggle of delight (PBGVs are well-named "the happy breed"). In England our worship of God tends to the stately rather than the ecstatic, but perhaps we should allow our praise a freer flow. David danced before the Ark, indifferent to the disapproval of his wife or any other onlooker. I doubt whether we'll be wiggling in choir today, but I hope our singing of the psalms will be full of a similar transcendent joy. Let everything that lives and that breathes, praise the Lord!
Excommunication
04/March/2010
Today's chapter of RB, How the Abbot must have Special Care for the Excommunicated (RB27), is one that deserves close attention. We are dealing here with an imperfect situation, with people who have offended against the community in some way and incurred the penalty of excommunication. Excommunication takes many forms, and in the Rule we see a graded system at work according to the seriousness of the fault. Benedict, however, is anxious that excommunication, separation from the community, should never become absolute. Indeed, the abbot is commanded to have a special care for the excommunicated, to send experienced and wise brethren to comfort the offenders and encourage them to reform. Love is to be reaffirmed and everyone is to pray.
This is a real challenge to anyone who has ever had to "take disciplinary action" because it is easy to assume that all blame lies with the offender. It may do, but that doesn't mean we can wash our hands of responsibility for his/her conduct. It is also a challenge to the Churches as we struggle with our interior dissensions and disputes. How do we maintain that "bond of unity which the Spirit gives" when some of our members seem to be adopting positions diametrically opposed to the historic faith and belief of our Church? How do we reconcile all this "comfort-giving" stuff with the need to be clear and firm in our belief and practice?
Benedict is wise enough not to answer that question. Instead, he demands of the abbot an almost super-human degree of effort to win back the straying brother, reminding him that he has undertaken the care of weak souls not tyranny over strong ones, warning him not to give up just because the task is difficult. Ultimately, he uses the example of the Good Shepherd leaving the ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness and going in search of the one that is lost. He adds a poignant detail, however. He assumes the lost sheep was found and that the Shepherd "had such great compassion on its weakness that he deigned to place it on his own sacred shoulders and so brought it back to the flock."
It is rare to find such a clear statement of the obligation to be compassionate, to take on one's own shoulders the burden of another. We can dodge it; we can fudge it; but we can't finally escape it, because it is part of what it means to be Christian and a member of society. I hope that thought makes you as uncomfortable as it makes me.
This is a real challenge to anyone who has ever had to "take disciplinary action" because it is easy to assume that all blame lies with the offender. It may do, but that doesn't mean we can wash our hands of responsibility for his/her conduct. It is also a challenge to the Churches as we struggle with our interior dissensions and disputes. How do we maintain that "bond of unity which the Spirit gives" when some of our members seem to be adopting positions diametrically opposed to the historic faith and belief of our Church? How do we reconcile all this "comfort-giving" stuff with the need to be clear and firm in our belief and practice?
Benedict is wise enough not to answer that question. Instead, he demands of the abbot an almost super-human degree of effort to win back the straying brother, reminding him that he has undertaken the care of weak souls not tyranny over strong ones, warning him not to give up just because the task is difficult. Ultimately, he uses the example of the Good Shepherd leaving the ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness and going in search of the one that is lost. He adds a poignant detail, however. He assumes the lost sheep was found and that the Shepherd "had such great compassion on its weakness that he deigned to place it on his own sacred shoulders and so brought it back to the flock."
It is rare to find such a clear statement of the obligation to be compassionate, to take on one's own shoulders the burden of another. We can dodge it; we can fudge it; but we can't finally escape it, because it is part of what it means to be Christian and a member of society. I hope that thought makes you as uncomfortable as it makes me.
Amen
03/March/2010
Several disagreeable things happened yesterday, so that by the time we prayed Compline I was in anything but a pious mood. I was brought up short, however, by that little word "Amen". We say it so often: at the end of every collect and the "Glory be" following every psalm, after the Lord's prayer, after the versicles, at the conclusion of every Office. It is a litany in a little. How many times a day do we say "Amen", affirming our belief and our acceptance? It is a wonderful prayer for Lent: a way of blessing instead of cursing. When things go right: Amen. When things go wrong: Amen. When another bill plops through the letterbox: Amen. When a friend sends the letter or email we have been longing for: Amen. When we see the snowdrops in the grass or the red kite in the sky: Amen. When we are troubled, or anxious or angry: Amen. Best of all, "Amen" unites us with the prayer of Jesus himself, and what could be more powerful than that?
Home sweet home
02/March/2010
Colophon did not take itself off to Rome during its week of cybersilence, but it did enjoy four days of contemplative calm at the Royal English College, Valladolid. It is likely that some photos will follow once Digitalnun has finished unpacking and begun to catch up with all the correspondence which has accumulated in the meantime. The reason for this unexpected trip to Spain was twofold: the unveiling of a stunning altarpiece by Juan de Roelas, newly restored and returned to the College (you may have seen the photograph in the Times), and the launch of the second ACSA volume, "The Fruits of Exile", designed and typeset by Veilpress in English, Latin, Greek and Spanish. It was, of course, a great penance to enjoy the very liberal hospitality of the College, the beauty of Old Castile, and the treasures of Valladolid and Tordesillas, about which more anon.
It is, however, good to be back in the routine of monastic life and the simplicity of Lent. Lent seems so long when we begin but passes so quickly, we need to make the most of it. We have decided that this year we shall drop our usual programme of Lenten talks, etc as we have a great deal to catch up on and it is silly to overstretch ourselves. We shall, however, honour all our existing commitments to the CWL and local parishes.
Today marks the thirtieth day since the death of D. Teresa, the completion of the "month's mind". Now we must begin in earnest the sad work of sorting through her effects and dealing with all the legal business which is more complicated than usual so will require more time. One of her sisters will be staying with us for a few days, so please keep her in your prayers. Our audio service to the blind continues but please bear with us while we try to disentangle various elements. D. Teresa was the audio librarian and the only one of us really "au fait" with the system.
It is, however, good to be back in the routine of monastic life and the simplicity of Lent. Lent seems so long when we begin but passes so quickly, we need to make the most of it. We have decided that this year we shall drop our usual programme of Lenten talks, etc as we have a great deal to catch up on and it is silly to overstretch ourselves. We shall, however, honour all our existing commitments to the CWL and local parishes.
Today marks the thirtieth day since the death of D. Teresa, the completion of the "month's mind". Now we must begin in earnest the sad work of sorting through her effects and dealing with all the legal business which is more complicated than usual so will require more time. One of her sisters will be staying with us for a few days, so please keep her in your prayers. Our audio service to the blind continues but please bear with us while we try to disentangle various elements. D. Teresa was the audio librarian and the only one of us really "au fait" with the system.
A Time for (Temporary) Silence
22/February/2010
The Feast of St Peter's Chair has always been held in great affection by the English. In Anglo-Saxon times, visiting Rome and praying at the tombs of the Apostles was something both kings and clerics delighted in doing. It may seem curiously quaint to some, but praying for our pastors is very necessary; and much more useful than criticizing them!
Talking of prayer, Colophon is not off to Rome, but the monastery bloggers and podcasters feel the need to take more in if they are to give out anything worth reading or hearing. So, no more blogging, podcasting or tweeting until the 1 March; and to make sure she is not tempted back into cyberspace before the feast of St David, Digitalnun is not even going to update the Prayer Box. Instead, you can listen to the daily section of the Rule below; and if you find yourself wondering how to feed your Hendred podcast addiction (oh, the arrogance! Ed), there is still a longish one on Lent on the podcast page, plus 80 others. That should mortify you sufficiently, should it not?
February 23
February 24
February 25
February 26
February 27
February 28
Talking of prayer, Colophon is not off to Rome, but the monastery bloggers and podcasters feel the need to take more in if they are to give out anything worth reading or hearing. So, no more blogging, podcasting or tweeting until the 1 March; and to make sure she is not tempted back into cyberspace before the feast of St David, Digitalnun is not even going to update the Prayer Box. Instead, you can listen to the daily section of the Rule below; and if you find yourself wondering how to feed your Hendred podcast addiction (oh, the arrogance! Ed), there is still a longish one on Lent on the podcast page, plus 80 others. That should mortify you sufficiently, should it not?
February 23
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February 24
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February 25
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February 26
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February 27
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February 28
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A Missionary Faith
19/February/2010
Yesterday we received an interesting suggestion for our next Virtual Chapter: how to reconcile Ash Wednesday's gospel, Matthew 6, with the demands of a missionary Faith. Digitalnun's distractions have been working overtime on the subject so, in an effort to provoke you into joining in the Chapter which we'll hold when we are slightly more back to "normal", here are a few of her half-baked reflections.
On the very day when the gospel told us to let no one know we were fasting, Catholics were walking around with great ashy smudges on their foreheads to proclaim their penitent condition. They may not have been having trumpets sounded when they gave alms, but they were definitely seen by others in church as they attended Mass or other devotions. What are we to make of this? And how do we reconcile the interiority of Christianity with the duty to proclaim the gospel?
First, I think the discrepancy between what the gospel says and what we actually do is worth noting. Ash Wednesday highlights a perennial problem for Christians: we are rather picky about how we interpret the scriptures. By Maundy Thursday we shall be following the gospel literally, washing feet and celebrating a festive meal, but on Ash Wednesday what we do is diametrically opposed to what the gospel says. Or is it?
I myself think that the gospel is pointing to the way in which we can use religion for irreligious ends, to draw attention to ourselves, to portray ourselves as rather better than we are, and certainly better than the next man or woman. Sadly, we can end up believing our own myth: because I go to church on Sundays, tithe my income and fast regularly, I really am a good person. Well, you may be, but you may also be a conceited fool with a heart of stone, blind to your own shortcomings. (A nun's anger, said Newman, is like rapsberry vinegar: sweet acid; I plead guilty).
But what about the duty to proclaim the gospel? It seems very un-English. While Catholics are quite happy to walk around with ashes on their foreheads on Ash Wednesday, they tend to become tongue-tied when asked to explain what they believe. One does not often see them nowadays standing on street corners and proclaiming the Word of God. It may be something of a cop-out to suggest that there is more than one way of proclaiming Jesus Christ. As a contemplative nun, for example, I am sure that the most important thing I can do to spread the gospel is to live monastic life as well as I can, devoting myself to prayer and service in the monastery. I am encouraged in this by the thought that probably the greatest missionary of the nineteenth century was a French Carmelite nun called Thérèse.
But there are times when one must go beyond simply "performing the duties of one's state in life". None of us knows when those times may come, but we can be absolutely sure that we will be given grace when we need it. God never asks what he is unwilling to grant. The problem for us is being ready to listen.
On the very day when the gospel told us to let no one know we were fasting, Catholics were walking around with great ashy smudges on their foreheads to proclaim their penitent condition. They may not have been having trumpets sounded when they gave alms, but they were definitely seen by others in church as they attended Mass or other devotions. What are we to make of this? And how do we reconcile the interiority of Christianity with the duty to proclaim the gospel?
First, I think the discrepancy between what the gospel says and what we actually do is worth noting. Ash Wednesday highlights a perennial problem for Christians: we are rather picky about how we interpret the scriptures. By Maundy Thursday we shall be following the gospel literally, washing feet and celebrating a festive meal, but on Ash Wednesday what we do is diametrically opposed to what the gospel says. Or is it?
I myself think that the gospel is pointing to the way in which we can use religion for irreligious ends, to draw attention to ourselves, to portray ourselves as rather better than we are, and certainly better than the next man or woman. Sadly, we can end up believing our own myth: because I go to church on Sundays, tithe my income and fast regularly, I really am a good person. Well, you may be, but you may also be a conceited fool with a heart of stone, blind to your own shortcomings. (A nun's anger, said Newman, is like rapsberry vinegar: sweet acid; I plead guilty).
But what about the duty to proclaim the gospel? It seems very un-English. While Catholics are quite happy to walk around with ashes on their foreheads on Ash Wednesday, they tend to become tongue-tied when asked to explain what they believe. One does not often see them nowadays standing on street corners and proclaiming the Word of God. It may be something of a cop-out to suggest that there is more than one way of proclaiming Jesus Christ. As a contemplative nun, for example, I am sure that the most important thing I can do to spread the gospel is to live monastic life as well as I can, devoting myself to prayer and service in the monastery. I am encouraged in this by the thought that probably the greatest missionary of the nineteenth century was a French Carmelite nun called Thérèse.
But there are times when one must go beyond simply "performing the duties of one's state in life". None of us knows when those times may come, but we can be absolutely sure that we will be given grace when we need it. God never asks what he is unwilling to grant. The problem for us is being ready to listen.
Shrove Tuesday 2010
16/February/2010
Shrove Tuesday is the day on which traditionally we prepare for Lent by receiving the Sacrament of Penance or Reconciliation. For many the idea of confessing one's sins ("being shriven" in old parlance) is hard to understand; for many more it is hard to practise. It may be useful, therefore, to recapitulate what the Sacrament is and why it matters.
Only God can forgive sin. The priest acts in God's name, in accordance with the power and charge given him in the Sacrament of Order; and forgiveness is by no means automatic. The penitent must confess, make satisfaction, perform the penance imposed on him and have a firm purpose of amendment for the future. It is not enough just to rattle off a "laundry list", whip through an Act of Contrition, reel off an "Our Father" or two and assume all is well in this world and the next. Sin matters because it binds us and God wants his children to be free, but we have to do our part in responding to the invitation God makes in this Sacrament.
The first stumbling-block for some is the act of confession. To examine one's conscience in the light of the gospel can be painful in itself. Try reading 1 Corinthinans 13, putting your own name where St Paul puts the word "love" and you will soon see where you are wanting! Trying to articulate this murky side of oneself is certainly humbling, but it is also remarkably liberating. Sin's power over us is the power of darkness and concealment which confession breaks by allowing light and healing in. In a sense, the Sacrament is already work when we realise that we are sinners and have fallen short of God's glory.
Being sorry for one's sins is sometimes another difficulty. Here it is important to remember that it is not what one feels but what one intends that matters. If one is resolved to try one's hardest not to commit a particular sin again, there is no need to try to manufacture a feeling one doesn't honestly feel.
Making satisfaction for one's sins is often overlooked but is absolutely essential. If, for example, one has harmed someone by speaking ill of them, one must do all one can to put matters right. That may require a public humility which makes one squirm. Tough. Sin is serious; so is grace. Or there may be sin that no one but oneself knows about, but that too must be put right if one can. Confessing one's sins to a priest not only reveals them for what they are, it also makes one aware how clever we can be in finding excuses for them or minimizing their importance: having to do something about them strips this false comfort from us.
The penance imposed by the priest refers to the temporal punishment due to sin. By confessing we acknowledge we have injured the whole Body of Christ and we are required to make amends, hence the penance. It must be performed diligently and as soon as possible. Finally, there is that firm purpose of amendment for the future and our gratitude to God for what he has done for us.
Conversion, confession, celebration: this is the threefold pattern of the Sacrament of Penance which prepares us for Lent. It is not all doom and gloom. But before we clear our larders of eggs and fats for the Lenten fast, before we set our first pancake sizzling in the pan, let us remember what Lent is about. It is our great Festival of Freedom as Christians, and a necessary part of our preparation is the acknowledgement of our entanglement in sin.
This week's podcast (to be posted tomorrow) will be longer than usual and will be part of the prioress's Chapter talk for Ash Wednesday.
Only God can forgive sin. The priest acts in God's name, in accordance with the power and charge given him in the Sacrament of Order; and forgiveness is by no means automatic. The penitent must confess, make satisfaction, perform the penance imposed on him and have a firm purpose of amendment for the future. It is not enough just to rattle off a "laundry list", whip through an Act of Contrition, reel off an "Our Father" or two and assume all is well in this world and the next. Sin matters because it binds us and God wants his children to be free, but we have to do our part in responding to the invitation God makes in this Sacrament.
The first stumbling-block for some is the act of confession. To examine one's conscience in the light of the gospel can be painful in itself. Try reading 1 Corinthinans 13, putting your own name where St Paul puts the word "love" and you will soon see where you are wanting! Trying to articulate this murky side of oneself is certainly humbling, but it is also remarkably liberating. Sin's power over us is the power of darkness and concealment which confession breaks by allowing light and healing in. In a sense, the Sacrament is already work when we realise that we are sinners and have fallen short of God's glory.
Being sorry for one's sins is sometimes another difficulty. Here it is important to remember that it is not what one feels but what one intends that matters. If one is resolved to try one's hardest not to commit a particular sin again, there is no need to try to manufacture a feeling one doesn't honestly feel.
Making satisfaction for one's sins is often overlooked but is absolutely essential. If, for example, one has harmed someone by speaking ill of them, one must do all one can to put matters right. That may require a public humility which makes one squirm. Tough. Sin is serious; so is grace. Or there may be sin that no one but oneself knows about, but that too must be put right if one can. Confessing one's sins to a priest not only reveals them for what they are, it also makes one aware how clever we can be in finding excuses for them or minimizing their importance: having to do something about them strips this false comfort from us.
The penance imposed by the priest refers to the temporal punishment due to sin. By confessing we acknowledge we have injured the whole Body of Christ and we are required to make amends, hence the penance. It must be performed diligently and as soon as possible. Finally, there is that firm purpose of amendment for the future and our gratitude to God for what he has done for us.
Conversion, confession, celebration: this is the threefold pattern of the Sacrament of Penance which prepares us for Lent. It is not all doom and gloom. But before we clear our larders of eggs and fats for the Lenten fast, before we set our first pancake sizzling in the pan, let us remember what Lent is about. It is our great Festival of Freedom as Christians, and a necessary part of our preparation is the acknowledgement of our entanglement in sin.
This week's podcast (to be posted tomorrow) will be longer than usual and will be part of the prioress's Chapter talk for Ash Wednesday.
Ars Amandi
14/February/2010
St Valentine's Day does not feature in the monastic calendar. Usually on 14 February we are celebrating the dull but worthy SS Cyril and Methodius (may our Slav brethren forgive me) and meditating on the beauties of Old Church Slavonic rather than the loveliness of the beloved. There is not a red ribbon or rosebud in sight. The feast is too minor to merit a glass of wine or piece of chocolate: everything is suitably drab and dreary. While the commercial world goes into a spin in the name of lurv, we remain relentlessly focused on the spiritual, rejoicing in the preaching of the gospel to our eastern neighbours over a thousand years ago. No wonder many think the Church hopelessly out of touch with the world in which "ordinary people" live and work, unbearably serious and a bit of a kill-joy.
By a happy accident, St Valentine's Day coincides with Sunday this year, so we had the Beatitudes at Mass. I daresay many a preacher compared the two ways of loving, Christian and commercial, contrasting the self-giving of the one with the exploitation of the other. I wonder how many dared to argue that Christian love, as expressed in the Beatitudes, is the most romantic of all loves, because it catches us up into the mystery of Christ's love for his Church, looks to the Other rather than to self and is eternal rather than ephemeral. There are no ribbons and rosebuds to express such love as this, no poetry adequate to proclaim it. Only a morsel of bread and a sip of wine, transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, can contain the Love "which moves the sun and lesser stars". This is the love-feast of the Christian, the source of all his joy; and we celebrate it, not on just one day of the year, but on every day save Good Friday and Holy Saturday. For us ars amandi, ars vivendi: the art of loving is the art of living.
By a happy accident, St Valentine's Day coincides with Sunday this year, so we had the Beatitudes at Mass. I daresay many a preacher compared the two ways of loving, Christian and commercial, contrasting the self-giving of the one with the exploitation of the other. I wonder how many dared to argue that Christian love, as expressed in the Beatitudes, is the most romantic of all loves, because it catches us up into the mystery of Christ's love for his Church, looks to the Other rather than to self and is eternal rather than ephemeral. There are no ribbons and rosebuds to express such love as this, no poetry adequate to proclaim it. Only a morsel of bread and a sip of wine, transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, can contain the Love "which moves the sun and lesser stars". This is the love-feast of the Christian, the source of all his joy; and we celebrate it, not on just one day of the year, but on every day save Good Friday and Holy Saturday. For us ars amandi, ars vivendi: the art of loving is the art of living.
The Wasteland Blooms
13/February/2010
Came back from a short trip into Wantage to find our steps covered with a profusion of flowers, orange, white and that delicate shade of green which is almost silver; now the whole house is filled with their scent. It reminds me of the story of the anointing of Jesus' feet. When the jar of nard was broken, says the evangelist, the whole house was filled with the scent. I think monastic life should be like that. There should be a "sweet savour" from the life we lead in Christ which spreads outwards, just as scent spreads outwards from its source. And just as nard was the costliest of scents, stored in alabaster vials, so monastic life should be lavish in its gift of self, however inadequate its human vessels.
To be a vessel of the Spirit is the vocation of every Christian, of course, but monks and nuns are called to empty themselves out even more completely, if possible, that God may be all in all. Only so can the inner wasteland bloom.
To be a vessel of the Spirit is the vocation of every Christian, of course, but monks and nuns are called to empty themselves out even more completely, if possible, that God may be all in all. Only so can the inner wasteland bloom.
Between Sunshine and Snowshowers
11/February/2010
Yesterday we had true "Scholastica weather" and buried D. Teresa amidst sunshine and snowshowers. It was an exhausting day, but we are grateful to all those who came (lots) and all those who helped (lots). I think we managed to combine the monastic and the parochial elements, at least we tried to. It was good to have so many monks and nuns, oblates and friends with us: the church was full, with people having travelled from as far away as Canada in order to be present. A tribute to the huge impact D. Teresa had on those with whom she came into contact, and the high regard in which she was held, not only by us but by many others also. Now we return to the more mundane business of getting on with things, including the dreary "sorting out" that follows any death and the legal matters which can be so time-consuming.
Life has not stopped in the meantime, of course, and we have done our best to keep the business going (needs must pay the bills!) and answer as courteously as we could those who wanted time and attention. Lent is perilously close, but we have decided to scale down our Lent programme for this year as we shall lack one of our principal speakers. There will be a weekly Holy Hour and possibly a couple of talks. Details will be announced later.
Life has not stopped in the meantime, of course, and we have done our best to keep the business going (needs must pay the bills!) and answer as courteously as we could those who wanted time and attention. Lent is perilously close, but we have decided to scale down our Lent programme for this year as we shall lack one of our principal speakers. There will be a weekly Holy Hour and possibly a couple of talks. Details will be announced later.
St Scholastica 2010
10/February/2010
Today is the feast of St Scholastica, sister of St Benedict, a day when strong monks become soppy and strong nuns smile knowingly into their wimples. Scholastica was, above all, a woman of prayer who inspired not only affection but respect in her brother. She knew her own mind and when it came to reconciling the apparently contradictory demands of love and law, seems to have had some insight into the mind of God also. At any rate, she taught St Benedict a lesson he never forgot, for his Rule always sets mercy above judgement, but not in the careless, wishy-washy way of those who are afraid to look Truth in the eye.
This is also the day on which we shall lay D. Teresa's body in the earth, far from her native Trinidad, but in a pleasant English churchyard where the swallows swoop in summer and bats and owls fly about at dusk. The readings at Mass will be Isaiah 25. 6-9; Romans 8.14-23 and John 14. 1-6. I suspect D. Teresa is rather looking forward to the promised Banquet.
This is also the day on which we shall lay D. Teresa's body in the earth, far from her native Trinidad, but in a pleasant English churchyard where the swallows swoop in summer and bats and owls fly about at dusk. The readings at Mass will be Isaiah 25. 6-9; Romans 8.14-23 and John 14. 1-6. I suspect D. Teresa is rather looking forward to the promised Banquet.
Reception of the Body
09/February/2010
Yesterday we clothed D. Teresa in her habit and cowl and laid her in her coffin. Tonight we shall bring her body into church in preparation for the Requiem Mass and Funeral. This "bringing the body to church" has great significance. The church is the place where we are baptized into the life of Christ, where we hear God's word and receive his sacraments; where we worship him in faith and love. It is, in the most literal sense, our "home from home"; for "our true home is in heaven".
So, tonight we shall greet the coffin at the church door and process into church with psalms and prayer. The paschal candle will be lit as a symbol of our hope in the Resurrection. The coffin will be sprinkled with holy water as a reminder of baptism then placed before the altar; the Bible and a Cross will be placed on the coffin as a reminder that we live by the word of God and are made perfect through conformity to Christ's sufferings. FInally, we shall pray, both out loud in words and silently with prayer which needs no outward expression. The Everlasting Arms hold D. Teresa safely in their embrace.
So, tonight we shall greet the coffin at the church door and process into church with psalms and prayer. The paschal candle will be lit as a symbol of our hope in the Resurrection. The coffin will be sprinkled with holy water as a reminder of baptism then placed before the altar; the Bible and a Cross will be placed on the coffin as a reminder that we live by the word of God and are made perfect through conformity to Christ's sufferings. FInally, we shall pray, both out loud in words and silently with prayer which needs no outward expression. The Everlasting Arms hold D. Teresa safely in their embrace.
The Importance of Lectio Divina
08/February/2010
Lectio divina is, first and foremost, the slow, prayerful reading of sacred scripture. Anyone who has read the Rule of St Benedict will recognize its central importance in the life of a monk. One could say that it is the characteristic activity of monastic life since nearly everything we do in choir is, in fact, another form of lectio divina, undertaken by the community as a community rather than as individuals. I, for one, would not confine lectio divina to scripture, anymore than I would claim always to read scripture as lectio divina. Sometimes I read because I have to, or to gain information, and my hurry tends to make me skip some sections and skim others (oh, the advantages of education!), so that I end up with what I want to gain from the text, not necessarily what the author wanted to impart. This is the Fast Food approach to reading, and its consequences can be equally dire.
Lectio divina demands a more leisurely approach, where quality rather than quantity is sought. An important part of the process is the quest for God, allowing the text to speak of God and lead one to prayer. Thus, intention is important; but it is surprising how often one may sit down to something with no conscious intention of doing anything particularly "religious" then find that one has been granted an insight or brought up against a question that forces one to one's knees. My novice mistress looked decidedly sceptical when I confessed that reading Homer turned into prayer and utterly nonplussed when one of my fellows volunteered playing tennis!
What is essential is that lectio divina should be practised regularly, even if for only a few minutes each day. Unfortunately, when very busy, lectio divina tends to get postponed, reduced to a bare minimum or even dropped altogether. During the past week we have had to reduce the time we devote to reading, and we certainly feel the want of it. But perhaps because it wasn't laziness that caused the reduction, I believe there have been compensations. We live in a world where everything and everyone can speak to us of God.
Lectio divina demands a more leisurely approach, where quality rather than quantity is sought. An important part of the process is the quest for God, allowing the text to speak of God and lead one to prayer. Thus, intention is important; but it is surprising how often one may sit down to something with no conscious intention of doing anything particularly "religious" then find that one has been granted an insight or brought up against a question that forces one to one's knees. My novice mistress looked decidedly sceptical when I confessed that reading Homer turned into prayer and utterly nonplussed when one of my fellows volunteered playing tennis!
What is essential is that lectio divina should be practised regularly, even if for only a few minutes each day. Unfortunately, when very busy, lectio divina tends to get postponed, reduced to a bare minimum or even dropped altogether. During the past week we have had to reduce the time we devote to reading, and we certainly feel the want of it. But perhaps because it wasn't laziness that caused the reduction, I believe there have been compensations. We live in a world where everything and everyone can speak to us of God.
In Praise of Water
07/February/2010
Digitalnun has often had occasion to remark that cold water is one of the oldest tastes known to humankind. During the last week she has been reminded how good it is. Whilst prostrate with pain (slight exaggeration: gastro-entiritis is unpleasant and leaves one limp, but it is pretty low in the pain stakes. Ed), she could drink nothing. Then came the craving for water, gallons of the stuff, fresh from the tap, sipped and slurped and really tasted, for the first time in years probably.
Water is one of our commonest sacramentals, beautiful in itself and even more beautiful as a channel of divine grace. It is our "natural element" as Christians. It surrounds us in the womb, it cleanses and refreshes us throughout life. Here in England we usually have enough water to meet all our needs and often all our wants (not quite the same thing). We are never very far from a source of cheap, pure water. Most of us are not very far, either, from a river or sea where we can simply enjoy the gift of water reflecting light back into the air. Perhaps in our weak and wobbly moments, when we feel like water ourselves, we can remember that. Water, just by being water, can make everything luminous; and if you don't believe me, just go into the Fens and look up at the sky.
Water is one of our commonest sacramentals, beautiful in itself and even more beautiful as a channel of divine grace. It is our "natural element" as Christians. It surrounds us in the womb, it cleanses and refreshes us throughout life. Here in England we usually have enough water to meet all our needs and often all our wants (not quite the same thing). We are never very far from a source of cheap, pure water. Most of us are not very far, either, from a river or sea where we can simply enjoy the gift of water reflecting light back into the air. Perhaps in our weak and wobbly moments, when we feel like water ourselves, we can remember that. Water, just by being water, can make everything luminous; and if you don't believe me, just go into the Fens and look up at the sky.
St Paul Miki and Companions
06/February/2010
The feast of St Paul Miki and Companions is a good one for reflecting on loss and gain from a Christian perspective. In case you don't know their story, these are the twenty-six Japanese men and boys (Jesuit priests and brothers, secular Franciscans, cooks and carpenters) who were martyred In Nagasaki by crucifixion in the sixteenth century. As he hung on the cross, Paul Miki, a Jesuit brother and probably the best-known, said, "I am a true Japanese. The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ . . . I hope my blood will fall on my fellow men as a fruitful rain." The persecution of that time looked like the end of everything. It is estimated that a further 40,000 Christians were put to death between their martyrdom in 1597 and the lifting of the ban on Christianity in 1873. The methods of suppression sound familiar: being required to trample on sacred images, not being allowed the scriptures, banning meetings, offering financial inducements to informers and betrayers. Yet when Christian missionaries returned to Japan in the late nineteenth century, they found thousands of Christian living around Nagasaki who had preserved their faith in secret through centuries of fear and oppression.
Why should that surprise anyone? What happened on Calvary must have looked like the end of everything for the first followers of Jesus; but it wasn't. With the benefit of hindsight we can see that the death and resurrection of Jesus are the fons et origo of our life as Christians, quite the opposite of what they must have seemed at the time. The crucifixion of those Nagasaki martyrs must have looked like the end of Christianity in Japan; but it wasn't. It was the beginning of something that even today places the whole Church in their debt.
Just as a community is not really a community unless it numbers the old and sick among its members, those who, in economic terms, are net consumers rather than contributors (the language is as ugly as the attitude), so too a community is not fully a community until some of its members have died and the communion of saints has become a personal reality on both the vertical and the horizontal level. The Nagasaki Christians experienced that when those brave men and boys died on the hill outside their city. It is something our community here in Hendred has begun to experience with the death of our dear D. Teresa. We have suffered the blow; we now confidently await the blessings to follow.
Why should that surprise anyone? What happened on Calvary must have looked like the end of everything for the first followers of Jesus; but it wasn't. With the benefit of hindsight we can see that the death and resurrection of Jesus are the fons et origo of our life as Christians, quite the opposite of what they must have seemed at the time. The crucifixion of those Nagasaki martyrs must have looked like the end of Christianity in Japan; but it wasn't. It was the beginning of something that even today places the whole Church in their debt.
Just as a community is not really a community unless it numbers the old and sick among its members, those who, in economic terms, are net consumers rather than contributors (the language is as ugly as the attitude), so too a community is not fully a community until some of its members have died and the communion of saints has become a personal reality on both the vertical and the horizontal level. The Nagasaki Christians experienced that when those brave men and boys died on the hill outside their city. It is something our community here in Hendred has begun to experience with the death of our dear D. Teresa. We have suffered the blow; we now confidently await the blessings to follow.
Norovirus
04/February/2010
Many thanks for all the kind messages of sympathy and offers of help. Unfortunately, we brought the Norovirus home from hospital with us so it will take a while to respond. We think the funeral will be on Wednesday, the feast of St Scholastica.
Peace and Justice
01/February/2010
Peace is often elusive at both the personal and the communal level yet it is something we all desire and strive to attain. For a Benedictine, peace is to be found in the daily living out of the Rule in community, in the celebration of the liturgy, prayer, work and study. For each one of us peace will have a different accent, be found in slightly different ways. It may be a line from the psalms that sets our hearts at rest; it may be a theological truth expressed with brilliance and clarity which transforms everything; it may be something as simple and everyday as a shared smile or a PBGV gently indicating that it is time for a walk that stills the inner turbulence. The important thing is not to pretend that the inner turbulence does not exist. Everyone knows moments of doubt and confusion, anxiety and stress. They are part of being human, and it seems to be part of being human that troubles multiply when we feel least able to cope with them. Colophon hasn't any clever suggestions to make, but there is one thought we can perhaps hold onto during the coming week, whatever it brings.
Peace is not the mere absence of war, nor does it exist in a moral vacuum. It is intimately connected with justice; and justice in this context means more a sense of "right order" than what we commonly think of as justice. The right ordering of our lives and of society will never be easy, will always require some effort. Here in the monastery we have a frequent reminder of that. Whenever we go into choir, we make the sign of the cross with holy water. It reminds us of our baptism and serves as a ritual purification before we enter the holy of holies. Sometimes it is more than that: a dose of cold reality to pacify an inner rage or cool a hot temper, even, at times, a welcome draught to water a dry and shrivelled heart. It brings us up short, makes us think what we are doing, challenges us to set right whatever is wrong in our lives. It is an invitation to enter into the peace of the Lord. "Peace and justice have embraced" sings the Psalmist; and where else can they do so but in us?
Peace is not the mere absence of war, nor does it exist in a moral vacuum. It is intimately connected with justice; and justice in this context means more a sense of "right order" than what we commonly think of as justice. The right ordering of our lives and of society will never be easy, will always require some effort. Here in the monastery we have a frequent reminder of that. Whenever we go into choir, we make the sign of the cross with holy water. It reminds us of our baptism and serves as a ritual purification before we enter the holy of holies. Sometimes it is more than that: a dose of cold reality to pacify an inner rage or cool a hot temper, even, at times, a welcome draught to water a dry and shrivelled heart. It brings us up short, makes us think what we are doing, challenges us to set right whatever is wrong in our lives. It is an invitation to enter into the peace of the Lord. "Peace and justice have embraced" sings the Psalmist; and where else can they do so but in us?
Hospital Visits
31/January/2010
We have spent the last few days commuting between the monastery and the John Radcliffe Hospital (where D. Teresa is "making progress", D.G.). This has brought us into contact with many people we don't know and who don't know us. It has been instructive. Inevitably in Oxford, some people seem to think we might be Muslims because of our long habits and veils: they tend to keep a cautious distance, avoid eye contact and seem to be wishing either we or they might disappear. Very telling. Others go into "panic mode", probably afraid of "holier than thou" sermonizing on our part. They also keep their distance. A few (often, but not always, Irish) ask for prayer or a blessing or call out a greeting that is an invitation to spend a few moments at their bedside. The great majority are straightforwardly pleasant, tolerant of our oddities and happy to exchange a few words and a smile. The stories they tell can sometimes be distressing, a powerful reminder that suffering isn't something that can be measured or rationalised: it can only be endured. And many people endure their suffering with a grace and good humour that is both humbling and inspiring. I think we have learned something during the past week, thanks to all with whom we have come into contact, something we would not have learned had we stayed quietly in our monastery. Exactly what that "something" is, I am not yet sure; but if you are feeling marginally out of sorts, preoccupied with various cares, may I suggest that a visit to your local hospital may give you a valuable new perspective? It is not those who are visited but those who do the visiting who benefit.
St Thomas Aquinas
28/January/2010
Once upon a time, when Digitalnun was even more of a bookworm than today, she decided to read Proust's "Recherche" and Aquinas' "Summa theologica" all through; and having both a modest degree of self-awareness and a respect for the rules of the library, she announced her intention to the monastery librarian. Both agreed she was more likely to stay the course with Proust. Both were wrong. Proust was abandoned long before the madeleine was reached but Aquinas was diligently read to the last sentence. It took two and a half years. He was read early in the morning by the light of a weak bulb; he was read late at night to the accompaniment of gentle snufflings from sleepers in rooms nearby; he was read while hands were numb and nose-tips blue with cold in winter; he was read while heads drooped drowsily in midsummer and the dragonflies danced by the monastery pond. I cannot claim that it made Digitalnun into a scholastic theologian but it did give her a respect both for the task Thomas set himself (a bit like Milton's "to justify the ways of God to men", though expressed with characteristic humility) and for his achievement (he himself would have been the first to acknowledge its incompleteness and imperfection).
I was thinking about Aquinas while reading the pathetic arguments of A. C. Grayling that God cannot exist if he allows tragedies like Haiti. St Thomas would have argued Grayling's case rather better than Grayling himself, I suspect, then demolished it elegantly. "Elegance" is not an obvious word to use in connection with Aquinas but I think it is just. His arguments are always tautly constructed and expressed with an economy of language I find pleasing (but then, I probably have a medieval mind). He would have made a marvellous blogger and a first-class tweeter. He was a man of deep prayer, engaging humilty and endearing humanity (he was rather plump). Above all, he was wise enough to know when to keep silent. In 1273 he laid aside his pen, having been granted an experience in prayer that made him realise that all he had written hitherto was "so much straw" compared with what he now perceived. May St Thomas aid with his prayers those who people the blogosphere and grant wisdom and understanding to us all.
I was thinking about Aquinas while reading the pathetic arguments of A. C. Grayling that God cannot exist if he allows tragedies like Haiti. St Thomas would have argued Grayling's case rather better than Grayling himself, I suspect, then demolished it elegantly. "Elegance" is not an obvious word to use in connection with Aquinas but I think it is just. His arguments are always tautly constructed and expressed with an economy of language I find pleasing (but then, I probably have a medieval mind). He would have made a marvellous blogger and a first-class tweeter. He was a man of deep prayer, engaging humilty and endearing humanity (he was rather plump). Above all, he was wise enough to know when to keep silent. In 1273 he laid aside his pen, having been granted an experience in prayer that made him realise that all he had written hitherto was "so much straw" compared with what he now perceived. May St Thomas aid with his prayers those who people the blogosphere and grant wisdom and understanding to us all.
Jazzing up Monday
24/January/2010
Others can blog about St Paul, we'll just provide a little winter cheer in the form of an advertisement for a Jazz evening on Saturday, 27 February, in Snell's Hall, East Hendred. Doors and bar open at 7.30 p.m. Admission £4. In aid of our work for the blind and visually impaired. We promise there won't be a nun in sight, so do please come and enjoy! Tickets from John Clement, Myles Madden or the monastery.
Benedict XVI and Blogging
24/January/2010
By now everyone who is interested will have read Benedict XVI's encouragement to priests to start blogging. Some of us may think this a little late in coming, but we welcome any recognition that there are many ways in which the Gospel can be proclaimed. We are great believers in using the internet to reach out to people who would not otherwise encounter Christianity. We hope many priests will start blogging. There is, of course, one tiny problem. Unlike the homily, which in the Catholic Church is reserved to priests and deacons and allows of no "come-back" from the congregation, blogging is, by its very nature, open to discussion and disagreement. If one has nothing to say, or if what one says is disputed by others, there WILL be come-back; and one wonders whether that will be difficult for some priests.
Blogging could also be a great help in improving the standard of preaching and I personally hope that our seminaries are encouraging their students to get to grips with all forms of media. At the same time, I hope no one in the Vatican will decide that nuns ought not to blog. "Vita Consecrata" grudgingly allowed us, under certain conditions, to use fax machines at a time when the rest of the world had long abandoned faxes for emails; so we'll continue to hope we may go on inflicting our thoughts and prejudices on the world at large. You can listen to our take on Unity in this week's podcast, which is the nearest any of us will get to preaching in the Catholic Church (Digitalnun is sometimes invited to preach in churches of other denominations, perhaps because the sermon can always become an address and is therefore freed from clerical associations). Preaching, however, is always secondary to prayer for us. The past week has brought much to pray about. Please continue to support the people of Haiti with your prayers, pray and work for Christian unity, and ask for wisdom and charity in discussion of the Equality Bill.
Blogging could also be a great help in improving the standard of preaching and I personally hope that our seminaries are encouraging their students to get to grips with all forms of media. At the same time, I hope no one in the Vatican will decide that nuns ought not to blog. "Vita Consecrata" grudgingly allowed us, under certain conditions, to use fax machines at a time when the rest of the world had long abandoned faxes for emails; so we'll continue to hope we may go on inflicting our thoughts and prejudices on the world at large. You can listen to our take on Unity in this week's podcast, which is the nearest any of us will get to preaching in the Catholic Church (Digitalnun is sometimes invited to preach in churches of other denominations, perhaps because the sermon can always become an address and is therefore freed from clerical associations). Preaching, however, is always secondary to prayer for us. The past week has brought much to pray about. Please continue to support the people of Haiti with your prayers, pray and work for Christian unity, and ask for wisdom and charity in discussion of the Equality Bill.
Where did the Week go?
23/January/2010
The past week has been . . . taxing. After our wimple-raising drive to Ringwood and the devastating news from garages across Oxfordshire (do they have a system for sharing bad news, one wonders, if so it may explain why there are so many pigeons flying about), our nice old Skoda is bound for "fresh woods and pastures new". Meanwhile, we have emptied our bank account and single-handedly rescued the British second-hand car trade by buying a "new to us" Ford. All this was accomplished on Thursday, just before our Virtual Chapter, which may explain why Digitalnun could barely string a sentence together and Bloggie was confusing everyone, including Digitalnun, by using Cybernun's computer. We even managed to rewrite scripture in our confusion. If you listen to the recording, you'll be astonished to learn that Saul anointed David king over Israel, although, to be fair, there was a hesitation which suggested that the speaker was wracking her brains for the right name. Poor dear.
Such things we can laugh about, but within minutes of ending the Chapter we learned that the brother of one of the community had been taken ill. We don't yet know how seriously, but it was a great shock to his sisters, one of whom found him on the floor where he had lain for some time; so please pray for them all. It brought home, in a small way, what the people of Haiti are suffering on a much larger scale without the services we take for granted.
In between whiles, there has been much activity: an edition de luxe for the English College, Valladolid, has been sent to the printers, all 800 pages of it, painstakingly typeset in Greek, Latin, English and Spanish, with some amazing illustrations tweaked in Photoshop to overcome the effects of centuries of wear and tear; two clients' web sites have been brought almost to the point of completion; the new recording technology for our audio book service to the blind and housebound has been exhaustively tested; and we have done our best to maintain the regular round of prayer and praise, welcome to visitors and the 1001 household tasks that make up the everyday life of any monastic community.
However busy we are, we do not forget God. How much less could he ever forget us?
Such things we can laugh about, but within minutes of ending the Chapter we learned that the brother of one of the community had been taken ill. We don't yet know how seriously, but it was a great shock to his sisters, one of whom found him on the floor where he had lain for some time; so please pray for them all. It brought home, in a small way, what the people of Haiti are suffering on a much larger scale without the services we take for granted.
In between whiles, there has been much activity: an edition de luxe for the English College, Valladolid, has been sent to the printers, all 800 pages of it, painstakingly typeset in Greek, Latin, English and Spanish, with some amazing illustrations tweaked in Photoshop to overcome the effects of centuries of wear and tear; two clients' web sites have been brought almost to the point of completion; the new recording technology for our audio book service to the blind and housebound has been exhaustively tested; and we have done our best to maintain the regular round of prayer and praise, welcome to visitors and the 1001 household tasks that make up the everyday life of any monastic community.
However busy we are, we do not forget God. How much less could he ever forget us?
A Busy Day
21/January/2010
Drove through the snow yesterday to see our accountant but had no time to eat our lunchtime picnic in the New Forest as we usually do. Instead we got back as quickly as possible and made a rapid tour of second-hand car dealers near home as we have to replace our car. That is something we have done only once before and causes brain-fatigue in community as we try to ensure we are well-informed about "what to look out for" in particular models. The monastic habit usually has one of two effects: either the salesman (usually it is a man) seems to think we'll buy any old rubbish (not a hope, sir) or becomes unusually tongue-tied and addresses us as "Er, ladies, Er". I suspect the test-drive reintroduces some of them to the practice of prayer as SpeedyNun flings the car round corners and along the bumpier stretches of the A417. We haven't made our final choice yet, but we are getting closer . . .
Car-buying distractions notwithstanding, we are hoping that everything is now set for the Virtual Chapter on Vocation at 7.30 p.m. tonight. You can join us by clicking on the widget in the sidebar or by following the instructions on the Podcast page. The Chapter recording will be available for listening to afterwards.
Car-buying distractions notwithstanding, we are hoping that everything is now set for the Virtual Chapter on Vocation at 7.30 p.m. tonight. You can join us by clicking on the widget in the sidebar or by following the instructions on the Podcast page. The Chapter recording will be available for listening to afterwards.
In the World Not Of
19/January/2010
Two thoughtful correspondents have articulated the same concern this week: how to be in the world, not of the world. It's an age-old concern, and from time to time, some of those outside the cloister express the same concern about those of us inside: are we in danger of having our spiritual energies dissipated by contact with the world/technology/complete as appropriate. I am pretty sure the same question will be raised during our Virtual Chapter on Thursday evening and it deserves to be taken seriously.
I think one must begin by stating the obvious. If one is a Christian, one is dedicated to Christ and does one's best to live one's vocation as well as possible. To do so, one must make use of the various helps we are given: prayer, scripture and the sacraments above all; but also faithful and persevering performance of one's duty (to husband/wife/family/community/whatever) and generous service of others. Inevitably, there is a falling short. Who has not got to the end of the day and felt ashamed of all the missed opportunities, the wrong turnings taken, the petty selfishness that is all the more galling because it is petty? The important thing is that we TRY. We try because we "hold nothing dearer than Christ". We may never say so explicitly (frightfully un-British!), we may even be uncomfortable about admitting as much to ourselves, but it is a fact of our existence.
It is precisely because we are rooted in Christ and because we attempt to keep our commitment deep through prayer and the sacraments, for example, that I think we can be confident that we can pass through the world unscathed, in not of. St Paul was clear that our freedom as children of God is more than just a figure of speech. The trouble is that we don't always live up to that freedom, don't always trust the Holy Spirit. Freedom isn't something we can take for granted, it has to be worked at. So too with Christian freedom: we have to put some effort into ensuring that our conscience is properly informed, be ready to accept correction, live with humility. Only then can we experience the kind of freedom St Paul wrote about and recognize that how the world perceives us may be unimportant, even seriously flawed. What matters is how God sees us. The world in which we live is the one God designed for us; the situations in which we find ourselves are the ones in which we are to live our Faith and become holy; today is for each one of us the day of salvation.
I think one must begin by stating the obvious. If one is a Christian, one is dedicated to Christ and does one's best to live one's vocation as well as possible. To do so, one must make use of the various helps we are given: prayer, scripture and the sacraments above all; but also faithful and persevering performance of one's duty (to husband/wife/family/community/whatever) and generous service of others. Inevitably, there is a falling short. Who has not got to the end of the day and felt ashamed of all the missed opportunities, the wrong turnings taken, the petty selfishness that is all the more galling because it is petty? The important thing is that we TRY. We try because we "hold nothing dearer than Christ". We may never say so explicitly (frightfully un-British!), we may even be uncomfortable about admitting as much to ourselves, but it is a fact of our existence.
It is precisely because we are rooted in Christ and because we attempt to keep our commitment deep through prayer and the sacraments, for example, that I think we can be confident that we can pass through the world unscathed, in not of. St Paul was clear that our freedom as children of God is more than just a figure of speech. The trouble is that we don't always live up to that freedom, don't always trust the Holy Spirit. Freedom isn't something we can take for granted, it has to be worked at. So too with Christian freedom: we have to put some effort into ensuring that our conscience is properly informed, be ready to accept correction, live with humility. Only then can we experience the kind of freedom St Paul wrote about and recognize that how the world perceives us may be unimportant, even seriously flawed. What matters is how God sees us. The world in which we live is the one God designed for us; the situations in which we find ourselves are the ones in which we are to live our Faith and become holy; today is for each one of us the day of salvation.
Wedding Feast at Cana
17/January/2010
I have sometimes wondered what the wine at Cana was like. The palate of faith assumes that it outdid the finest Falernian, whatever that tasted like. Was it drunk, as the wines of Galicia were drunk in my youth, from a wide and spreading cup, shaped rather like the drinking bowls one sees on Attic vases? Was it poured from a great height to aerate it a little before it foamed in the bowl, as the apple wines and ciders of Asturias are poured? Presumably, it was mixed with water, because in the Classical world it was a sign of brutish behaviour to drink one's wine unmixed like the Persians. Was it red or white, or that strange tawny colour which is neither one nor the other? Did it smell of the vineyards of Engedi, so beloved of the Song of Songs, or had it a fragrance impossible to define, flavoured with herbs we would never use today? Was it, like most wines before the twentieth century, low in alcohol? In short, a wine like none that we have ever known, any more than the wedding guests at Cana long ago?
So many questions, so many distractions. One should never be afraid of allowing one's distractions a moment or two of freedom now and then. They have a way of making the stories of the gospel come alive with a freshness and vigour they might not have if we always insist on viewing them through our "scriptural spectacles" . Mooching around the water-jars, metaphorically speaking, I cannot help but hear the quiet insistence of Mary's "Do whatever he tells you." That is a command directed at you and me today, not just the servants of two thousand years ago.
So many questions, so many distractions. One should never be afraid of allowing one's distractions a moment or two of freedom now and then. They have a way of making the stories of the gospel come alive with a freshness and vigour they might not have if we always insist on viewing them through our "scriptural spectacles" . Mooching around the water-jars, metaphorically speaking, I cannot help but hear the quiet insistence of Mary's "Do whatever he tells you." That is a command directed at you and me today, not just the servants of two thousand years ago.
Preparations
16/January/2010
Preparations are well under way for our Virtual Chapter on Thursday evening. Please continue to send in your questions/suggestions on the subject of vocation as it is helpful to have been able to do some thinking in advance. Among those we have already received:
For some reason Twitterfeed is now indexing the Google code we use for the "translate" widget, so we are experimenting with a different position on the blog page, in the sidebar. With luck, there will be a few more behind-the-scenes tweaking of various parts of the site over the week-end. If we manage to break anything in our enthusiasm, please let us know.
Finally, the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity is almost upon us. For many people the whole concept of unity seems to have lost its urgency. Either there is a sense that "none of the differences matters" or "it's not achievable, so why bother?" Dare one say that unity isn't optional and that the Octave of Prayer matters very much indeed?
- how can I know God is calling me?
- how and when should I tell my parents what I want to do?
- is it useful to have some work experience before I enter the seminary/religious community?
- how important is it to share the same Faith in marriage?
- what is the difference between nuns and sisters?
- is it a vocation to be single?
For some reason Twitterfeed is now indexing the Google code we use for the "translate" widget, so we are experimenting with a different position on the blog page, in the sidebar. With luck, there will be a few more behind-the-scenes tweaking of various parts of the site over the week-end. If we manage to break anything in our enthusiasm, please let us know.
Finally, the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity is almost upon us. For many people the whole concept of unity seems to have lost its urgency. Either there is a sense that "none of the differences matters" or "it's not achievable, so why bother?" Dare one say that unity isn't optional and that the Octave of Prayer matters very much indeed?
Authority and Obedience
15/January/2010
It seems fitting that we read the end of RB 2, On the Kind of Person the Abbot Should Be, on the same day that we keep the feast of SS Maurus and Placid, St Benedict's exemplary disciples. Authority and obedience are intimately related but it can be "interesting" to see how they work out. For example, one may derive much quiet amusement from the kind of Catholic who invokes the Pope whenever the matter in hand is one on which he wishes to slap others down but who accuses the same Pope of heresy or worse whenever the papal line does not accord with his own. This can be tiresome when the papal champion turns out to have a very sketchy knowledge of what the Pope actually said/did/wrote, as is often the case; or when the "obedience" is so selective as to verge on the ridiculous (no examples, lest I forsake charity).
I was thinking about this recently because of the number of emails and letters which have come our way about the new translation of the Missal. Most are, frankly, ill-informed, whether "for" or "against" and show the writer to have little grasp of history or theology. (Sometimes they suggest "little Latin and less Greek" and a tin ear into the bargain, not that I am prejudiced, you understand, merely a woman of definite opinions.) The liturgy should NEVER become a source of disunity, should never become something we squabble over. It is too important for that. If you have time to read only one book about liturgy, let it be The Spirit of the Liturgy by Joseph Ratzinger and remember that “There is no ‘pre-’ or ‘post-’ Conciliar Church. There is but one, unique Church that walks the path toward the Lord…” That surely is what authority and obedience in the Church is all about.
I was thinking about this recently because of the number of emails and letters which have come our way about the new translation of the Missal. Most are, frankly, ill-informed, whether "for" or "against" and show the writer to have little grasp of history or theology. (Sometimes they suggest "little Latin and less Greek" and a tin ear into the bargain, not that I am prejudiced, you understand, merely a woman of definite opinions.) The liturgy should NEVER become a source of disunity, should never become something we squabble over. It is too important for that. If you have time to read only one book about liturgy, let it be The Spirit of the Liturgy by Joseph Ratzinger and remember that “There is no ‘pre-’ or ‘post-’ Conciliar Church. There is but one, unique Church that walks the path toward the Lord…” That surely is what authority and obedience in the Church is all about.
Horror in Haiti
14/January/2010
Yesterday two questions dominated our inbox: why does God allow suffering, and what do you think you are doing by praying for the people of Haiti? One is reluctant to comment on the tragedy that is Haiti except on one's knees, but the questions are being asked by many. So, here is a stumbling, inadequate response. Experts in theodicy will find much to criticize, but it is not written for them but for those who, like us, are shocked by what they have heard and deeply saddened.
Whenever we are faced with a natural disaster, or the suffering of those we perceive to be innocent of having brought suffering on themselves, our belief in a good and loving God is tested. We know that God does not want to inflict pain. He is not a sadist; he derives no pleasure from death and destruction. Why, then, does he allow them to happen? Why has he allowed the people of Haiti, who are so poor and have suffered so much, to suffer even more? The honest answer finds no favour with those who do not want God to exist or who want the kind of God we would all despise.
God is creator of the universe and respects the laws of nature, gravity and so on, which inform that universe. He is not a puppeteer, an interventionist. The earthquake that tore Haiti apart was predictable, although we do not know enough to have been able to predict when it might occur. The island lies between two great fault lines and the tectonic plates are in constant movement: it was, indeed, a natural, seismic disaster. The fact that God did not intervene to prevent the catastrophe does not mean that God is indifferent. Far from it. We know that the very hairs of our head are numbered. The language we use to speak of God is inadequate, analogical; he is involved in the suffering of his children. He too "grieves", in a sense, "feels pain". We have only to look at the cross to see that God has identified so completely with us that in Jesus he has made himself vulnerable and experienced in his own flesh suffering and death.
That helps to explain why we pray. We do not pray for any particular result. We do not tell God what to do. We simply allow God to be God, knowing that he can use our readiness to align our will with his. It is part of the covenant between God and ourselves. "How" it works is beyond our understanding; but that it does work is certain. Our response to the earthquake in Haiti was therefore to pray, to give a little more than is comfortable to one of the relief funds, and to go on praying rather than follow in minute detail news bulletins and the like.
May God bless the people of Haiti and have mercy on the souls of all who have died. Amen.
Whenever we are faced with a natural disaster, or the suffering of those we perceive to be innocent of having brought suffering on themselves, our belief in a good and loving God is tested. We know that God does not want to inflict pain. He is not a sadist; he derives no pleasure from death and destruction. Why, then, does he allow them to happen? Why has he allowed the people of Haiti, who are so poor and have suffered so much, to suffer even more? The honest answer finds no favour with those who do not want God to exist or who want the kind of God we would all despise.
God is creator of the universe and respects the laws of nature, gravity and so on, which inform that universe. He is not a puppeteer, an interventionist. The earthquake that tore Haiti apart was predictable, although we do not know enough to have been able to predict when it might occur. The island lies between two great fault lines and the tectonic plates are in constant movement: it was, indeed, a natural, seismic disaster. The fact that God did not intervene to prevent the catastrophe does not mean that God is indifferent. Far from it. We know that the very hairs of our head are numbered. The language we use to speak of God is inadequate, analogical; he is involved in the suffering of his children. He too "grieves", in a sense, "feels pain". We have only to look at the cross to see that God has identified so completely with us that in Jesus he has made himself vulnerable and experienced in his own flesh suffering and death.
That helps to explain why we pray. We do not pray for any particular result. We do not tell God what to do. We simply allow God to be God, knowing that he can use our readiness to align our will with his. It is part of the covenant between God and ourselves. "How" it works is beyond our understanding; but that it does work is certain. Our response to the earthquake in Haiti was therefore to pray, to give a little more than is comfortable to one of the relief funds, and to go on praying rather than follow in minute detail news bulletins and the like.
May God bless the people of Haiti and have mercy on the souls of all who have died. Amen.
Haiti and Hilary
13/January/2010
Late with the blog this morning as we have dedicated an extra half-hour to prayer for the people of Haiti. There is nothing useful we can say on the subject, except to urge everyone to pray and contribute to the relief funds being set up to help. Our prayerline is always open, and we are glad that many find it a way of expressing their deepest hopes and fears. Just now it is full of petitions for families in Haiti.
Here the snow has been falling all night and is falling still: everywhere looks so beautiful that it has proved a great distraction. We were half-way through Vigils before I remembered that today is the Memoria of St Hilary of Poitiers (died c. 368). The "Hammer of the Arians" is such a contrast to St Aelred, whom we commemorated yesterday: a pugnacious, slightly irritable man, who could write like an angel when he wasn't skirmishing with rival authorities, the Emperor in particular. A convert from paganism, he was married with a daughter, Apra, when he was chosen as bishop of Poitiers. His zeal for orthodoxy was intensified by his experience of Arianism, which he distrusted and feared because it imperilled the eternal salvation of souls committed to his care. His comment on the Arians is revealing, "They didn't know who they were." Hilary knew perfectly well who he was, a child of God, a God who was a Trinity of Persons:
Not knowing who one is seems as much a problem today as it ever was. Perhaps that is something that will come up in our next web conference on 21 January: vocation is about what one is, not just what one does; and it applies to everyone, married or single, monastic, clerical or lay.
Here the snow has been falling all night and is falling still: everywhere looks so beautiful that it has proved a great distraction. We were half-way through Vigils before I remembered that today is the Memoria of St Hilary of Poitiers (died c. 368). The "Hammer of the Arians" is such a contrast to St Aelred, whom we commemorated yesterday: a pugnacious, slightly irritable man, who could write like an angel when he wasn't skirmishing with rival authorities, the Emperor in particular. A convert from paganism, he was married with a daughter, Apra, when he was chosen as bishop of Poitiers. His zeal for orthodoxy was intensified by his experience of Arianism, which he distrusted and feared because it imperilled the eternal salvation of souls committed to his care. His comment on the Arians is revealing, "They didn't know who they were." Hilary knew perfectly well who he was, a child of God, a God who was a Trinity of Persons:
(Hilary, De Trinitate)For one to attempt to speak of God in terms more precise than he himself has used: to undertake such a thing is to embark upon the boundless, to dare the incomprehensible. He fixed the names of His nature: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Whatever is sought over and above this is beyond the meaning of words, beyond the limits of perception, beyond the embrace of understanding."
Not knowing who one is seems as much a problem today as it ever was. Perhaps that is something that will come up in our next web conference on 21 January: vocation is about what one is, not just what one does; and it applies to everyone, married or single, monastic, clerical or lay.
St Aelred of Rievaulx
12/January/2010
The feast of the English St Bernard today, and I was thinking of quoting a few lines from his Oratio Pastoralis (Pastoral Prayer). To my surprise, no English translation seems to be available on the internet, but you can read the Latin text here, which is better than reading a translation anyway. Aelred is an interesting saint. The son of a married priest, brought up at the Scottish court, he was an early enthusiast for the Cistercian Reform. As novice master and later abbot at Rievaulx, he demonstrated exactly what Benedict meant by "aptus sit ad lucrandas animas", having a talent for winning souls. Community numbers greatly increased under him, but the growth was short-lived and couldn't be sustained once he had died. It is for his writing, however, that he is chiefly remembered today.
Fashions in monastic spirituality come and go, and it is Aelred's De Spirituali Amicitia (On Spiritual Friendship) which is probably most read nowadays, possibly because the homoerotic elements (real or perceived) noticed by Foucault and others have sparked a vigorous debate. I suspect we are not sufficiently allowing for the differences between the twelfth century and our own. I find it easier to identify with the slightly world-weary Aelred, conscious of sin and loss, wanting to do better and echoing St Augustine as he says:
Yes, that is the voice of the monk (or nun) in every age and time.
Note: our next Virtual Chapter will be on the theme of Vocation: 7.30 p.m. GMT, Thursday, 21 January.
Fashions in monastic spirituality come and go, and it is Aelred's De Spirituali Amicitia (On Spiritual Friendship) which is probably most read nowadays, possibly because the homoerotic elements (real or perceived) noticed by Foucault and others have sparked a vigorous debate. I suspect we are not sufficiently allowing for the differences between the twelfth century and our own. I find it easier to identify with the slightly world-weary Aelred, conscious of sin and loss, wanting to do better and echoing St Augustine as he says:
See, dear Lord, how I have wandered the world and (have seen) those things which are in the world….In these I sought rest for my unhappy soul, but everywhere (I found) labour and lament, sorrow and affliction of spirit. You cried out, Lord; you cried out and called. You terrified me and shattered my deafness. You struck, you flogged, you conquered my hardheartedness. You sweetened, you flavoured, you banished my bitterness. I heard you calling, but, alas, how late.
Yes, that is the voice of the monk (or nun) in every age and time.
Note: our next Virtual Chapter will be on the theme of Vocation: 7.30 p.m. GMT, Thursday, 21 January.
Ordinary Time
11/January/2010
Back to Ordinary Time today, and a brief and breathy podcast, just to test whether we still can. (I almost added, banal: we do seem to go on and on about trying to live our spirituality in the here and now, but to be fair, there's nowhere else to live it until we become "as the angels in heaven".) HandyNun has been busy putting up polythene double-glazing round the windows on the east side of the house and has found some old heavy curtains to act as an extra windshield, so our thoughts have not been entirely other-worldly.
Harriet Harman's Equality bill is exciting debate in religious circles but as we have not yet studied its details, we shall defer comment for the moment. In the meantime, we are indebted to Heresy Corner for providing biographies of the thirteen "inter-faith" advisers appointed by John Denham to act as the present Government's "sounding-board" in all matters connected with faith. The emphasis is definitely "inter-faith" (not a single Catholic among them). There are some excellent people among the appointees but, like many others, we are still doubtful what, if anything, will be achieved. They are hardly likely to be called in to advise on the Equality bill, are they?
Harriet Harman's Equality bill is exciting debate in religious circles but as we have not yet studied its details, we shall defer comment for the moment. In the meantime, we are indebted to Heresy Corner for providing biographies of the thirteen "inter-faith" advisers appointed by John Denham to act as the present Government's "sounding-board" in all matters connected with faith. The emphasis is definitely "inter-faith" (not a single Catholic among them). There are some excellent people among the appointees but, like many others, we are still doubtful what, if anything, will be achieved. They are hardly likely to be called in to advise on the Equality bill, are they?
A Point of View
10/January/2010
With the Baptism of the Lord we come to the official end of Christmastide, and we end as we began, with a Mystery that challenges all our preconceived ideas about how things ought to be. God made man should not have been born in a stable, should he? No more should Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the World, have been baptized by John. John himself was reluctant, but Jesus countermanded him, saying , "Let it be so for now. We must do all that righteousness demands." (Matthew 3.15) With that answer we are given a glimpse into the relationship between Father and Son and are reminded, yet again, that God does not see as we see.
St Ephrem (who died c. 373) wrote a magnificent hymn about the Baptism of the Lord. (It is hymn XIV if you want to read it for yourself.) Ephrem begins with the hiddenness of the Messiah: "The Bride was espoused but knew not who was the Bridegroom on whom she gazed: the guests were assembled, the desert was filled, and our Lord was hidden among them." Then follows a lengthy dialogue between Jesus and John in which all John's objections are overruled, one by one, "'Small is the river whereto Thou art come, that Thou shouldst lodge therein and it should cleanse Thee. The heavens suffice not for Thy mightiness; how much less shall Baptism contain Thee!' 'The womb is smaller than Jordan; yet was I willing to lodge in the Virgin: and as I was born from woman, so too am I to be baptized in Jordan.'"
Gradually, the themes unfold: the espousal of the Church to her heavenly Bridegroom, the forgiveness of sin through baptism, the gift of priesthood, and finally, the revelation of the Trinity:"The heavenly ranks were silent as they stood, and the Bridegroom went down into Jordan; the Holy One was baptized and straightway went up, and His Light shone forth on the world. The doors of the highest were opened above, and the voice of the Father was heard," This is my Beloved in Whom I am well pleased." All ye peoples, come and worship Him. They that saw were amazed as they stood, at the Spirit Who came down and bore witness to Him. Praise to Thy Epiphany that gladdens all, Thou in Whose revelation the worlds are lightened!"
Ghiberti's sculpture of the Baptism of the Lord is outside the baptistry in Florence. One has to look up to see it: the angle is awkward, the pigeons are a nuisance, it is not how we are accustomed to seeing depictions of the Baptism. But for me, it expresses the divine paradox we have returned to again and again during the Christmas season, "Father, through the lowliness of your Son, you raised up a fallen world." That is more than a point of view. It is Salvation Incarnate.
Courage and Cowardice
09/January/2010
Two recent stories have set Colophon thinking about the difference between courage and cowardice.
Constable Peadar Heffron was grievously injured yesterday when a bomb exploded under his car on the Milltown Road, Belfast. The attack was both cowardly and vicious in the fullest sense of the word. The perpetrators (thought to be dissident republicans) exposed themselves to minimal risk, but the lives of their victim and their victim's young wife will be changed for ever by what they did. (At the time of writing, Mr Heffron's survival is by no means certain.) What Colophon chokes on is the fact that this act was carried out by people who, presumably, had at least a nominally Christian education, who grew up in a society in which both civil and religious law assert that the unjust taking of life is wrong. So, we have a cowardly act by cowardly people and the whole world is diminished by it.
Contrast that story with one from Portsmouth. Angela Mahon was being driven to hospital to give birth when the car she was in became stuck in the snow. As her contractions worsened, she knew she had no choice but to walk. Dressed only in her nightclothes, she walked the rest of the way, arriving at the hospital covered in snow and saying, "Help, I'm in labour." This story has a happy ending, with the birth of twin boys a few hours later; but the comments Angela made to "The Portsmouth News" are revealing: "I was so scared . . . I was really panicking. I think I was in shock. I just wanted to get there for the twins." I don't know whether Angela Mahon has any religious beliefs, but what she did was genuinely courageous and self-sacrificing. Real courage takes risks, and knows the risks it takes. It puts others first. Above all, it is life-giving whereas cowardice is death-dealing.
What can the Churches do to encourage a culture of life rather than a culture of death? The public pronouncements of our religious leaders are often thoughtful but can sometimes seem inept, out of touch or even crass, perhaps because the language used is, by and large, no longer a language the world understands or values. Having said that, I am reminded of Chesterton's remark that it is not that Christianity has been tried and found wanting but that it has never been tried. Perhaps those of us who claim to be Christian need to try harder, to show by our actions that we really believe what we say we believe. It isn't easy to be brave, to stand up to hostility or derision or risk our own comfort or ease, but on the whole I think it preferable to causing others to weep because we have been cowards.
Constable Peadar Heffron was grievously injured yesterday when a bomb exploded under his car on the Milltown Road, Belfast. The attack was both cowardly and vicious in the fullest sense of the word. The perpetrators (thought to be dissident republicans) exposed themselves to minimal risk, but the lives of their victim and their victim's young wife will be changed for ever by what they did. (At the time of writing, Mr Heffron's survival is by no means certain.) What Colophon chokes on is the fact that this act was carried out by people who, presumably, had at least a nominally Christian education, who grew up in a society in which both civil and religious law assert that the unjust taking of life is wrong. So, we have a cowardly act by cowardly people and the whole world is diminished by it.
Contrast that story with one from Portsmouth. Angela Mahon was being driven to hospital to give birth when the car she was in became stuck in the snow. As her contractions worsened, she knew she had no choice but to walk. Dressed only in her nightclothes, she walked the rest of the way, arriving at the hospital covered in snow and saying, "Help, I'm in labour." This story has a happy ending, with the birth of twin boys a few hours later; but the comments Angela made to "The Portsmouth News" are revealing: "I was so scared . . . I was really panicking. I think I was in shock. I just wanted to get there for the twins." I don't know whether Angela Mahon has any religious beliefs, but what she did was genuinely courageous and self-sacrificing. Real courage takes risks, and knows the risks it takes. It puts others first. Above all, it is life-giving whereas cowardice is death-dealing.
What can the Churches do to encourage a culture of life rather than a culture of death? The public pronouncements of our religious leaders are often thoughtful but can sometimes seem inept, out of touch or even crass, perhaps because the language used is, by and large, no longer a language the world understands or values. Having said that, I am reminded of Chesterton's remark that it is not that Christianity has been tried and found wanting but that it has never been tried. Perhaps those of us who claim to be Christian need to try harder, to show by our actions that we really believe what we say we believe. It isn't easy to be brave, to stand up to hostility or derision or risk our own comfort or ease, but on the whole I think it preferable to causing others to weep because we have been cowards.
Numb Brains
08/January/2010
Our brains are numb with cold so today we offer just three photos and no thoughts: the monastery under snow, the ice-house, sorry green-house, currently out of bounds to HandyNun as the door is frozen shut, and the view from our breakfast terrace across to Hendred House and its ancient chapel.
Plans Awry
07/January/2010
Today's section of the Rule is about sharing by patience in the sufferings of Christ. Often described as the fourth Benedictine vow (the others are obedience, stability and conversatio morum, usually translated as "conversion of life" or "to live monastic life as it should be lived"), patience is one of those seemingly unheroic virtues absolutely necessary for anyone trying to live as a human being, let alone as a Christian. The Latin roots of the word, patientia (=endurance) and pati (=to suffer), should alert us to the fact that patience is more than a weary, passive acceptance of an imperfect situation. Patience requires courage and steadfastness: it isn't for wimps, and it isn't for losers.
Why do we find patience so difficult? Is it because we want instant solutions, instant results (even in prayer); so when we don't get what we want, we behave like spoiled children and go off in a huff, with a metaphorical flick of our hair and a metaphorical stamp of our feet? Or is it because we just don't see how patience can lead us to a deeper union with Christ? We haven't time, we say, we are too busy. Now, one of the funny things about time is how elastic it is. A five-minute wait can seem like eternity, while a whole day spent with someone we love can go by in a flash.
For many of us in Britain the snow and ice are giving opportunities we hadn't expected to change gear, to reconsider. We can't get on and do some of the things that last week looked important, even urgent. Here in the monastery we have had to reschedule meetings and journeys that have been in the diary for months. Other things have come to take their place, like clearing paths and dealing with burst pipes in church: not nearly so "important" as what we've had to cancel, but not things we can put off.
The key point about patience is not what we are asked to do but how we accept what is asked of us at any given moment. God, as we know, has an inconvenient habit of seeing differently from us. We can choose to co-operate, or we can refuse. Ultimately, patience is about preferring God's will to our own. Our plans may have gone awry, but His may not.
Why do we find patience so difficult? Is it because we want instant solutions, instant results (even in prayer); so when we don't get what we want, we behave like spoiled children and go off in a huff, with a metaphorical flick of our hair and a metaphorical stamp of our feet? Or is it because we just don't see how patience can lead us to a deeper union with Christ? We haven't time, we say, we are too busy. Now, one of the funny things about time is how elastic it is. A five-minute wait can seem like eternity, while a whole day spent with someone we love can go by in a flash.
For many of us in Britain the snow and ice are giving opportunities we hadn't expected to change gear, to reconsider. We can't get on and do some of the things that last week looked important, even urgent. Here in the monastery we have had to reschedule meetings and journeys that have been in the diary for months. Other things have come to take their place, like clearing paths and dealing with burst pipes in church: not nearly so "important" as what we've had to cancel, but not things we can put off.
The key point about patience is not what we are asked to do but how we accept what is asked of us at any given moment. God, as we know, has an inconvenient habit of seeing differently from us. We can choose to co-operate, or we can refuse. Ultimately, patience is about preferring God's will to our own. Our plans may have gone awry, but His may not.
Snow
06/January/2010
Sheep may safely graze, but only because the farmer has been out dropping feed. The scene by Hill Farm at eight o'clock this morning.
St Mary's Church glimpsed through the hedge a little later. The silence was almost complete, suggesting that the A34 rush-hour didn't happen this morning. Snow is a very effective muffler of sound, so Digitalnun began thinking of all her favourite quotations about snow, ending with "Soft as roosting birds falls the snow". That one is from scripture. If you have nothing else to do today because you can't get to work, why not spend half an hour looking at references to snow in the bible? You might be surprised how many there are.
Update: we have just heard of the death of Mgr Graham Leonard. Please pray for the repose of the soul of this great priest and pastor, for the consolation of his widow, Priscilla, and for his many friends who mourn his passing even as they rejoice that his sufferings are at an end. Requiescat in pace.
Clergy Unions
05/January/2010
From time to time Colophon peeps over the fence to see what others are up to and generally finds much to ponder. The idea of Anglican clergy joining a Trade Union is not new, but the current spate of openness about the reasons for doing so probably is. Bullying is something all Churches condemn but are sometimes guilty of, at both the individual and the institutional level. Bishops bullying parish clergy; parishioners bullying clergy; choir directors bullying clergy and parishioners: the list of possibilities is endless. While we smile, there is a serious issue which needs to be addressed, though one doubts whether Unionisation is the answer.
Religious authority is difficult to get right. For the believer, obedience is a good thing, but it means taking a huge risk. We may believe that God's authority is mediated through human beings; but human beings, as we know, tend to get things wrong. When someone charged with authority identifies his/her own will with that of God, the consequences can be terrible. (When someone not charged with authority identifies his/her will with that of God, the results can be equally dire but they are not invested with the religious significance of episcopal/clerical utterance.) Benedict was well aware of this tendency, of course; but the checks and guards he provides for the monastery only really work when everyone agrees that they should and is genuinely seeking the good of all in a comparatively small society. The exercise of authority in the wider Church can be more complicated. Injustices do occur and are not always righted. Part of the trouble, I suspect, is the high value we place on "autonomy". Autonomy is a fine thing when everything is going well, but when it isn't, "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"
Religious authority is difficult to get right. For the believer, obedience is a good thing, but it means taking a huge risk. We may believe that God's authority is mediated through human beings; but human beings, as we know, tend to get things wrong. When someone charged with authority identifies his/her own will with that of God, the consequences can be terrible. (When someone not charged with authority identifies his/her will with that of God, the results can be equally dire but they are not invested with the religious significance of episcopal/clerical utterance.) Benedict was well aware of this tendency, of course; but the checks and guards he provides for the monastery only really work when everyone agrees that they should and is genuinely seeking the good of all in a comparatively small society. The exercise of authority in the wider Church can be more complicated. Injustices do occur and are not always righted. Part of the trouble, I suspect, is the high value we place on "autonomy". Autonomy is a fine thing when everything is going well, but when it isn't, "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"
Light
04/January/2010
Did you notice how beautiful the light was yesterday? The tree branches were rimmed with silver; even the gloomiest patches of laurel were transformed. I was thinking about that this morning when I got up and realised we faced three hours of darkness before daybreak. Peter of Celles used to love the long dark winter nights because they gave him more time for prayer. In the twenty-first century we are more inclined to switch on electric lights and deny the darkness. We need to get on, do what we want to do; the natural rhythms of night and day are barriers to be overcome.
New Year resolutions are probably already looking a little limp, but perhaps we could spend a moment or two today asking how far we have allowed ourselves to become strangers to the natural rhythms of night and day, the season, even our own bodies (hands up those who went to bed last night muttering that they had spent too long in front of the television?). The connection with prayer may not be immediately obvious, but one of the first requirements of the contemplative is to look and take notice, to allow God the opportunity to speak. And when God speaks, things happen.
New Year resolutions are probably already looking a little limp, but perhaps we could spend a moment or two today asking how far we have allowed ourselves to become strangers to the natural rhythms of night and day, the season, even our own bodies (hands up those who went to bed last night muttering that they had spent too long in front of the television?). The connection with prayer may not be immediately obvious, but one of the first requirements of the contemplative is to look and take notice, to allow God the opportunity to speak. And when God speaks, things happen.
Epiphany 2010
03/January/2010
Epiphany is one of my favourite feasts, steeped in beauty and mystery, with many levels of meaning. The Magnificat antiphon reminds us of the miraculous ways in which Christ manifested his glory. "We honour the day adorned with three miracles. Today a star led the Magi to the crib; today water was made into wine for the wedding-feast; today Christ willed to be baptized in the Jordan." Thus, Christ showed his glory to the gentiles, prepared the Church as his Bride and made holy all the waters of the earth, taking away our sin. There in a nutshell is what Incarnation and Redemption is all about. Theology expressed as poetry, music and ritual is probably the only way some of us can begin to grasp such sublime Truth.
Life is not all theology, however. One of the things that keeps me Catholic is the fact that it is such a cheerful religion: it doesn't fudge death and judgement, heaven and hell; doesn't promise (contrary to what many believe) an easy forgiveness for sin; but it does allow us to be human and to take seriously what it means for God to become human also. As an Englishwoman, I especially like the way in which it lets us use humour as a means of approaching God and the things of God.
The photograph above from Autun shows a medieval sculptor's idea of the Magi on their way to the crib: all three cosily tucked up in bed, two of them with eyes fast shut, the third being gently awoken by an angel touching his little finger and pointing out the star they must follow. Medieval ideas of the majesty of kingship crumble before this tender portrait. It too tells us something about Epiphany. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords is as humble and approachable as a baby in a manger; and who would not smile at such a welcome and welcoming thought?
Larkin Was Wrong
02/January/2010
Larkin was wrong. St Basil the Great (c. 329-379), whose Memoria we keep today, is a prime example of someone who made good because of, rather than in spite of, Mum and Dad and everyone else in the family circle. He was indisputably brilliant (nature? nurture? a bit of both?), one of the most distinguished Doctors of the Church. His early career was not without traces of a self-satisfied vanity which even great gifts cannot make attractive. But family tradition made a speciality of holiness, and poor Basil suffered a thorough-going conversion, largely through the influence of his sister, St Macrina the Younger. She had useful foundations on which to build: their grandmother had been St Macrina the Elder, their father St Basil the Elder, their mother, Emmelia, was the daughter of a martyr and instilled in all ten of her children what used to be called "habits of piety". If that sounds dreary, remember that we are talking about people who were highly educated, with myriad interests and minds like quicksilver. I doubt that conversation at the dinner table was entirely on heavenly things.
Macrina the Younger was not satisfied with turning Basil's life around: she had a profound effect on the life of another brother, Gregory of Nyssa, also a saint. (It is from Gregory that we learn of Basil's early worldliness. Given Gregory's love and admiration for his sister Macrina, we may wonder whether there was a little fraternal exaggeration of Basil's shortcomings.)
Basil was also lucky in his friends. St Gregory Nazianzus (also known as Gregory Nazianzus the Younger: names in this period are disappointingly repetitive) was devoted to him and wrote a rather fulsome life which contains much interesting detail. A later, painful estrangement only served to highlight the closeness of the earlier years of their friendship. He was not always so lucky in relations with his superiors who sometimes felt overshadowed by his gifts, and there were periods of exile and estrangement which must have cost him dear. Basil's letters provide fascinating insights into his many undertakings, his disputes, his concerns and his enthusiasms. It is, of course, as a promoter of coenobitic monasticism that he is particularly honoured by Benedictines, with the Long and the Short Rules both being important sources.
It is, however, as a child positively influenced by his upbringing that we might think of Basil this morning. His life is an encouragement to parents unsure of the effect they are having on their offspring. It is even more of an encouragement to elder sisters (especially bossy ones). I wonder if that holds for monastic communities, too.
Macrina the Younger was not satisfied with turning Basil's life around: she had a profound effect on the life of another brother, Gregory of Nyssa, also a saint. (It is from Gregory that we learn of Basil's early worldliness. Given Gregory's love and admiration for his sister Macrina, we may wonder whether there was a little fraternal exaggeration of Basil's shortcomings.)
Basil was also lucky in his friends. St Gregory Nazianzus (also known as Gregory Nazianzus the Younger: names in this period are disappointingly repetitive) was devoted to him and wrote a rather fulsome life which contains much interesting detail. A later, painful estrangement only served to highlight the closeness of the earlier years of their friendship. He was not always so lucky in relations with his superiors who sometimes felt overshadowed by his gifts, and there were periods of exile and estrangement which must have cost him dear. Basil's letters provide fascinating insights into his many undertakings, his disputes, his concerns and his enthusiasms. It is, of course, as a promoter of coenobitic monasticism that he is particularly honoured by Benedictines, with the Long and the Short Rules both being important sources.
It is, however, as a child positively influenced by his upbringing that we might think of Basil this morning. His life is an encouragement to parents unsure of the effect they are having on their offspring. It is even more of an encouragement to elder sisters (especially bossy ones). I wonder if that holds for monastic communities, too.
A New Year
01/January/2010
With two thirds of the community currently hors de combat, the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God and Octave Day of Christmas is being celebrated in rather low-key fashion: no choral liturgy (if you except the cacophony of coughs, sneezes and wheezes that resounds throughout the house); no fine festive fare (unless you consider a bowl of thin soup a gourmet delight); and no toasting of the feast and of the year with a glass of decent wine. But we did greet the midnight chimes, as always, with a Vigil of Prayer, held hermit-style in separate rooms, and the dissipation of Digitalnun, at least, extended to a cup of a well-known blackcurrant cordial afterwards (and, alas, enough antibiotics to make her rattle!).
How different all this was from what we had planned. It is good to begin a New Year with the realisation that we are not in charge, that "there's a divinity that shapes our ends/ rough-hew them how we will." For some that is a stumbling-block, something to be feared and rebelled against; for others, it is a freedom, a liberation from the tyranny of believing that we must do everything ourselves. Perhaps 2010 will be the year when we all finally learn that human pride and folly are destructive and undergo a change of heart, what Christians call "conversion". We none of us know what this year will hold; but the community here will be constant in prayer, please God; and prayer, as we know, can achieve great things.
May God grant you your heart's desire this year, and more important, His heart's desire for each one of you.
(Podcasts will resume when one of the community can manage a few words without splutters.)
How different all this was from what we had planned. It is good to begin a New Year with the realisation that we are not in charge, that "there's a divinity that shapes our ends/ rough-hew them how we will." For some that is a stumbling-block, something to be feared and rebelled against; for others, it is a freedom, a liberation from the tyranny of believing that we must do everything ourselves. Perhaps 2010 will be the year when we all finally learn that human pride and folly are destructive and undergo a change of heart, what Christians call "conversion". We none of us know what this year will hold; but the community here will be constant in prayer, please God; and prayer, as we know, can achieve great things.
May God grant you your heart's desire this year, and more important, His heart's desire for each one of you.
(Podcasts will resume when one of the community can manage a few words without splutters.)
Holy Innocents
28/December/2009
The Flight into Egypt by Nicholas Mynheer
Copyright © Nicholas Mynheer. Reproduction prohibited.
Used here by kind permission of the artist
Today's gospel is Matthew's account of the flight into Egypt. When I first typed those words I wrote "light into Egypt" which not only seemed peculiarly appropriate but also called to mind the above painting by Nicholas Mynheer. No, I am not going to "explain" the symbolism but just let you meditate on all the imagery suggests. You can find more of Nicholas's work at his new web site, http://www.mynheer-art.co.uk/
Christmas 2009
25/December/2009
VERBUM CARO FACTUM EST
We wish all our oblates, associates, friends and cybervisitors
a very happy Christmas.
May the Prince of Peace fill your hearts and homes
with joy and gladness.
We shall keep you in our prayers.
Mass will be offered for your intentions
on Monday, 28 December.
THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH
JOY TO ALL THE WORLD
Christmas Eve 2009
24/December/2009
Two years ago Colophon observed:
No need for further speech, true, but we continue to babble because we are afraid of that mysterious silence out of which the all-powerful word of God speaks. Somehow we need to recover a little interior silence to allow what we celebrate to remain at the heart of all we do and say. It won't mean our being any less genial, nor, alas, less busy, but it might make Christmas less stressful because we shall be more relaxed about the inevitable gap between expectation and reality, especially the expectation we have of ourselves.
If that seems paradoxical (relaxed? at Christmas?) just remember, Jesus was content with very little: a shelter, his mother's milk, somewhere to lay his head. We do not have to be perfect to pease him, nor do we have to be perfect to please others. Those we love are lovable with all their shortcomings; so are we. Married, single, widowed, divorced or separated; alone or with others; as a member of a religious community or as a hermit; we need to slow down (yes, slow down!) and lose ourselves, just for a moment or two, in wonder at the nearness of our God. "Tonight is born for you the Saviour of the World." Let us be glad and give thanks.
One of the most beautiful parts of the Christmas Eve liturgy is the singing of the Martyrology which situates the birth of Christ in time and place. When we reach the words "All the earth being at peace . . ." the music becomes more and more intense, until finally the Incarnation is announced on a falling cadence. When God has uttered his Word, there is no need for further speech.
No need for further speech, true, but we continue to babble because we are afraid of that mysterious silence out of which the all-powerful word of God speaks. Somehow we need to recover a little interior silence to allow what we celebrate to remain at the heart of all we do and say. It won't mean our being any less genial, nor, alas, less busy, but it might make Christmas less stressful because we shall be more relaxed about the inevitable gap between expectation and reality, especially the expectation we have of ourselves.
If that seems paradoxical (relaxed? at Christmas?) just remember, Jesus was content with very little: a shelter, his mother's milk, somewhere to lay his head. We do not have to be perfect to pease him, nor do we have to be perfect to please others. Those we love are lovable with all their shortcomings; so are we. Married, single, widowed, divorced or separated; alone or with others; as a member of a religious community or as a hermit; we need to slow down (yes, slow down!) and lose ourselves, just for a moment or two, in wonder at the nearness of our God. "Tonight is born for you the Saviour of the World." Let us be glad and give thanks.
O Emmanuel
23/December/2009
(For information about this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page.)
Today's Mass readings are Malachi 3. 1-4, 23-24 and Luke 1. 57-66. The responsorial psalm is taken from psalm 24, and, instead of the antiphon of the day, O Emmanuel, we have a version yesterday's (O Rex Gentium). Once again Colophon will be perverse and consider the Mass readings in the light of O Emmanuel, the last of the Great "O"s.
According to Malachi, the advent of the Lord was to be preceded by the coming of his messenger, the prophet Elijah. The identification of Elijah with John the Baptist was made by the Lord Jesus himself ("I tell you solemnly, Elijah has come…") but it is easy to see in Luke's account of the Baptist's ministry parallels with that of Elijah, especially in that fiery zeal for God which must have been so uncomfortable for his listeners. But it is the end of today's gospel passage which draws our attention. "'What will this child turn out to be?" [the people] wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was upon him."' Here, just before the birth of Christ, we are asked to consider the birth of his forerunner, the man who would prepare the way for him. John's birth was strange and there is a sense that something stranger still is about to take place. Who could have foreseen that the Son of God was about to be born? We know that John will be driven out into the desert by his love for God; that he will live on the margins of society, dress in weird garments and live on an austere diet; that he will be fearless in proclaiming the truth, challenge the kings of this world and pay the price exacted for such courage; that he will point his own disciples towards Christ and rejoice that he himself must diminish. And all because "the hand of the Lord was upon him."
Tonight's antiphon prepares us for the coming of Christ by heaping upon him titles which explain who he is and what he has come to do. As King and Law-giver he fulfils the promise of the Old Testament; he is the one for whom, whether knowingly or unknowingly, the whole of humanity (= the gentiles) has been longing; he is the Saviour of all. It is as Emmanuel, God-with-us, that we invoke him and ask him again to come and save us.
Today's Mass readings are Malachi 3. 1-4, 23-24 and Luke 1. 57-66. The responsorial psalm is taken from psalm 24, and, instead of the antiphon of the day, O Emmanuel, we have a version yesterday's (O Rex Gentium). Once again Colophon will be perverse and consider the Mass readings in the light of O Emmanuel, the last of the Great "O"s.
According to Malachi, the advent of the Lord was to be preceded by the coming of his messenger, the prophet Elijah. The identification of Elijah with John the Baptist was made by the Lord Jesus himself ("I tell you solemnly, Elijah has come…") but it is easy to see in Luke's account of the Baptist's ministry parallels with that of Elijah, especially in that fiery zeal for God which must have been so uncomfortable for his listeners. But it is the end of today's gospel passage which draws our attention. "'What will this child turn out to be?" [the people] wondered. And indeed the hand of the Lord was upon him."' Here, just before the birth of Christ, we are asked to consider the birth of his forerunner, the man who would prepare the way for him. John's birth was strange and there is a sense that something stranger still is about to take place. Who could have foreseen that the Son of God was about to be born? We know that John will be driven out into the desert by his love for God; that he will live on the margins of society, dress in weird garments and live on an austere diet; that he will be fearless in proclaiming the truth, challenge the kings of this world and pay the price exacted for such courage; that he will point his own disciples towards Christ and rejoice that he himself must diminish. And all because "the hand of the Lord was upon him."
Tonight's antiphon prepares us for the coming of Christ by heaping upon him titles which explain who he is and what he has come to do. As King and Law-giver he fulfils the promise of the Old Testament; he is the one for whom, whether knowingly or unknowingly, the whole of humanity (= the gentiles) has been longing; he is the Saviour of all. It is as Emmanuel, God-with-us, that we invoke him and ask him again to come and save us.
O Rex Gentium
22/December/2009
(For information about this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page.)
Today's Mass readings could be described as a celebration of the Magnificat, a sustained exposition of Mary's song of praise. We begin with 1 Samuel 1. 24-28, the story of Hannah's dedication of the infant Samuel to the service of the Lord; as responsorial psalm we sing her song of triumph, 1 Samuel 2. 1, 4-8, on which so much of the Magnificat is based; the alternative gospel acclamation echoes the O antiphon of the day, O Rex Gentium, while the gospel is the Magnificat itself, Luke 1. 46-56.
What are we to make of all this joy and gladness? Why do we exult? Surely it is because we have been given a rare privilege. For gentile Christians being adopted into the "family of God", sharing in the promises made to his Chosen People, and coming to know Jesus Christ as Lord is something beyond our wildest dreams. When we look at our Saviour, we can say with Hannah, "This is the child I prayed for, and the Lord has given me what I asked"; and with Mary, "The Almighty has done great things for me; holy is his name." At our baptism we received the gift God offered us, made our profession of faith (or had it made for us by our godparents) and so were welcomed into the community of believers, the Church. We were baptised into Christ's death that we might rise with him to newness of life. This is the new creation we sing about with such wonder and gratitude. Of course, we "know all that"; but these last days of Advent are a good time for reminding ourselves of truths that sometimes slip from view. Just as the snow is making us look at the world about us with fresh eyes, so the liturgy can help us focus anew on the miracle of salvation.
Tonight's O antiphon provides an exquisite setting for the Magnificat. It expresses our deep longing for redemption and recalls the act by which the Lord Jesus opened the way of salvation to all. Jew and gentile have been made one through his sacrifice on the Cross. He has become the corner-stone because he alone can save, can breathe new life into those he formed from the dust of earth.
Today's Mass readings could be described as a celebration of the Magnificat, a sustained exposition of Mary's song of praise. We begin with 1 Samuel 1. 24-28, the story of Hannah's dedication of the infant Samuel to the service of the Lord; as responsorial psalm we sing her song of triumph, 1 Samuel 2. 1, 4-8, on which so much of the Magnificat is based; the alternative gospel acclamation echoes the O antiphon of the day, O Rex Gentium, while the gospel is the Magnificat itself, Luke 1. 46-56.
What are we to make of all this joy and gladness? Why do we exult? Surely it is because we have been given a rare privilege. For gentile Christians being adopted into the "family of God", sharing in the promises made to his Chosen People, and coming to know Jesus Christ as Lord is something beyond our wildest dreams. When we look at our Saviour, we can say with Hannah, "This is the child I prayed for, and the Lord has given me what I asked"; and with Mary, "The Almighty has done great things for me; holy is his name." At our baptism we received the gift God offered us, made our profession of faith (or had it made for us by our godparents) and so were welcomed into the community of believers, the Church. We were baptised into Christ's death that we might rise with him to newness of life. This is the new creation we sing about with such wonder and gratitude. Of course, we "know all that"; but these last days of Advent are a good time for reminding ourselves of truths that sometimes slip from view. Just as the snow is making us look at the world about us with fresh eyes, so the liturgy can help us focus anew on the miracle of salvation.
Tonight's O antiphon provides an exquisite setting for the Magnificat. It expresses our deep longing for redemption and recalls the act by which the Lord Jesus opened the way of salvation to all. Jew and gentile have been made one through his sacrifice on the Cross. He has become the corner-stone because he alone can save, can breathe new life into those he formed from the dust of earth.
O Oriens
21/December/2009
(For information about this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page. Please note that the concluding prayer (veni …) is in the plural form, not singular as it was yesterday. Now read on.)
Today at Mass we read either the Song of Songs 2. 8-14 or, as we do in community, Zephaniah 3. 14-18, and the account of the Visitation we had yesterday, Luke 1. 39-45, with verses from psalm 32 as responsorial psalm. The gospel acclamation ignores the O antiphon for the day and instead provides shortened forms of those for 20 and 23 December. We shall not do likewise because to address Christ as the Morning Star (O Oriens) on this, the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, is symbolic of our hope both for this world and the next.
The exuberant joy of the passage from Zephaniah finds a lively echo in the gospel. Neither Elizabeth nor John can contain their gladness at the nearness of their Lord, and although we do not read the next few verses of Luke today, we know that they contain Mary's own hymn of rejoicing, the Magnificat. There is a world of difference between such Spirit-filled outpourings and the forced jollity of some of the "worship songs" inflicted on innocent congregations. But the presence of such delight in God begs the question. How often do we receive the gospel as Good News? How often do we welcome the coming of God as cause for celebration? Too frequently, I suspect, we are a little piano, unwilling to risk all that admitting God into our lives "with no holds barred" may involve. We prefer the dimness of the familiar and safe to the brilliance of the unexpected.
Tonight as we sing the Magnificat antiphon, hailing Christ as Splendour of Eternal Light and Sun of Justice, we shall be reminded that we are children of light, not creatures of darkness. As Christians we are, so to say, professional risk-takers, ready to be light-bearers in any and every situation. It requires effort, of course, just as it required effort on Mary's part to be a Light-bearer to Elizabeth; but only so can our prayer embrace the whole human race, "Come and free those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death."
Today at Mass we read either the Song of Songs 2. 8-14 or, as we do in community, Zephaniah 3. 14-18, and the account of the Visitation we had yesterday, Luke 1. 39-45, with verses from psalm 32 as responsorial psalm. The gospel acclamation ignores the O antiphon for the day and instead provides shortened forms of those for 20 and 23 December. We shall not do likewise because to address Christ as the Morning Star (O Oriens) on this, the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, is symbolic of our hope both for this world and the next.
The exuberant joy of the passage from Zephaniah finds a lively echo in the gospel. Neither Elizabeth nor John can contain their gladness at the nearness of their Lord, and although we do not read the next few verses of Luke today, we know that they contain Mary's own hymn of rejoicing, the Magnificat. There is a world of difference between such Spirit-filled outpourings and the forced jollity of some of the "worship songs" inflicted on innocent congregations. But the presence of such delight in God begs the question. How often do we receive the gospel as Good News? How often do we welcome the coming of God as cause for celebration? Too frequently, I suspect, we are a little piano, unwilling to risk all that admitting God into our lives "with no holds barred" may involve. We prefer the dimness of the familiar and safe to the brilliance of the unexpected.
Tonight as we sing the Magnificat antiphon, hailing Christ as Splendour of Eternal Light and Sun of Justice, we shall be reminded that we are children of light, not creatures of darkness. As Christians we are, so to say, professional risk-takers, ready to be light-bearers in any and every situation. It requires effort, of course, just as it required effort on Mary's part to be a Light-bearer to Elizabeth; but only so can our prayer embrace the whole human race, "Come and free those sitting in darkness and the shadow of death."
O Clavis David
20/December/2009
(For information about this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page.)
This is the day on which, throughout the Benedictine world, a sermon or talk known as the Missus Est is traditionally given to the community, in keeping with the gospel for 20 December, Luke 1. 26-38. It is not difficult to link the Annunciation with the antiphon O Clavis David, but the readings of the Fourth Sunday of Advent take precedence over the ferial ones; so instead of the Annunciation, we are invited to reflect on the Visitation, Luke 1. 39-45, together with Micah 5. 1-4, Hebrews 10. 5-10, and verses from psalm 80.
Unusually, all three Mass readings focus attention on the body of the one we are awaiting. There is the mysterious prophecy in Micah of "the time when she is to give birth gives birth"; in Hebrews there are references to the "body you prepared for me" and "the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all"; and the gospel has Elizabeth's lyrical outburst, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" while the unborn John the Baptist senses the nearness of his God and dances for joy in his mother's womb.
This concentration on the sheer physicality of birth and the "bodyliness" of the Lord Jesus should make us think. We do not worship a God who is somehow "out there", remote, uninterested, uninvolved. On the contrary, we worship a God who, in Christ Jesus, has experienced what it is to be human, who has promised to be with us always, to the end of time. As Christopher Smart said so well, he is "a native/Of the world he made." He is also, as Isaiah prophesied, the Key of David, the Sceptre of the house of Israel, to whom all authority in heaven and on earth has been committed; but unlike many politicians who strut about the world's stage, sometimes leaving things a little better but often much worse, not culpably or intentionally but because their interests are limited to their own time or their own country (think Copenhagen), Jesus' ambition, so to say, is cosmic. There is nothing and no-one beyond the scope of his love and mercy. He wants to free us from the prisons we have made for ourselves, the grubby little sins and shabby half-truths that prevent our becoming what he desires us to be. Tragically, we often prefer a half-life in chains to living fully the glorious freedom of the children of God. If we could only believe how much he loves us, we could pray with perfect confidence "come and free from prison one who sits in darkness and the shadow of death."
This is the day on which, throughout the Benedictine world, a sermon or talk known as the Missus Est is traditionally given to the community, in keeping with the gospel for 20 December, Luke 1. 26-38. It is not difficult to link the Annunciation with the antiphon O Clavis David, but the readings of the Fourth Sunday of Advent take precedence over the ferial ones; so instead of the Annunciation, we are invited to reflect on the Visitation, Luke 1. 39-45, together with Micah 5. 1-4, Hebrews 10. 5-10, and verses from psalm 80.
Unusually, all three Mass readings focus attention on the body of the one we are awaiting. There is the mysterious prophecy in Micah of "the time when she is to give birth gives birth"; in Hebrews there are references to the "body you prepared for me" and "the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all"; and the gospel has Elizabeth's lyrical outburst, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" while the unborn John the Baptist senses the nearness of his God and dances for joy in his mother's womb.
This concentration on the sheer physicality of birth and the "bodyliness" of the Lord Jesus should make us think. We do not worship a God who is somehow "out there", remote, uninterested, uninvolved. On the contrary, we worship a God who, in Christ Jesus, has experienced what it is to be human, who has promised to be with us always, to the end of time. As Christopher Smart said so well, he is "a native/Of the world he made." He is also, as Isaiah prophesied, the Key of David, the Sceptre of the house of Israel, to whom all authority in heaven and on earth has been committed; but unlike many politicians who strut about the world's stage, sometimes leaving things a little better but often much worse, not culpably or intentionally but because their interests are limited to their own time or their own country (think Copenhagen), Jesus' ambition, so to say, is cosmic. There is nothing and no-one beyond the scope of his love and mercy. He wants to free us from the prisons we have made for ourselves, the grubby little sins and shabby half-truths that prevent our becoming what he desires us to be. Tragically, we often prefer a half-life in chains to living fully the glorious freedom of the children of God. If we could only believe how much he loves us, we could pray with perfect confidence "come and free from prison one who sits in darkness and the shadow of death."
O Radix Jesse
19/December/2009
(For information about this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page.)
Today at Mass we read Judges 13. 2-7; 24-25 and Luke 1. 5-25, with verses of psalm 70 and a shortened version of O Radix Jesse before the gospel. Once again we reflect how God brings life and hope where previously there was only death and despair. The theme of the barren woman miraculously made fertile is found throughout the Old Testament and lies at the heart of the promise made to Abraham and Sarah. The birth of Samson and of John the Baptist belong to this genre and have some striking parallels. The appearance of the angel of the Lord, the giving of the promise (only half-believed by Zechariah), and the setting apart for God's service of the child who will be born (indicated in both cases by the requirement to live as a nazirite, abstaining from wine and strong drink) can blind us to differences which are perhaps even more telling than the similarities.
The Lord blessed Samson, his Spirit moved him, but Samson's ultimate failure was as tragic as his vocation was heroic. There was no such failure with John. He did indeed inherit the spirit and power of Elijah, was filled even from his mother's womb with the Holy Spirit and proved great in the sight of the Lord. ("I tell you solemnly that among those born of women, there has arisen none greater than John the Baptist.") Yet we know that, great as John was, his role was to point to someone greater still. Mary would not doubt the angel's message but embrace God's will with joyful alacrity (genoito moi kata to rhema suo has much more eagerness in it than our rather feeble "Let it be done to me according to your word" can convey), and God would work in her a wonder the world had never seen before and never would again. Jesus would be born of a virgin, not a barren woman; and he would prove to be the true Deliverer of Israel, before whom kings would fall silent and in search of whom the gentiles would come.
How does this tie up with O Radix Jesse? The symbolism of the antiphon is clear enough, but Paul helps to articulate the theology underpinning it, especially in Romans 15. 8-13. He says Christ became a servant of the Jewish people to maintain God's faithfulness by making good God's promises to the patriarchs and by giving the gentiles cause to glorify God for his mercy. He quotes Isaiah also, for Christ is that scion of Jesse who will rule over the gentiles and in whom they will place their hope. What is this promise to Israel, this mercy shown to the gentiles, this hope we all share? Surely it is freedom from sin and death and the enjoyment of eternal life made possible through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on Calvary? The Messiah for whom Israel has prayed and longed is become the Saviour of the World. All the jangling discordances of humanity are quieted; the divine harmony is restored; but here on earth we have yet to experience the fullness of redemption. So we pray, "Come and free us; delay no longer!"
Today at Mass we read Judges 13. 2-7; 24-25 and Luke 1. 5-25, with verses of psalm 70 and a shortened version of O Radix Jesse before the gospel. Once again we reflect how God brings life and hope where previously there was only death and despair. The theme of the barren woman miraculously made fertile is found throughout the Old Testament and lies at the heart of the promise made to Abraham and Sarah. The birth of Samson and of John the Baptist belong to this genre and have some striking parallels. The appearance of the angel of the Lord, the giving of the promise (only half-believed by Zechariah), and the setting apart for God's service of the child who will be born (indicated in both cases by the requirement to live as a nazirite, abstaining from wine and strong drink) can blind us to differences which are perhaps even more telling than the similarities.
The Lord blessed Samson, his Spirit moved him, but Samson's ultimate failure was as tragic as his vocation was heroic. There was no such failure with John. He did indeed inherit the spirit and power of Elijah, was filled even from his mother's womb with the Holy Spirit and proved great in the sight of the Lord. ("I tell you solemnly that among those born of women, there has arisen none greater than John the Baptist.") Yet we know that, great as John was, his role was to point to someone greater still. Mary would not doubt the angel's message but embrace God's will with joyful alacrity (genoito moi kata to rhema suo has much more eagerness in it than our rather feeble "Let it be done to me according to your word" can convey), and God would work in her a wonder the world had never seen before and never would again. Jesus would be born of a virgin, not a barren woman; and he would prove to be the true Deliverer of Israel, before whom kings would fall silent and in search of whom the gentiles would come.
How does this tie up with O Radix Jesse? The symbolism of the antiphon is clear enough, but Paul helps to articulate the theology underpinning it, especially in Romans 15. 8-13. He says Christ became a servant of the Jewish people to maintain God's faithfulness by making good God's promises to the patriarchs and by giving the gentiles cause to glorify God for his mercy. He quotes Isaiah also, for Christ is that scion of Jesse who will rule over the gentiles and in whom they will place their hope. What is this promise to Israel, this mercy shown to the gentiles, this hope we all share? Surely it is freedom from sin and death and the enjoyment of eternal life made possible through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on Calvary? The Messiah for whom Israel has prayed and longed is become the Saviour of the World. All the jangling discordances of humanity are quieted; the divine harmony is restored; but here on earth we have yet to experience the fullness of redemption. So we pray, "Come and free us; delay no longer!"
O Adonai
18/December/2009
(For information on this O antiphon, text, music and recording, please see our liturgy page.)
For today's Mass readings we have Jeremiah 23. 5-8 and Matthew 1.18-24, with verses from psalm 71 and an abridged version of O Adonai as the link between them. The passage from Jeremiah is fascinating. Here is a portrait of true kingship; honest, wise, full of integrity, instilling confidence and enabling Israel to live in perfect freedom. This vision of messianic kingship is realised in Christ Jesus, who is indeed the "virtuous Branch of David", the fulfilment of the psalmist's dream. He is also to be identified with the all-Holy One who appeared to Moses in the burning bush, who gave the Law on Sinai and saved the Israelites with outstretched arm, just as the outstretched arms of the Lord Jesus on the cross brought salvation to all the world.
The gospel reading contains lots of difficulties for scripture scholars but we can derive much to think about without becoming too narrowly academic. Here we have a second Joseph, a man of dreams and integrity like the first, but one who, as a descendant of David, can confer on the Son who is to be born of Mary, all the privileges and expectations of his royal ancestry. There is something very likeable about Joseph. He is perplexed by Mary's pregnancy, tries to find a human solution to the "problem", but is utterly accepting of the angel's reassurance and command. No wonder he has become a model of Christian obedience. What draws our attention here, however, is the name disclosed to Joseph: Mary's Son is to be named Jesus, Joshua, because he is the one who is to save his people not from material slavery but from slavery to sin. We have entered into a new order of creation: God's ideas are so much bigger than our own. Well may we pray that he will come and save us with his outstretched arm.
For today's Mass readings we have Jeremiah 23. 5-8 and Matthew 1.18-24, with verses from psalm 71 and an abridged version of O Adonai as the link between them. The passage from Jeremiah is fascinating. Here is a portrait of true kingship; honest, wise, full of integrity, instilling confidence and enabling Israel to live in perfect freedom. This vision of messianic kingship is realised in Christ Jesus, who is indeed the "virtuous Branch of David", the fulfilment of the psalmist's dream. He is also to be identified with the all-Holy One who appeared to Moses in the burning bush, who gave the Law on Sinai and saved the Israelites with outstretched arm, just as the outstretched arms of the Lord Jesus on the cross brought salvation to all the world.
The gospel reading contains lots of difficulties for scripture scholars but we can derive much to think about without becoming too narrowly academic. Here we have a second Joseph, a man of dreams and integrity like the first, but one who, as a descendant of David, can confer on the Son who is to be born of Mary, all the privileges and expectations of his royal ancestry. There is something very likeable about Joseph. He is perplexed by Mary's pregnancy, tries to find a human solution to the "problem", but is utterly accepting of the angel's reassurance and command. No wonder he has become a model of Christian obedience. What draws our attention here, however, is the name disclosed to Joseph: Mary's Son is to be named Jesus, Joshua, because he is the one who is to save his people not from material slavery but from slavery to sin. We have entered into a new order of creation: God's ideas are so much bigger than our own. Well may we pray that he will come and save us with his outstretched arm.
O Sapientia
17/December/2009
In these last days of Advent we sing the "O" antiphons at Vespers with great solemnity: candles, incense, church bells, a special book from which to sing . . . all intended to focus mind and heart on the significance of the words. Colophon commented on the antiphons in 2007 and on our liturgy page you will find texts, music, and recordings (fear not, sung by others!) with some suggestions for scripture to ponder.
So it is with a cheerful conscience that we turn to the Mass readings for inspiration. Today we have Genesis 49. 2, 8-10 and Matthew 1. 1-17, together with Ps 71 and a curiously abridged version of O Sapientia as the Gospel Acclamation. The opening prayer of the Mass, with its breath-taking "may we share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity", will still be ringing in our ears when we hear the gospel. Some people find the Old Testament genealogies tiresome. Even the genealogy of Christ is sometimes read as though it were meaningless. But today we shall be reminded forcefully that God became man in Jesus Christ, that he came of an ordinary human family, and like all of us, had a few skeletons in his family cupboard. Look at some of the names in Matthew's list and you will see what I mean: alongside the great and good are the decently obscure and a few instances of what we might most kindly call folly.
We begin, of course, with Abraham, our father in faith, and go on through the patriarchs, some a little dodgy it is true, but made respectable by their antiquity; but what about Rahab? A prostitute is not the kind of ancestor most people glory in, unless she happens to be the paramour of kings. And Ruth, why, she wasn't even Jewish. David may have been the great hero of Judaism, the kind of king Israel hoped to find in the Messiah, but his son Solomon was born of adultery with Bathsheba. Only when we come to "Joseph the husband of Mary; of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ" does this long list of begetting reach its end. With Christ we come to the perfect fulfilment of creation, of everything the Divine Wisdom brought into being; and it is Christ whom we shall invoke tonight under the title of Wisdom and ask to come and teach us the way of prudence.
So it is with a cheerful conscience that we turn to the Mass readings for inspiration. Today we have Genesis 49. 2, 8-10 and Matthew 1. 1-17, together with Ps 71 and a curiously abridged version of O Sapientia as the Gospel Acclamation. The opening prayer of the Mass, with its breath-taking "may we share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity", will still be ringing in our ears when we hear the gospel. Some people find the Old Testament genealogies tiresome. Even the genealogy of Christ is sometimes read as though it were meaningless. But today we shall be reminded forcefully that God became man in Jesus Christ, that he came of an ordinary human family, and like all of us, had a few skeletons in his family cupboard. Look at some of the names in Matthew's list and you will see what I mean: alongside the great and good are the decently obscure and a few instances of what we might most kindly call folly.
We begin, of course, with Abraham, our father in faith, and go on through the patriarchs, some a little dodgy it is true, but made respectable by their antiquity; but what about Rahab? A prostitute is not the kind of ancestor most people glory in, unless she happens to be the paramour of kings. And Ruth, why, she wasn't even Jewish. David may have been the great hero of Judaism, the kind of king Israel hoped to find in the Messiah, but his son Solomon was born of adultery with Bathsheba. Only when we come to "Joseph the husband of Mary; of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ" does this long list of begetting reach its end. With Christ we come to the perfect fulfilment of creation, of everything the Divine Wisdom brought into being; and it is Christ whom we shall invoke tonight under the title of Wisdom and ask to come and teach us the way of prudence.
Zoom, Zoom
16/December/2009
As readers of this blog (all three of 'em?) will know, we want to update the equipment we use for making audio books for the blind and have been trying to find the most suitable then raise money to buy it. Our friend Joe has been helping Technonun research digital audio recorders and at (long) last they have agreed: the Zoom H4N is their recorder of choice to replace our outmoded and increasingly rackety cassette recorders. It is the only affordable digital recorder with a big enough screen and buttons for our "mature" volunteers to use comfortably, something that may be of interest to anyone with a similar problem.
Digitalnun is pleased about this choice as she already uses the H4N's baby brother, the HandyZoom, to record podcasts for our web site and is enthusiastic about the audio quality which can be obtained. She may not be quite so enthusiastic when she realises that to replace all the recording equipment used by our volunteer readers (i.e. the people who record the texts for us) is going to cost around £6,000, but never mind, Christmas is coming and one can always hope. Replacing the recorders will enable us to introduce phase 1 of our changeover to mp3 files and CDs and memory sticks. Introducing DAISY CDs for more complex books will take a while longer, not least because the kind of equipment needed is more expensive and the process involved more complicated, but at least we can expect to make a start in 2010.
Meanwhile Technonun is continuing to research OpenSource library software for the audio library. Perhaps someone reading this could make a suggestion about which would be most suitable? We have under 1,000 audio titles at present, but we need to keep track of who has what as well as maintaining a proper catalogue, preferably online as well as in St Cecilia's itself. We have two volunteers who are willing to do the keying-in for us and we don't want their enthusiasm to evaporate while we dither. We'd prefer a little more "zoom, zoom" all round, in fact.
Digitalnun is pleased about this choice as she already uses the H4N's baby brother, the HandyZoom, to record podcasts for our web site and is enthusiastic about the audio quality which can be obtained. She may not be quite so enthusiastic when she realises that to replace all the recording equipment used by our volunteer readers (i.e. the people who record the texts for us) is going to cost around £6,000, but never mind, Christmas is coming and one can always hope. Replacing the recorders will enable us to introduce phase 1 of our changeover to mp3 files and CDs and memory sticks. Introducing DAISY CDs for more complex books will take a while longer, not least because the kind of equipment needed is more expensive and the process involved more complicated, but at least we can expect to make a start in 2010.
Meanwhile Technonun is continuing to research OpenSource library software for the audio library. Perhaps someone reading this could make a suggestion about which would be most suitable? We have under 1,000 audio titles at present, but we need to keep track of who has what as well as maintaining a proper catalogue, preferably online as well as in St Cecilia's itself. We have two volunteers who are willing to do the keying-in for us and we don't want their enthusiasm to evaporate while we dither. We'd prefer a little more "zoom, zoom" all round, in fact.
Tuesday
15/December/2009
I'm not sure where Monday went: in a flurry of telephone calls, chauffering community members to various appointments and an inbox groaning with emails and letters, I suppose. All the ordinary things, praying, working, reading, cooking, tend to recede into the background on such days (though it did register with me that I was making apple pies at 9.00 p.m., practically midnight in monastic terms, because of the number of visitors expected at the week-end!).
The trouble with Advent is the difficulty of matching expectations with reality. We want to give more time to God, to prepare thoughtfully for the coming feasts of Christmas and Epiphany, and we know that silence and solitude are important aspects of that. But we can't opt out of the busyness of life which seems so much more intense at this season of the year, and we certainly can't refuse to answer the doorbell unless we have hearts of stone (which perhaps we do: awful thought). The alternative is to embrace the busyness, to see it as part of the preparation. In other words, to stop railing against the demands on our time and energy and accept them as the way in which we are enabled to celebrate properly, a necessary part of our sanctification.
I am a long way from having achieved that myself. I am quite sure I shall continue to go to bed each night mentally comparing my "to do" list with my "have done" list and fretting about the discrepancy. I am equally sure, alas, I shall continue to be grumpy whenever someone asks me if I could "please just" do something or other. I'll continue to wake up most mornings looking like a lemur. BUT, I also trust that somewhere, somehow, in the midst of all this apparent failure, grace will be at work, that even what I see as failure can be transformed; is, in some small way, part of God's plan for my life and the lives of those with whom I come into contact, so that when I come to celebrate Christmas, it will be as a humbler, possibly less selfish, person than would otherwise have been the case. I hope so; I really hope so.
The trouble with Advent is the difficulty of matching expectations with reality. We want to give more time to God, to prepare thoughtfully for the coming feasts of Christmas and Epiphany, and we know that silence and solitude are important aspects of that. But we can't opt out of the busyness of life which seems so much more intense at this season of the year, and we certainly can't refuse to answer the doorbell unless we have hearts of stone (which perhaps we do: awful thought). The alternative is to embrace the busyness, to see it as part of the preparation. In other words, to stop railing against the demands on our time and energy and accept them as the way in which we are enabled to celebrate properly, a necessary part of our sanctification.
I am a long way from having achieved that myself. I am quite sure I shall continue to go to bed each night mentally comparing my "to do" list with my "have done" list and fretting about the discrepancy. I am equally sure, alas, I shall continue to be grumpy whenever someone asks me if I could "please just" do something or other. I'll continue to wake up most mornings looking like a lemur. BUT, I also trust that somewhere, somehow, in the midst of all this apparent failure, grace will be at work, that even what I see as failure can be transformed; is, in some small way, part of God's plan for my life and the lives of those with whom I come into contact, so that when I come to celebrate Christmas, it will be as a humbler, possibly less selfish, person than would otherwise have been the case. I hope so; I really hope so.
Conditor alme siderum
13/December/2009
The kindest thing anyone has ever said about our musical ability is that we are "brave" to sing the whole of the Divine Office. It is with some trepidation, therefore, that one dares to say anything about the Advent Vesper hymn, Conditor alme siderum (O Loving Creator of the stars), but the combination of shooting stars overhead and Gaudete Sunday is irresistible. For anyone who lives in a monastery, the melody of the hymn is so evocative that one might almost say it is Advent.
Opinions differ as to the hymn's authorship. Some ascribe it to St Ambrose himself, others more cautiously credit it to "Anon. seventh century". Either way, in just five classical Ambrosian quatrains plus a doxology, the writer gives us an overview of salvation history, all the more powerful for being expressed with great simplicity and economy: Christ himself is the creator of the stars of night, the light of all believers, who came to save a fallen world under sentence of death; as Bridegroom of the Bride, he came at evening time from the spotless womb of the Virgin; now all creation acknowledges him as Lord and awaits his Second Coming and the Day of Judgement. These are the great themes of Advent and the melody of the accompanying chant, haunting in its simplicity, is one of the most beautiful in the repertoire.
For those who would like to ponder the hymn as lectio divina, the text, translation and music are given below (click on the icon to download the PDF). Finding a non-copyright recording has been more difficult. We tend to sing the hymn as taught by our mentors, with a light, almost dancing movement (hence shooting stars . . .). There is a slightly ponderous recording from Belo Horizonte here. Best of all, however, would be for you to learn to sing the hymn yourself. If plainchant is new to you a good place to start is the excellent Musica Sacra site.
Conditor download
There is a recording of our latest Virtual Chapter on the podcast page. We now know that the echo chamber effect is caused when someone uses an inbuilt computer microphone rather than a headset, so technically this last recording is a great improvement on 28 November's. The next Chapter will be in the New Year.
This week's prayer podcast is on the podcast page. Gaudete!
Opinions differ as to the hymn's authorship. Some ascribe it to St Ambrose himself, others more cautiously credit it to "Anon. seventh century". Either way, in just five classical Ambrosian quatrains plus a doxology, the writer gives us an overview of salvation history, all the more powerful for being expressed with great simplicity and economy: Christ himself is the creator of the stars of night, the light of all believers, who came to save a fallen world under sentence of death; as Bridegroom of the Bride, he came at evening time from the spotless womb of the Virgin; now all creation acknowledges him as Lord and awaits his Second Coming and the Day of Judgement. These are the great themes of Advent and the melody of the accompanying chant, haunting in its simplicity, is one of the most beautiful in the repertoire.
For those who would like to ponder the hymn as lectio divina, the text, translation and music are given below (click on the icon to download the PDF). Finding a non-copyright recording has been more difficult. We tend to sing the hymn as taught by our mentors, with a light, almost dancing movement (hence shooting stars . . .). There is a slightly ponderous recording from Belo Horizonte here. Best of all, however, would be for you to learn to sing the hymn yourself. If plainchant is new to you a good place to start is the excellent Musica Sacra site.
Conditor download
There is a recording of our latest Virtual Chapter on the podcast page. We now know that the echo chamber effect is caused when someone uses an inbuilt computer microphone rather than a headset, so technically this last recording is a great improvement on 28 November's. The next Chapter will be in the New Year.
This week's prayer podcast is on the podcast page. Gaudete!
Surprise, surprise!
12/December/2009
After the novice has made his vows Benedict refers to him for the first time as novicius frater, the new brother. Until then he has been completely anonymous: is qui (he) or noviter veniens (someone newly coming to the monastery). I always find this sudden tenderness on the part of Benedict strangely moving. The patriarch of western monasticism dissolves into something much more human. People often surprise us, especially when they prove to be nicer or kinder than we had expected or reveal qualities which, for good or ill, we are reluctant to allow them.
One of the questions we face during Advent is what kind of God shall we be welcoming at Christmas? The Jesus born at Bethlehem wasn't the kind of Messiah many in Israel had been hoping for, and my guess is that he won't be the kind many of us are hoping for today. The daily Mass readings for Advent express our longing for redemption but also make us aware that the Saviour we are awaiting is going to be very different from anything the world has ever known, and we prefer the familiar. Perhaps the cribs being prepared in many of our churches can teach us something we need to learn again and again. If we have a tendency to think of God as always enthroned on the cherubim, to think of him in nappies forces us to admit the enormity of his humility and graciousness. Our (limited) ideas have to go if the (infinite) reality of God is to make any impression. It won't be a comfortable experience, but falling into the hands of the living God never has been, has it?
Reminder: Virtual Chapter today at 11.00 a.m. GMT
One of the questions we face during Advent is what kind of God shall we be welcoming at Christmas? The Jesus born at Bethlehem wasn't the kind of Messiah many in Israel had been hoping for, and my guess is that he won't be the kind many of us are hoping for today. The daily Mass readings for Advent express our longing for redemption but also make us aware that the Saviour we are awaiting is going to be very different from anything the world has ever known, and we prefer the familiar. Perhaps the cribs being prepared in many of our churches can teach us something we need to learn again and again. If we have a tendency to think of God as always enthroned on the cherubim, to think of him in nappies forces us to admit the enormity of his humility and graciousness. Our (limited) ideas have to go if the (infinite) reality of God is to make any impression. It won't be a comfortable experience, but falling into the hands of the living God never has been, has it?
Reminder: Virtual Chapter today at 11.00 a.m. GMT
Chapter 58
11/December/2009
RB 58 is about the procedure for admitting newcomers to the monastery, the tests to be applied, the qualities to be looked for and so on. Whenever we read it in community we are reminded of the tension between the "charismatic" and "institutional" aspects of discerning a vocation. Vocation isn't something one has, it's something one is, something one lives. An ability to cope with the imperfections of others is an absolute prerequisite, but it is remarkable how difficult that often is in practice. It can be helpful to remember that all Benedict really asks of the novice is to eat, sleep and meditate: living in community and studying the Rule will do the rest (I exaggerate slightly). What is asked of the novice master is that he should have a talent for winning souls and watch over the novices to see whether they are genuinely seeking God and are zealous for the Work of God, obedience and things that humble them. That is rather more difficult, demanding skills very few novice masters would claim to have. The experience of the last sixteen hundred years would tend to suggest, however, that Benedict's recommendations work, that Chapter 58 is a valuable tool for the discernment of vocation.
Benedict assumes, of course, that there will be a steady stream of people knocking at the door of the monastery and asking for admission. In Europe that has not been the case for several years. Some communities have died out, others have dwindled in numbers. The "explanations" offered by those who have never lived monastic life often seem shallow. The plain fact is that those of us who do live a monastic life are not very good at communicating what is so wonderful about it. The reasons for that are many and various, but one must ask whether we sometimes lack conviction and are therefore not convincing. For myself, I can only say that I find monastic life my natural element, a pearl of great price, something I want to share with others; but I am happy to leave the outcome to God.
Perhaps we should have devoted tomorrow's Virtual Chapter to the subject of vocation but we've received quite a lot of questions about prayer and how the internet helps or does not help spread interest in and information about religion, religious life and kindred topics; so, if you are free to join us at 11.00 a.m. tomorrow, let us know what you think. Hopefully, Digitalnun will not be locked out of the system this time so the Chapter will go ahead at the intended hour!
Benedict assumes, of course, that there will be a steady stream of people knocking at the door of the monastery and asking for admission. In Europe that has not been the case for several years. Some communities have died out, others have dwindled in numbers. The "explanations" offered by those who have never lived monastic life often seem shallow. The plain fact is that those of us who do live a monastic life are not very good at communicating what is so wonderful about it. The reasons for that are many and various, but one must ask whether we sometimes lack conviction and are therefore not convincing. For myself, I can only say that I find monastic life my natural element, a pearl of great price, something I want to share with others; but I am happy to leave the outcome to God.
Perhaps we should have devoted tomorrow's Virtual Chapter to the subject of vocation but we've received quite a lot of questions about prayer and how the internet helps or does not help spread interest in and information about religion, religious life and kindred topics; so, if you are free to join us at 11.00 a.m. tomorrow, let us know what you think. Hopefully, Digitalnun will not be locked out of the system this time so the Chapter will go ahead at the intended hour!
A Bright Spot in the Gloom
10/December/2009
Shhh! Approach Colophon with caution today. Digitalnun is sunk in gloom at the cynicism and cowardice, as she sees it, of the Chancellor's pre-Budget report which does not seem to have grasped the gravity of the country's financial state and decidedly tetchy about the swingeing increase in charity bank account charges from RBS. It is rumoured that Duncan the dog has been working so hard at his eyes-like-melting-chocolate-drops-look-of-sympathy technique that he is prostrate with exhaustion. However, there is a bright spot in the gloom. Digitalnun is a great admirer of Mouse and his blog and is delighted to be able to point you in the direction of his new Twurch of England web site. Why doesn't the Catholic Church in England have something as imaginative? There's no tax on brains — yet.
Conviviality
09/December/2009
Christians have a reputation among non-Christians for being uncongenial companions, loudly disapproving everyone else's harmless little indulgences while hypocritically covering up some heinous sins of their own. (The vocabulary is as predictable as the attitudes: Christians are always "hypocritical", their sins "heinous", whatever Church they belong to; Catholic is now commonly preceded by "child-abusing"; and when was "cloistered" popularly used in anything but a pejorative sense?). Colophon wonders where and when this dourness crept in. Christians OUGHT to be the most convivial of people. Our most important liturgical act is, after all, derived from a sacred festive meal. Our hope for the future is (scripturally) expressed in terms of banqueting, of "food rich and juicy and fine strained wines".
Today's brief chapter of the Rule reminds us that the monastery ought to be a place of conviviality, of shared life, where guests are welcomed to our table as they are to our liturgy and other aspects of monastic life. We have three separate groups meeting here from 2.30 p.m. onwards and the community will be working flat out to be welcoming, to give each visitor time as well as the endless tea/coffee/biscuits which seem to fuel church gatherings. Inevitably, the question will arise: is what we are doing a bit irrelevant? Budget cuts, climate change, family concerns are all much closer to people's hearts than anything we may be discussing in our meetings. So why do we bother?
I think the clue lies in the word conviviality: feasting, shared life, is never very attractive to the outsider, the onlooker. One has to be involved, to take part. The challenge for us as a community is the same as for the Church as a whole. We need to draw people into the life we share in Christ, and we can only do that if we are living that life as deeply and generously as possible through prayer and sacrifice as well as service. Advent is a good time to ask ourselves whether we are so busy giving out that in reality we have nothing of value to share. The answer may shock us into reassessing how we live. It won't make the budget cuts any less painful; it wont solve the problems of global warming; but it might, just might, make us nicer to know: real Christians, in fact.
Today's brief chapter of the Rule reminds us that the monastery ought to be a place of conviviality, of shared life, where guests are welcomed to our table as they are to our liturgy and other aspects of monastic life. We have three separate groups meeting here from 2.30 p.m. onwards and the community will be working flat out to be welcoming, to give each visitor time as well as the endless tea/coffee/biscuits which seem to fuel church gatherings. Inevitably, the question will arise: is what we are doing a bit irrelevant? Budget cuts, climate change, family concerns are all much closer to people's hearts than anything we may be discussing in our meetings. So why do we bother?
I think the clue lies in the word conviviality: feasting, shared life, is never very attractive to the outsider, the onlooker. One has to be involved, to take part. The challenge for us as a community is the same as for the Church as a whole. We need to draw people into the life we share in Christ, and we can only do that if we are living that life as deeply and generously as possible through prayer and sacrifice as well as service. Advent is a good time to ask ourselves whether we are so busy giving out that in reality we have nothing of value to share. The answer may shock us into reassessing how we live. It won't make the budget cuts any less painful; it wont solve the problems of global warming; but it might, just might, make us nicer to know: real Christians, in fact.
Immaculate Conception of the B.V.M.
08/December/2009
As promised on Saturday, we are today putting online a little ebook Digitalnun made many years ago (see Digital books page). It was inspired by the Chapter House paintings of D. Werburg Welch, a nun of Stanbrook Abbey, Worcester, who was widely regarded as one of the foremost religious artists of her day. We are very grateful to the Abbess and Community of Stanbrook for allowing us to make the ebook available and would ask everyone to be scrupulous in respecting Stanbrook's copyright and other restrictions.
Magnificat was begun on the feast of the Immaculate Conception 1999. The Immaculate Conception of the B.V.M. must be one of the most misunderstood feasts in the calendar. Even Catholics tend to stray into unconscious heresy when asked to explain what it means. What the Catholic Church actually teaches is that "the Blessed Virgin Mary in the first instance of her conception was preserved exempt from all stain of original sin by a singular privilege and grace granted by God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the human race." (Apostolic Constitution Ineffabilis Deus, 8 December 1854) In other words, Mary, although conceived and born like the rest of us, was not cleansed from original sin by baptism as we are but was preserved from such sin because of the merits of her Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Maximus of Turin uses a lovely phrase, he talks of "original grace" at work in her in contrast to original sin at work in us (see Nom. viii de Natali Domini). Mary was not exempt from the temporal penalties of sin such as pain and death, nor was her sinlessness something she herself achieved. It was entirely the gift and grace of God, a fruit of the redemption wrought by our Lord Jesus Christ. Only he can save us from sin. Thinking of the Climate Change Conference currently taking place in Copenhagen, I am tempted to add, only he can save us from ourselves.
Magnificat was begun on the feast of the Immaculate Conception 1999. The Immaculate Conception of the B.V.M. must be one of the most misunderstood feasts in the calendar. Even Catholics tend to stray into unconscious heresy when asked to explain what it means. What the Catholic Church actually teaches is that "the Blessed Virgin Mary in the first instance of her conception was preserved exempt from all stain of original sin by a singular privilege and grace granted by God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the human race." (Apostolic Constitution Ineffabilis Deus, 8 December 1854) In other words, Mary, although conceived and born like the rest of us, was not cleansed from original sin by baptism as we are but was preserved from such sin because of the merits of her Redeemer, Jesus Christ. Maximus of Turin uses a lovely phrase, he talks of "original grace" at work in her in contrast to original sin at work in us (see Nom. viii de Natali Domini). Mary was not exempt from the temporal penalties of sin such as pain and death, nor was her sinlessness something she herself achieved. It was entirely the gift and grace of God, a fruit of the redemption wrought by our Lord Jesus Christ. Only he can save us from sin. Thinking of the Climate Change Conference currently taking place in Copenhagen, I am tempted to add, only he can save us from ourselves.
Advent II
06/December/2009
The Second Sunday of Advent takes us out into the desert with John the Baptist and that lonely Voice urging us to prepare for the coming of the Word. There is something immensely attractive about John which this painting by El Greco conveys better than any words. We see the saint in a rocky landscape with a diffuse light about him. Everything except John's face seems to resolve into triangles, even the sheep near his feet. A distant city at the foot of the mountain is shrouded in gloom, but there is a beautiful light playing on the cross John holds in his hand, and on his face, the only truly rounded shape in the whole painting, there is a radiance and sweetness which is utterly compelling. El Greco has captured both the gentleness and the loneliness of Christ's Forerunner, the contradiction of the prophet in every age.
Today also happens to be the anniversary of the wreck of the Deutschland, which inspired Hopkins' greatest poem. I suspect John's prayer was very like that of the dying Franciscan, '"O Christ, Christ come quickly" since he was, as Daniélou perceptively remarked, "a one-joy man". For those of us whose hearts are not quite so focused, there are these lines, especially the last, to offer encouragement:
I kiss my hand
To the stars, lovely-asunder
Starlight, wafting him out of it; and
Glow, glory in thunder;
Kiss my hand to the dappled-with-damson west:
Since, tho' he is under the world's splendour & wonder,
His mystery must be instressed, stressed;
For I greet him the days I meet him, & bless when I understand.
Saturday Shopping
05/December/2009
Today is apparently the busiest day on the High Street, and how glad we are that we do not have to join the fray. We tend to shop online, making use of our Easyfundraising page which splits the retailer's referral fee with us. Painless giving is something we heartily endorse, so we are happy to record that during the past two years 37 supporters have helped raise £372.07 for our charitable works just by channelling their online shopping purchases via the Easyfundraising site. As there are over 2,000 retailers participating in the scheme, it is worth investigating for your church, school or charitable organization, but can we be shameless and suggest that if you do not wish to support us, you might nevertheless use our referral link to find another cause to help?
For those already exhausted with pre-Christmas shopping there is an alternative on Saturday, 12 December, when we shall be hosting another Virtual Chapter. Talkshoe has explained that they were rebooting their servers when we scheduled the last one (if only we had known!). Let's hope for better things next week. We have received a number of questions about prayer so will make that a major theme, but you are welcome to suggest other topics. It is helpful but not essential to submit questions/suggestions in advance.
Finally, Digitalnun recently came across an ebook she made ten years ago. It's entirely possible it may appear on our Digital Books page on 8 December. Can anyone guess what it is?
For those already exhausted with pre-Christmas shopping there is an alternative on Saturday, 12 December, when we shall be hosting another Virtual Chapter. Talkshoe has explained that they were rebooting their servers when we scheduled the last one (if only we had known!). Let's hope for better things next week. We have received a number of questions about prayer so will make that a major theme, but you are welcome to suggest other topics. It is helpful but not essential to submit questions/suggestions in advance.
Finally, Digitalnun recently came across an ebook she made ten years ago. It's entirely possible it may appear on our Digital Books page on 8 December. Can anyone guess what it is?
Craftmanship
04/December/2009
Yesterday Benedict spoke to us about the oratory. Today and tomorrow he speaks to us about guests. The two subjects are closely linked, especially for Benedictines, because the God whom we seek in prayer is to be encountered, reverenced and served in those who come to our door (which in our day includes the digital door). It can be difficult to get the balance right, and many a monastic community has lamented the demands of hospitality and sought to limit or distance its guests. The truth is, of course, that once one sees hospitality as an expression of love of God and love of neighbour, talk of "balance" begins to seem inappropriate. Purity of heart, that ability to recognize what God is asking and respond to the sacrament of the present moment with alacrity and generosity, becomes much more central. Here at Hendred we do our best to be welcoming but we are aware of our failures. "The life so short, the craft so long to learn" can apply to monastic living, too.
RB 52: On the Monastery Oratory
03/December/2009
Having just completed our online grocery order for Christmas, it is a relief to turn to today's chapter of the Rule. There's nothing wrong with commercialism as such, one doesn't mind being exhorted to buy this or that for a perfect Christmas, but then, we know Christmas is going to be perfect "whatever". Thinking about the place of the oratory in our lives is, however, a valuable corrective to Christmas stress; and it reminded us to donate to CAFOD and some other favourite charities.
We all need a sacred space but comparatively few have the luxury of an area devoted only to prayer and worship. We have to cultivate instead an inner space, a holy ground of mind and heart, with time we reserve for God alone. The Lord Jesus understood that. When he told his disciples to go into their inner room and pray, he must have meant withdrawing into the inner chambers of the heart since there were few private rooms in first-century Palestine.
I think we can apply what Benedict says about the monastery oratory to this inner space, this sacred time. We need to value the time we devote to prayer, ring-fence it round with a little selfishness even to ensure that it becomes as regular a part of our life as breathing. Reverence and silence on our part are fundamental attitudes but we tend to learn them gradually and have constantly to relearn what we thought we already knew. During Advent we have the example of John the Baptist waiting in the wilderness for the appearing of the Saviour. Perhaps his family thought of him as being lost to them during that time, possibly wasting his life. These days before Christmas can be "wilderness days" for all of us, but they do not have to be lost days. Prayer is never a waste of time.
Just to show that we are not above a little commercialism in a good cause ourselves, here's a reminder about John and Penny's Christmas Book Sale this afternoon. Enjoy!
We all need a sacred space but comparatively few have the luxury of an area devoted only to prayer and worship. We have to cultivate instead an inner space, a holy ground of mind and heart, with time we reserve for God alone. The Lord Jesus understood that. When he told his disciples to go into their inner room and pray, he must have meant withdrawing into the inner chambers of the heart since there were few private rooms in first-century Palestine.
I think we can apply what Benedict says about the monastery oratory to this inner space, this sacred time. We need to value the time we devote to prayer, ring-fence it round with a little selfishness even to ensure that it becomes as regular a part of our life as breathing. Reverence and silence on our part are fundamental attitudes but we tend to learn them gradually and have constantly to relearn what we thought we already knew. During Advent we have the example of John the Baptist waiting in the wilderness for the appearing of the Saviour. Perhaps his family thought of him as being lost to them during that time, possibly wasting his life. These days before Christmas can be "wilderness days" for all of us, but they do not have to be lost days. Prayer is never a waste of time.
Just to show that we are not above a little commercialism in a good cause ourselves, here's a reminder about John and Penny's Christmas Book Sale this afternoon. Enjoy!
Preparing the Liturgy
02/December/2009
There is a copy of the Portsmouth diocesan Ordo or Liturgical Calendar on our Liturgy page together with some notes on Advent and recordings of the O antiphons which may be useful to those who have to prepare liturgies/school assemblies during the next few weeks. This afternoon at 2.30 p.m. and again at 7.30 p.m. we shall be hosting a "guided discussion" of the Sunday Mass readings, something we'll do every week until Christmas. Usually we get a nicely ecumenical group taking part and everyone seems to benefit, from learned scripture scholars to simple pew fodder like Digitalnun.
Redecorating the oratory has had to be postponed because of work pressures, but we are delighted to record the purchase of a Glastonbury chair for use by the presiding priest at Mass. Handynun put it together on Saturday with much muttering about its being properly made, no glue anywhere, nice patina under the grubbiness, and so on and so forth. Even after a preliminary cleaning and waxing it looked very good; and the monks who said Mass for us on Monday and Tuesday both declared it "very pleasing" so we are distinctly gruntled. Our friend Neville has made a new oak base for the processional cross which is a great improvement on the metal one, so we have begun Advent feeling that the oratory looks much more dignified than before. Next we must think about replacing our red lectern fall (which is looking a little sad) but this is a good time of year to be looking for red fabric. Reindeer and Fr Christmas patterns not required.
Redecorating the oratory has had to be postponed because of work pressures, but we are delighted to record the purchase of a Glastonbury chair for use by the presiding priest at Mass. Handynun put it together on Saturday with much muttering about its being properly made, no glue anywhere, nice patina under the grubbiness, and so on and so forth. Even after a preliminary cleaning and waxing it looked very good; and the monks who said Mass for us on Monday and Tuesday both declared it "very pleasing" so we are distinctly gruntled. Our friend Neville has made a new oak base for the processional cross which is a great improvement on the metal one, so we have begun Advent feeling that the oratory looks much more dignified than before. Next we must think about replacing our red lectern fall (which is looking a little sad) but this is a good time of year to be looking for red fabric. Reindeer and Fr Christmas patterns not required.
Advent 2009
29/November/2009
We begin Advent with three days of as near-perfect silence as we can manage, to allow time for reflection on the mystery of the Word who became man for our sakes. Choir continues, of course, and the angels are allowed to sing (think Hilton, angel-song . . .) but otherwise we try to keep speaking and writing to a minimum. So, no blogging and no tweeting until Wednesday unless there is some overwhelming reason for doing so.
Our podcast for the first Sunday of Advent will be found on the podcast page.
Finally, our apologies to all who had difficulty getting into the Virtual Chapter on 28 November: Digitalnun was locked out of the system for half an hour and when she was finally allowed in, there were some "audio issues". Beelzebub having his own back perhaps? We are grateful for all the positive feedback and will arrange another Chapter in a fortnight's time, on Saturday 12 December, when we'll explore the subject of prayer. There is a partial recording of the 28 November discussion on the podcast page.
The Virtual World
28/November/2009
This afternoon at 2.00 p.m. we shall again be hosting a Virtual Chapter or web conference during which participants will be able to discuss monastic/oblate life (some suggestions for discussion were listed in yesterday's post). Some people are very enthusiastic about this kind of online engagement, others are more sceptical, a few are uncomfortable about the idea of something so open and "uncontrollable". The community here takes the view that if we as Benedictines don't make use of the opportunities offered, we can be quite sure Beelzebub will, and a few little hiccups along the way are immaterial.
There are, however, important questions about the relationship between the real and virtual worlds we all need to consider. Readers of Colophon know we have a strict policy regarding the blog. It only gets updated when we have time. So, too, with other aspects of the web site. Indeed, the only part of the site unfailingly attended to is the prayerline, which is given the same priority as requests for prayer received in any other way. For us, these self-imposed restraints are a way of ensuring that the virtual never becomes a substitute for or an escape from the real. Not to have an online presence, however, seems tantamount to not existing. The Catholic Church is slowly waking up to that fact and has been consulting the likes of Google and Facebook (but not Twitter!) about how to improve its e-cred.
Digitalnun would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the recent (12-15 November) Vatican conference on the internet. Some of the published statistics are revealing, showing a rather half-hearted embrace of what is possible. Lots of cardinals and bishops are happy to blog and Youtube apparently, but an amazing 70% of church-based web sites have no interactive features. Monsignor Jean-Michel Di Falco, bishop of Gap, made an eloquent plea for a cadre of Web 2.0 savvy priests to re-evangelize the (real) world, using a flurry of high-flown metaphors which read well in French but are slightly bathetic in English. "Pope, cardinals, bishops, priests, lay people - with the Internet we enter a marketplace, a free and spontaneous space where everything is said about everything, where everyone can debate everything," he concluded. Is it my imagination, Monseigneur, or did you forget about nuns?
There are, however, important questions about the relationship between the real and virtual worlds we all need to consider. Readers of Colophon know we have a strict policy regarding the blog. It only gets updated when we have time. So, too, with other aspects of the web site. Indeed, the only part of the site unfailingly attended to is the prayerline, which is given the same priority as requests for prayer received in any other way. For us, these self-imposed restraints are a way of ensuring that the virtual never becomes a substitute for or an escape from the real. Not to have an online presence, however, seems tantamount to not existing. The Catholic Church is slowly waking up to that fact and has been consulting the likes of Google and Facebook (but not Twitter!) about how to improve its e-cred.
Digitalnun would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the recent (12-15 November) Vatican conference on the internet. Some of the published statistics are revealing, showing a rather half-hearted embrace of what is possible. Lots of cardinals and bishops are happy to blog and Youtube apparently, but an amazing 70% of church-based web sites have no interactive features. Monsignor Jean-Michel Di Falco, bishop of Gap, made an eloquent plea for a cadre of Web 2.0 savvy priests to re-evangelize the (real) world, using a flurry of high-flown metaphors which read well in French but are slightly bathetic in English. "Pope, cardinals, bishops, priests, lay people - with the Internet we enter a marketplace, a free and spontaneous space where everything is said about everything, where everyone can debate everything," he concluded. Is it my imagination, Monseigneur, or did you forget about nuns?
Shame
27/November/2009
The publication of the Commission of Investigation's Report into the Catholic Diocese of Dublin has shocked those who have read it and shamed all who must acknowledge a personal or institutional failure to deal with the abuse it records. I have never understood why some Churchmen (not only Catholic Churchmen) seem to make light of such a serious matter, nor have I ever been comfortable with the way in which, for example, priests "under a cloud" have sometimes been sent to houses of nuns to withdraw them from the public gaze. Quite apart from the contempt that shows, surely everyone realizes that paedophiles are highly manipulative and cannot be "policed" by cloistered religious or anyone else? Moving the problem on is not to deal with it.
The worrying thing about the publication of this report is that we may not learn the lessons. In our revulsion at what has happened we may simply condemn the whole Church as being corrupt from top to bottom, holding those presently serving responsible for what occurred in the past. That is dangerous, typical of the lack of historical perspective now common in our public debate. As members of the Church we can acknowledge the sinfulness of what has been done, express our sorrow and shame, our determination not to allow similar things to happen in the future (present Safeguarding procedures in this diocese, for example, are excellent though no procedure will ever be sufficient protection against someone determined to do wrong). We can also seek to make reparation in some way, but we cannot undo what has happened, cannot, I think, apologize in any meaningful sense for what we ourselves had no part in. Sin remains sin although redeemed. Many, however, will expect an apology; will demand that we all be held responsible; will assume that what happened in Dublin happened elsewhere. No doubt there will be a rush of legal cases seeking financial compensation. Given the tacky concern of some to preserve their financial assets at all costs, that may seem fitting, but am I alone in recalling that when similar cases occurred in the diocese of Boston it was the poor who suffered most from the closure of Church schools and hospitals (oh, and the sisters, whose convents were sold to pay the debts incurred by the diocese)? If one good deed can have untold consequences, so, sadly, can an evil one; and it is always the most vulnerable who suffer.
Web Conference
Preparations are under way for our second public Virtual Chapter at 2.00 p.m. GMT tomorrow. There is still time to submit a question/topic for discussion (or you can make your point live during the Chapter). Several of the questions sent in concern the living of a Benedictine spirituality in the world, so tomorrow we shall explore some of the following:
The worrying thing about the publication of this report is that we may not learn the lessons. In our revulsion at what has happened we may simply condemn the whole Church as being corrupt from top to bottom, holding those presently serving responsible for what occurred in the past. That is dangerous, typical of the lack of historical perspective now common in our public debate. As members of the Church we can acknowledge the sinfulness of what has been done, express our sorrow and shame, our determination not to allow similar things to happen in the future (present Safeguarding procedures in this diocese, for example, are excellent though no procedure will ever be sufficient protection against someone determined to do wrong). We can also seek to make reparation in some way, but we cannot undo what has happened, cannot, I think, apologize in any meaningful sense for what we ourselves had no part in. Sin remains sin although redeemed. Many, however, will expect an apology; will demand that we all be held responsible; will assume that what happened in Dublin happened elsewhere. No doubt there will be a rush of legal cases seeking financial compensation. Given the tacky concern of some to preserve their financial assets at all costs, that may seem fitting, but am I alone in recalling that when similar cases occurred in the diocese of Boston it was the poor who suffered most from the closure of Church schools and hospitals (oh, and the sisters, whose convents were sold to pay the debts incurred by the diocese)? If one good deed can have untold consequences, so, sadly, can an evil one; and it is always the most vulnerable who suffer.
Web Conference
Preparations are under way for our second public Virtual Chapter at 2.00 p.m. GMT tomorrow. There is still time to submit a question/topic for discussion (or you can make your point live during the Chapter). Several of the questions sent in concern the living of a Benedictine spirituality in the world, so tomorrow we shall explore some of the following:
- how can a lay person "live" the Rule of St Benedict?
- how can a lay person live a life of prayer?
- does being an oblate help?
- why are Benedictine communities all so different?
- why did you become a nun?
Thanksgiving 2009
26/November/2009
The Bow in the Clouds: East Hendred 8.30 a.m. 26 November 2009
Thanksgiving Day is a good idea. Here is Digitalnun's personal grateful list for 26 November 2009: for family and friends, especially the awkward ones, and life in community; Duncan's comical nose, snuggled into his blanket; the soft gleam of the sanctuary lamp and the quiet of the oratory; books spilling into every corner; night-scented stock still blooming against the wall; the shock of cold water; grey light on the horizon; the busy patter of squirrels in the roofspace; the De Profundis chanted trustingly at Vigils; fresh bread baking in the kitchen; a manageable inbox; the promise of another day. For all, Deo Gratias.
Update: Coming back from walking the dog at 8.30 a.m. we saw this double rainbow in the sky over Hendred House (you can just make out the second bow at the east end of the house). The bow in the clouds is a sign of God's first covenant, a covenant made with the whole of creation. Something more for which to give thanks.
Confused Standards?
25/November/2009
Colophon is confused. The Government requires that public bodies such as Charities should adhere to the strictest standards of accounting and disclosure but seems incapable of understanding that similar standards are expected nearer home. The incompetent handling of the parliamentary expenses revelations is a case in point; the news that last October the Bank of England effectively covered up enormous loans to two of Britain's failing banks is another. One wonders whether the concept of public accountability and integrity is becoming as alien as it seems. Happily, there are many good and decent people, quietly devoting time and talent to the service of others, which gives one hope; but no amount of legislation will compensate for lack of example. The latest Government proposal, to tackle violence against women and girls, is good in principle (though one must ask how the school curriculum is going to be able to accommodate all the "extras" being pushed into it) but it may be undermined by instances of violent behaviour in official places gleefully revealed by investigative journalists.
What is the role of the Church in this? No doubt there will be supportive statements from our leaders, condemning this and applauding that. Diocesan departments will beaver away producing strategies to ensure that all involved in active ministry conform to "best practice", but there is a danger that most of this will wash over our heads. Values are not instilled by legislation. Law has a directive as well as compulsive force, true, but it is up to us as Christians to show by our whole manner of living what we hold dear, what we believe to be the right way of relating to God, people and the world around us. That applies to those of us who live in monasteries as much as to those who live in the world. To be honest and truthful will always be costly; to be prepared to stand up to bullies will always mean running the risk of a bloody nose or worse; but ultimately, trying to live by the standards of the Lord Jesus means we can sleep easy o' nights, because we shall be at peace with him and with ourselves. No confusion there.
What is the role of the Church in this? No doubt there will be supportive statements from our leaders, condemning this and applauding that. Diocesan departments will beaver away producing strategies to ensure that all involved in active ministry conform to "best practice", but there is a danger that most of this will wash over our heads. Values are not instilled by legislation. Law has a directive as well as compulsive force, true, but it is up to us as Christians to show by our whole manner of living what we hold dear, what we believe to be the right way of relating to God, people and the world around us. That applies to those of us who live in monasteries as much as to those who live in the world. To be honest and truthful will always be costly; to be prepared to stand up to bullies will always mean running the risk of a bloody nose or worse; but ultimately, trying to live by the standards of the Lord Jesus means we can sleep easy o' nights, because we shall be at peace with him and with ourselves. No confusion there.
Tantrums in Choir
24/November/2009
Not quite what the headline promises, but a way of drawing attention to Benedict's little chapter on faults committed in the oratory. He is writing not only about carelessness in choir (which can indeed lead to tantrums!) but about pride in general and the difficulty many of us have in admitting we have made a mistake. It is easier to flounce out of the room, maintain a hard silence or utter what is intended as a withering remark than simply, humbly and gently admit that we might just conceivably, on this one single occasion, of course, have been (perhaps) a teensy-weensy-bit wrong.
St Clement of Rome
23/November/2009
The memoria of St Clement which we celebrate today takes us back to the earliest days of the Church. Clement's Letter to the Corinthians is remarkable for its simplicity and directness, and for the fact that it is written in the name of Rome, urging the quarrelsome and rebellious Corinthians to mend their ways (obviously little had changed since the days of St Paul). The appeal for unity and peace is eloquent but there is also a hint that failure to respond adequately will not go unnoticed. Do we see here the germ of papal authority in action? Lightfoot thought so. There is also an interesting formula used of the Trinity, which looks back to Old Testament usage: "As the Lord lives, and as the Lord Jesus Christ lives and the Holy Spirit lives". All these would be mere curiosities, fascinating to the scholar but of little interest to the average reader, were it not that the Letter to the Corinthians takes us back to the heroic age of the Church, to the martyrs of Nero and Domitian, some of whom are named in the text. It is rare that we come so close to them: we feel the menace under the surface of Roman life.
One has a similar feeling standing in the basilica of San Clemente. Above ground all is beauty: the mosaics are luminous, there is light and air and the incessant chatter of tour guides and their charges. Down below, in the gloom of the Mithraic shrine we touch a darker world altogether. From time to time we need to be reminded of that world because something of its darkness infects us all at times. I had not noticed until today that we read RB 44 on St Clement's feast. The ritualisation of making amends Benedict gives us in that chapter is powerful. So often we think a cursory "apology" will make up for a wound we have dealt another. Unfortunately, just because we have decided it is time to forgive doesn't necessarily mean the other thinks so, too. Benedict, like Clement, knew that it takes time to heal such injuries, but healed they must be because a wound left to fester will do untold damage to the Body of Christ. Peace may begin with a smile, but it is only a beginning.
One has a similar feeling standing in the basilica of San Clemente. Above ground all is beauty: the mosaics are luminous, there is light and air and the incessant chatter of tour guides and their charges. Down below, in the gloom of the Mithraic shrine we touch a darker world altogether. From time to time we need to be reminded of that world because something of its darkness infects us all at times. I had not noticed until today that we read RB 44 on St Clement's feast. The ritualisation of making amends Benedict gives us in that chapter is powerful. So often we think a cursory "apology" will make up for a wound we have dealt another. Unfortunately, just because we have decided it is time to forgive doesn't necessarily mean the other thinks so, too. Benedict, like Clement, knew that it takes time to heal such injuries, but healed they must be because a wound left to fester will do untold damage to the Body of Christ. Peace may begin with a smile, but it is only a beginning.
Solemnity of Christ the King
22/November/2009
On this last Sunday of the Church's year, we celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. One suspects few now read Quas primas, Pius XI's 1925 encyclical establishing the feast and his reasons for doing so. The concept of the kingdom or reign of God and of the kingship of Christ was by no means novel, it is after all entirely scriptural in origin; but what was perhaps new was Pius XI's impassioned insistence that the evils under which the world was labouring were attributable to the fact that people had abandoned Jesus Christ and his holy law and that there could be no lasting peace unless individuals and nation states returned to what he called "the Empire of our Lord". For many today the language of kingship and empire is unacceptable, indeed outmoded. Does that mean that the theology underlying this feast is also outmoded? If we look at the preface for the day, we find a very clear exposition of the major themes:
Father, all-powerful and ever-living God,
we do well always and everywhere to give you thanks.
You anointed Jesus Christ, your only Son,
with the oil of gladness,
as the eternal priest and universal king.
As priest he offered his life on the altar of the cross
and redeemed the human race by this one perfect sacrifice of peace.
As king he claims dominion over all creation,
that he may present to you, his almighty Father,
an eternal and universal kingdom:
a kingdom of truth and life,
a kingdom of holiness and grace,
a kingdom of justice, love, and peace.
And so, with all the choirs of angels in heaven
we proclaim your glory and join in their unending hymn of praise . . .
The kingship that we celebrate in this feast is a sacrificial kingship based on truth, holiness and grace, which makes possible for us a life of justice, love and peace. Can such a kingship ever be "outmoded"?
Reminder: all podcasts are now located on the podcast page.
Dies Memorabilis 2009
21/November/2009
Dies Memorabilis, when we recall the transfer of all the rights and privileges of the pre-Reformation English Benedictine Congregation to its post-Reformation successor, the Church in general celebrates the Presentation of Our Lady and, excuse for a slightly better dinner than usual, Digitalnun keeps her Clothing anniversary. Here in Hendred we have no Mass, nor any realistic prospect of going to one elsewhere, although the Abbot of Downside will be celebrating Mass for the Newman Society in Oxford this evening and there are more R.C. priests in Oxford than anywhere else in Europe except Malta and the Vatican, or so we're told. Still, there's no use lamenting. There are many parts of the world where Mass is rarely possible, and we are very grateful to our monk friends who do their best to ensure that we can celebrate the Holy Mysteries as often as possible in our oratory.
Our relaunched veilshop has already sold a chasuble, which is very pleasing, and we have received a number of questions/suggestions for the next Virtual Chapter on 28 November. Some we shall probably hold over as it makes sense to group ideas according to general themes, but we'll see. In the meantime, SOMEONE is preparing a podcast for the Solemnity of Christ the King. As for me, at some point I think I shall allow myself half an hour with Catullus. Life in a monastery is not all duty. As Newman once remarked, it is the most poetic of pursuits, though I'm not sure what he would have made of my choice of recreational reading.
Our relaunched veilshop has already sold a chasuble, which is very pleasing, and we have received a number of questions/suggestions for the next Virtual Chapter on 28 November. Some we shall probably hold over as it makes sense to group ideas according to general themes, but we'll see. In the meantime, SOMEONE is preparing a podcast for the Solemnity of Christ the King. As for me, at some point I think I shall allow myself half an hour with Catullus. Life in a monastery is not all duty. As Newman once remarked, it is the most poetic of pursuits, though I'm not sure what he would have made of my choice of recreational reading.
Moonlight and Mammon
20/November/2009
Our friends at Moonlight Publishing have come up with a wonderful idea to help our audio book service for the blind and visually impaired. On Thursday, 3 December, from 3.00 p.m. until 7.30 p.m. they will be hosting a Christmas Children's Book Sale and Tea Party at the King's Manor, East Hendred, and sharing the proceeds with St Cecilia's Guild. If you don't already know their imaginative range of children's books for ages 1 to 12, Colophon advises you to go and have a look at their web site, www.moonlightpublishing.co.uk. You are sure to find something tempting for that special Little Person in your life, even if you can't make the journey to East Hendred.
More prosaically in the service of Mammon (no mulled wine or mince pies on offer, unlike at Moonlight Publishing), Veilshop has just been relaunched. We have only put a few items up for sale at the moment and are limiting shipping to the U.K. until we get round to that web site makeover which seems to be receding ever further into the future. If you encounter any problems with the shopping cart, please let us know. Even the most exhaustive testing sometimes seems to miss some snag or other.
Lest you think our thoughts are wholly this-worldly, on Wednesdays during Advent we shall be holding Advent Liturgy preparation sessions at 2.30 p.m. and again at 7.30 p.m. in the monastery library. We'll be looking at the Sunday Mass readings and prayers as a way of preparing for Christmas. As always, these sessions are open to anyone who wishes to come along and refreshments will be served. Please pass the word on to anyone you think would like to know about them. Advent is such an important season and passes so quickly that it's good to take a little time, if we can, to explore what the liturgy offers us.
Finally, advance notice that Vespers on Sunday 22 November will be said privately (i.e. not open to the public) as the prioress is off to Choral Evensong at St Peter's College, Oxford, where she has been invited to preach. References to dogs walking on hind legs will not be appreciated!
More prosaically in the service of Mammon (no mulled wine or mince pies on offer, unlike at Moonlight Publishing), Veilshop has just been relaunched. We have only put a few items up for sale at the moment and are limiting shipping to the U.K. until we get round to that web site makeover which seems to be receding ever further into the future. If you encounter any problems with the shopping cart, please let us know. Even the most exhaustive testing sometimes seems to miss some snag or other.
Lest you think our thoughts are wholly this-worldly, on Wednesdays during Advent we shall be holding Advent Liturgy preparation sessions at 2.30 p.m. and again at 7.30 p.m. in the monastery library. We'll be looking at the Sunday Mass readings and prayers as a way of preparing for Christmas. As always, these sessions are open to anyone who wishes to come along and refreshments will be served. Please pass the word on to anyone you think would like to know about them. Advent is such an important season and passes so quickly that it's good to take a little time, if we can, to explore what the liturgy offers us.
Finally, advance notice that Vespers on Sunday 22 November will be said privately (i.e. not open to the public) as the prioress is off to Choral Evensong at St Peter's College, Oxford, where she has been invited to preach. References to dogs walking on hind legs will not be appreciated!
Vocation Questions
19/November/2009
A sociologist of religion would find much to ponder in the questions that come to us via our "Ask Sister" vocation feature. Some are extremely thoughtful and show that the questioner is serious in her desire to know and understand. Trying to answer such questions isn't easy: we try to make sure we cover all the points as honestly and completely as we can. Other questions are more light-hearted or even deliberately provoking (this seems to be especially true of those sent in by men!): we answer those in kind. There are complicated canonical questions we refer on to those who can give an authoritative answer; quite basic questions about Christianity; intrusive questions about community members; and so on and so forth. Some people are looking for God; others are looking for a security that, frankly, monastic life cannot offer; others are looking for themselves, but don't yet know that. To all we try to respond, however inadequately.
Many ask why vocations seem to be few in England yet flourishing elsewhere, something we find difficult to answer since both call and response are gifts of God. (We who are monks and nuns might nevertheless ask ourselves some hard questions about our communities and whether we inspire others or simply live off a reputation from the past that is no longer valid). It can be quite informative to spend a little time looking at some of the web sites younger people turn to when they are thinking about vocation. Inevitably, there is interest in the more "accidental" features of monastic life: the form of the habit, photos/videos of profession ceremonies, descriptions of monastic practices (the odder the better) and views of buildings (the older the better, it seems: wonder if our gothick cellars qualify?). None of this is in the least bit unexpected or troubling. What is deeply troubling is the burden of debt so many young people seem to be under and which holds them back. Some communities are rich enough to be able to help but I suspect that most in this country aren't. Perhaps these are question for the wider Church in England: how much do we value religious life; what can we do to help those whom God calls? Is religious life now on the endangered list, and would it matter if it disappeared?
It would be interesting to know what you think.
Many ask why vocations seem to be few in England yet flourishing elsewhere, something we find difficult to answer since both call and response are gifts of God. (We who are monks and nuns might nevertheless ask ourselves some hard questions about our communities and whether we inspire others or simply live off a reputation from the past that is no longer valid). It can be quite informative to spend a little time looking at some of the web sites younger people turn to when they are thinking about vocation. Inevitably, there is interest in the more "accidental" features of monastic life: the form of the habit, photos/videos of profession ceremonies, descriptions of monastic practices (the odder the better) and views of buildings (the older the better, it seems: wonder if our gothick cellars qualify?). None of this is in the least bit unexpected or troubling. What is deeply troubling is the burden of debt so many young people seem to be under and which holds them back. Some communities are rich enough to be able to help but I suspect that most in this country aren't. Perhaps these are question for the wider Church in England: how much do we value religious life; what can we do to help those whom God calls? Is religious life now on the endangered list, and would it matter if it disappeared?
It would be interesting to know what you think.
In Praise of Caxton
18/November/2009
On this day in 1477 William Caxton issued the first book in English actually printed in England, or so we believe. It was Dictes or Sayengis of the Philosophres (Sayings of the Philosophers) translated from the French by Anthony Rivers, second Earl Rivers, a learned man and brother-in-law of Edward IV, beheaded in 1483 by the future Richard III. The colophon (detail illustrated above) is fascinating. It shows type trying to look like handwriting but with some ugly word spacing and contrasting weights of letter-forms. Having said that, the page is remarkably evenly inked, while the use of punctuation (a Cistercian innovation of some centuries earlier) makes the text easy to read. No wonder many in Westminster were deeply worried about this new technology. It was to have a great future. You wouldn't be reading this if it hadn't.
One of the developments of Web 2.0 we particularly welcome here at Hendred is the renewed interest in typography, specifically typography for onscreen use. Our current site is typographically merely "functional" but there are many examples of really beautiful work on the web which is quietly raising standards. Sadly, many people are happy to stick to Arial (probably the worst typeface ever designed in our unprejudiced view) or Times (an excellent typeface, but over-used) or "don't see what all the fuss is about". It is the latter which sends Digitalnun into despondency. If you want to know why, read Beatrice Warde's little gem on the importance of typography, The Crystal Goblet. It will open your eyes.
St Gertrude of Helfta
17/November/2009
Colophon probably said all it wants to say about St Gertrude in 2007 (under her universal feast day, 16 November); but St Edmund of Abingdon pushed her out of the calendar yesterday, so we are keeping her feast on the anniversary of her death, which seems appropriate given that popular piety associates her with a prayer for souls in purgatory rather than anything else. Personally, I find the idea of a Benedictine nun "suffering a conversion" rather enchanting, and while I take a very British attitude to the revelations and raptures, which, to be fair, embarrassed Gertrude herself so much that she begged God to allow no outward manifestation of the graces he bestowed, her love of learning and graceful Latin style warm the cockles of my heart. Her devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is well-known. Less well-known is her influence on St Teresa of Avila, Yepez and other great Carmelites or the fact that she is Patron Saint of the West Indies. She died at the age of forty-five or six, still marvelling that God had allowed so sinful a creature as herself to live on earth.
That last sentence shows how different some saints are from ourselves. We are very conscious of our rights, of our dignity. We react with outrage if those rights are infringed (it may help if a tabloid comes along to record our outrage, but not all are so "lucky"). Nothing wrong with that, of course, until we look at our Lord Jesus Christ and mark the dignity of the Man of Sorrows. Then we can begin to feel uncomfortable, feel that we are strutting about like the proverbial cock on a dunghill. It is difficult to combine modesty about ourselves with a proper sense of our own worth as children of God, created in his image and likeness. St Gertrude was shaped and formed by the Rule of St Benedict, and I think her sense of herself as simultaneously the worst of sinners yet redeemed by grace is attributable to her having absorbed the Rule's teaching on humility. Only the truly humble can keep the two in tension. Like Luther, she knew herself to be simul pecctor et iustus, or as Hopkins put it
I am all at once what Christ is, | since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, | patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond.
Coal and diamond are both forms of carbon. I wonder which you and I are, don't you?
That last sentence shows how different some saints are from ourselves. We are very conscious of our rights, of our dignity. We react with outrage if those rights are infringed (it may help if a tabloid comes along to record our outrage, but not all are so "lucky"). Nothing wrong with that, of course, until we look at our Lord Jesus Christ and mark the dignity of the Man of Sorrows. Then we can begin to feel uncomfortable, feel that we are strutting about like the proverbial cock on a dunghill. It is difficult to combine modesty about ourselves with a proper sense of our own worth as children of God, created in his image and likeness. St Gertrude was shaped and formed by the Rule of St Benedict, and I think her sense of herself as simultaneously the worst of sinners yet redeemed by grace is attributable to her having absorbed the Rule's teaching on humility. Only the truly humble can keep the two in tension. Like Luther, she knew herself to be simul pecctor et iustus, or as Hopkins put it
I am all at once what Christ is, | since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, | patch, matchwood, immortal diamond,
Is immortal diamond.
Coal and diamond are both forms of carbon. I wonder which you and I are, don't you?
Washday Blues
16/November/2009
Monday is washday in the monastery and it is raining. I suppose we ought to be downcast, but we aren't. It reminds me of the effect that laundry blue used to have on our grandmothers' washing. It seemed to make the whites glow more whitely and was especially noticeable on a grey day. Perhaps that is why one notices the cheerful faces of the community: the contrast with the weather is so marked.
Where does the cheerfulness come from? I'd like to think it stems from a sense of purpose, from a lively faith, a warm charity and a genuine hope. I suspect it may also have something to do with the prospect of a nice, quiet monastic Mass for St Edmund of Abingdon (co-patron of our diocese) and a decent dinner afterwards! We are not angels yet. Of course, we also have some unexpected blessings to smile about. Yesterday, coming out of Mass, a parishioner gave me an envelope. Inside was a very generous donation towards our work for the blind and visually impaired. That means a lot to us because keeping St Cecilia's going as a free service is high on our list of priorities but we have faced completely empty coffers before now. People tend to assume that all religious communities are well-off. If we were, I think we'd be a different kind of community, but I hope we come some way towards realising Benedict's ideal of the monk as one who "lives by the work of his hands as our fathers and the apostles did". That is not to downplay the importance of the help we receive from friends and benefactors, far from it, but it can be comforting to others to know that the community faces similar challenges to everyone else.
So, washday blues are not part of the agenda for today, or any day for that matter.
Where does the cheerfulness come from? I'd like to think it stems from a sense of purpose, from a lively faith, a warm charity and a genuine hope. I suspect it may also have something to do with the prospect of a nice, quiet monastic Mass for St Edmund of Abingdon (co-patron of our diocese) and a decent dinner afterwards! We are not angels yet. Of course, we also have some unexpected blessings to smile about. Yesterday, coming out of Mass, a parishioner gave me an envelope. Inside was a very generous donation towards our work for the blind and visually impaired. That means a lot to us because keeping St Cecilia's going as a free service is high on our list of priorities but we have faced completely empty coffers before now. People tend to assume that all religious communities are well-off. If we were, I think we'd be a different kind of community, but I hope we come some way towards realising Benedict's ideal of the monk as one who "lives by the work of his hands as our fathers and the apostles did". That is not to downplay the importance of the help we receive from friends and benefactors, far from it, but it can be comforting to others to know that the community faces similar challenges to everyone else.
So, washday blues are not part of the agenda for today, or any day for that matter.
Special Gifts
15/November/2009
Sunday is always special in a monastery, the gift of a day which has its own unique character. Although in one sense we are busier than ever, with a more elaborate liturgy and a commitment to more prayer and reading than on ferias, there is a silence and spaciousness about Sunday which is a valuable corrective to the rush and racket of the rest of the week. Visitors often drop in, and somehow there is always time to share a cup of tea or coffee with them, even if the cook is going quietly demented in the kitchen and the dog is indicating that he wants some "me time" out on the Downs.
Yesterday I spent a few moments looking at a special gift we received earlier this year. When we began planning our guest room, we asked our good friend Martin Wenham if we could commission him to do a painting. (if you take to heart what Benedict says about treating guests as though Christ, you will understand that only the best is good enough. Add to that the prioress's inconvenient and potentially expensive preference for original works of art over Catholic kitsch, and you'll see we couldn't put just anything on the wall.) Typically, Martin produced a painting which he simply gave to the community. The reproduction above does not do it justice. It shimmers and shines as the light changes and is a beautiful reminder of the friendships God brings into our lives to enrich and sustain them.
Today we shall receive another special gift. "Someone else" is doing the cooking, and she-who-cooks-Sunday-lunch every week in the interval between Mass and Midday Office is sending up unseasonal "alleluias" as she contemplates all that she will do, or rather not do, with the time this generous act of a friend will give her.
Gifts don't have to be complicated to be special. They don't have to be huge or expensive, though they always cost the giver something. One of the gifts I remember best may strike you as a mere nothing, although the memory of it has stayed with me for years. I was working late in a University Library on a sweltering hot summer's day and the Librarian looked exhausted. As I returned a book and thanked her, she gave a brilliant smile. A smile like that can only come from the pure in heart, from those who see God and reverence Him in others. "Smile Sunday" anyone?
This week's prayer podcast will be found in its new position on the Podcast page. There is also another talk on the Talks page, by Dr Annette Goulden OCDS on St Thérèse of Lisieux.
Virtual Chapter Update
14/November/2009
Very many thanks to all who took part in yesterday's Virtual Chapter and to those tried to but were defeated by the TalkShoe™ installation process. Digitalnun has prepared an informal guide with screenshots which you can download from the sidebar: just click on the PDF icon. We suggest that you try out the software by listening in to another talkshow on the TalkShoe site. We've found that it works quite well: the wind here was gusting terribly throughout yesterday's recording but there wasn't too much degradation of audio quality. On a good day the quality is excellent.
If anyone wishes to hear how our first experiment went, you can listen again by clicking on the widget in the sidebar here or the one on the podcast page.
The echo effect you can hear at times was caused by one of our participants having set his output volumes a little high, but that is easily remedied. There was more use of the chat option than is likely to be the case in future (we were trying to help people get online), hence some of the silences. All we need now is some feedback and questions/ideas/suggestions for any future events. Thank you to those who have already given encouragement. We were very apprehensive!
Now Saturday can be a "normal" day. One wonders what it will hold. Scroll down to comment . . .
If anyone wishes to hear how our first experiment went, you can listen again by clicking on the widget in the sidebar here or the one on the podcast page.
The echo effect you can hear at times was caused by one of our participants having set his output volumes a little high, but that is easily remedied. There was more use of the chat option than is likely to be the case in future (we were trying to help people get online), hence some of the silences. All we need now is some feedback and questions/ideas/suggestions for any future events. Thank you to those who have already given encouragement. We were very apprehensive!
Now Saturday can be a "normal" day. One wonders what it will hold. Scroll down to comment . . .
All Benedictine Saints 2009
13/November/2009
Salve festa dies! Rather a lot of people to celebrate today, from St Benedict himself, Father of Western Monasticism, to Dorothy Day, Benedictine Oblate and Servant of God. (Before anyone asks, the stages of canonisation, or official proclamation as a saint in the Catholic Church, go Servant of God–Venerable–Blessed–Saint).
One of the things I like about Dorothy Day is the fact that she was so honest: about her life ("Don't call me a saint – I don't want to be dismissed that easily"), her temper ("I hold more temper in one minute than you will hold in your entire life"), and God ("If I have accomplished anything in my life, it is because I wasn't embarrassed to talk about God"). She was certainly never held back by embarrassment in any sphere, and thank God for that. She was prickly and prophetic, utterly centred on Christ.
Honesty is very closely linked to the humility St Benedict saw as the foundation of monastic living. It isn't easy to be honest. Most of us make all sorts of accommodations and compromises to shield ourselves from the truth, even though we know, deep down, that letting the Light into our lives is the only way to freedom and peace. St Benedict urges us everyday to open our eyes to the light that comes from God. Isn't it encouraging that we have so many men and women as different as Benedict and Dorothy to show us the way?
News and Views
12/November/2009
Yesterday afternoon we learned that D. Maria Boulding of Stanbrook had died after a long and painful illness. She will be known to many for her books and articles, but we think of her primarily as the person we knew in community, including the years she lived as a hermit on the Welsh/Herefordshire borders: prayerful, delighting in nature and her dog, Bryn, blessed with a keen intelligence and a singularly beautiful speaking voice. Please pray for her and the community which has now suffered two deaths in a comparatively short time. Later today we shall be singing a Dirge for her, that magnificent collection of psalms and prayers which affirms our belief in the triumph of Life over Death even as we ask for mercy and forgiveness.
The Virtual Chapter
What is a Chapter? some have asked. Chapter is the name given to a meeting of the monastic community. Usually, as tomorrow, there is some form of input such as a reading from the Rule of St Benedict followed by a short talk from the superior, then a discussion, which may or may not be linked to the input. The kind of things discussed vary enormously: business matters, the admission of candidates to community, liturgy, discipline, anything that affects the material and spiritual well-being of the community. Some of our own chapters have been about the way in which we should use the internet and the limits to our involvement. Tomorrow, it's largely up to you, the participants, what we discuss.
To take part you will need:
Blind leading the blind:
To begin with, you'll find that you are "muted", i.e. you won't immediately be able to talk. That will give us time to welcome you, and you time to explore the TalkShoe™interface if you are unfamiliar with teleconferencing. After the introductory talk, you'll be invited to speak. We'll guide you through the process if you need any help (that's the blind leading the blind bit). Then it's over to you. Digitalnun will try to ensure we don't all speak at once but please be patient as she is a novice at this kind of thing and will probably get muddled, poor old thing (Mouse, you have much to answer for).
If you miss the Chapter:
If you miss the Chapter, you'll be able to listen afterwards as it will be recorded. Just click on the widget again and you will be able to hear the recording.
A shared Cloister:
We have it in mind to hold a number of themed sessions on vocation, liturgy, prayer and so on but we'd really like feedback so that we can work on what might be genuinely useful. We also want to keep things simple and low cost. If you find tomorrow's session worthwhile, please spread the word. Spreading the Word being, of course, what it's really all about.
The Virtual Chapter
What is a Chapter? some have asked. Chapter is the name given to a meeting of the monastic community. Usually, as tomorrow, there is some form of input such as a reading from the Rule of St Benedict followed by a short talk from the superior, then a discussion, which may or may not be linked to the input. The kind of things discussed vary enormously: business matters, the admission of candidates to community, liturgy, discipline, anything that affects the material and spiritual well-being of the community. Some of our own chapters have been about the way in which we should use the internet and the limits to our involvement. Tomorrow, it's largely up to you, the participants, what we discuss.
To take part you will need:
- Headphones for listening (or turn the volume of your speakers up)
- A microphone for talking (if you have a Mac you can use the built-in one)
- click on the widget on our home page or in the sidebar of this blog OR
- paste this link into your browser http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/69374
Blind leading the blind:
To begin with, you'll find that you are "muted", i.e. you won't immediately be able to talk. That will give us time to welcome you, and you time to explore the TalkShoe™interface if you are unfamiliar with teleconferencing. After the introductory talk, you'll be invited to speak. We'll guide you through the process if you need any help (that's the blind leading the blind bit). Then it's over to you. Digitalnun will try to ensure we don't all speak at once but please be patient as she is a novice at this kind of thing and will probably get muddled, poor old thing (Mouse, you have much to answer for).
If you miss the Chapter:
If you miss the Chapter, you'll be able to listen afterwards as it will be recorded. Just click on the widget again and you will be able to hear the recording.
A shared Cloister:
We have it in mind to hold a number of themed sessions on vocation, liturgy, prayer and so on but we'd really like feedback so that we can work on what might be genuinely useful. We also want to keep things simple and low cost. If you find tomorrow's session worthwhile, please spread the word. Spreading the Word being, of course, what it's really all about.
Meandering Thoughts
11/November/2009
A day beloved of all monastics (horrible word!), the feast of St Martin of Tours, pioneer of monastic living in the west, but also the ninety-first anniversary of Armistice Day, the first on which there will be no survivors of the First World War to remind us of the horror and waste of that conflict. St Benedict gives us a chapter of the Rule (34) in which he spells out how the ban on private ownership is to be worked out in the monastery: we are to have what we need, not what we want or think we need. Perhaps it's my quirky apology for a brain, or the fact that I live with such generous and inspiring people as the community here, that makes me find a connecting thread in that tension between need and desire, the sacrificing of self for the good of others.
Martin was an ascetic. In fact, even his contemporaries sometimes wondered whether his tendency to have visions was the result of overlong fasts; but he was a man of deep and genuine compassion, always ready to emerge from his solitude to plead the cause of his people or come to their aid. He understood very well that his monastic retirement was not for himself alone. His ability to live on very little taught him to be aware of the need in others.
At 11 o'clock this morning we shall be remembering the causes of the First World War, and how the seeds of the Second were sown in the punitive settlement that ended it. The desire to make Germany pay meant that, ultimately, everyone paid. Perhaps there is a message here for all who exercise power. Conflicts begin because we want something we don't have but think we have a right to, and they go on because we forget that winning is not the whole story. A wilderness is not peace. Sometimes sacrificing "victory" is the best way to ensure that history does not repeat itself.
And what of Benedict, the man of peace? The Benedictine motto is the word peace (pax) surrounded by a crown of thorns. It reminds us that peace is a struggle, that it requires a daily renunciation of all that is not peace, of the disordered desires that so often make us unhappy. Above all, I think it reminds us that for a Christian peace can only be attained through union with the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ, who "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped but emptied himself, assuming the condition of a slave". And all for love of us.
Martin was an ascetic. In fact, even his contemporaries sometimes wondered whether his tendency to have visions was the result of overlong fasts; but he was a man of deep and genuine compassion, always ready to emerge from his solitude to plead the cause of his people or come to their aid. He understood very well that his monastic retirement was not for himself alone. His ability to live on very little taught him to be aware of the need in others.
At 11 o'clock this morning we shall be remembering the causes of the First World War, and how the seeds of the Second were sown in the punitive settlement that ended it. The desire to make Germany pay meant that, ultimately, everyone paid. Perhaps there is a message here for all who exercise power. Conflicts begin because we want something we don't have but think we have a right to, and they go on because we forget that winning is not the whole story. A wilderness is not peace. Sometimes sacrificing "victory" is the best way to ensure that history does not repeat itself.
And what of Benedict, the man of peace? The Benedictine motto is the word peace (pax) surrounded by a crown of thorns. It reminds us that peace is a struggle, that it requires a daily renunciation of all that is not peace, of the disordered desires that so often make us unhappy. Above all, I think it reminds us that for a Christian peace can only be attained through union with the sacrifice of our Lord Jesus Christ, who "did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped but emptied himself, assuming the condition of a slave". And all for love of us.
Anglicanorum Coetibus
10/November/2009
No time to do more yesterday than post a link to the Apostolic Constitution Anglicanorum Coetibus. If you haven't read it yet, you will find it in English here. (Link opens in new window). My first thought was, this is the fulfilment of the old prayer we used to say at Benediction and which as a child I prayed with great fervour since all my favourite family members were Anglican:
My second thought was, this is a generous document and I hope it will be received as such.
The preamble is important because it sets out very clearly that the papal offer is made in response to a perceived pastoral need; the pope's concern is, as always, for the unity of the Church. This is his solemn duty. Throughout the document there is an awareness that the Catholic Church does not act apart from the Orthodox in certain matters, a point worth making because some developments in other churches have been made in isolation, thus calling in question their understanding of the nature and practice of authority. There is clarity also about the Catechism of the Catholic Church being the authoritative statement of the Church's faith, while the Ordinariates are placed under the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. This will reassure those who have been worried by some of the wilder speculations we have read recently. Reassuring, too, will be the statement that former Catholic priests who left to exercise ministry as Anglicans will not be eligible for reinstatement as Catholic priests in the new Ordinariates.
The arrangements for priestly formation, for liturgical continuity, for religious communities and so on are generous and repay careful study. There will be much picking over the details, especially as regards the admission of married men and the permission now given for priests to have secular jobs in order to support their families, rather as Anglican non-stipendiaries currently do and as Catholic "Worker Priests" used to do. Unspoken here is the recognition that should large numbers of Anglican clergy choose to become Catholics, there isn't enough money to support them and their families in a decent manner.
As one might expect, the relations between the Ordinariates and the Bishops' Conferences are given several paragraphs. There are some real surprises here. The principle that bishops should be unmarried is maintained but married former Anglican bishops are, apparently, to be allowed to attend meetings of the relevant Bishops' Conference (where they will be accorded the status of retired bishops) and, if they so petition, allowed to use episcopal insignia (pectoral cross, ring, etc.) As a lapsed medievalist, I can see plenty of scope here for ecclesiological wrangling. Indeed, one of the questions I keep coming back to is, what is a bishop, what is his function in the Church? I hope I won't give offence if I say that the concept of the "flying bishop" has always been troubling to me (for theological rather than pastoral reasons, which I understand), while the use of episcopal insignia by one who is not regarded as a bishop I find confusing. Perhaps the concept of the "mitred prelate" is a valid analogy.
Anyway, I am sure that there is already masses of comment much better informed than Colophon's. We must continue to pray because no matter how good everyone's intentions are, no matter how hopeful everyone is that we will all obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the human cost will be huge. I notice that the Apostolic Constitution was signed on the feast of St Carlo Borromeo and issued on the feast of the Lateran Basilica, anniversary of the day the Berlin Wall came down. Significant?
O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God and our most gentle Queen and Mother, look down in mercy upon England, thy dowry, and upon us all who greatly hope and trust in thee. By thee it was that Jesus, our Saviour and our hope, was given unto the world; and He has given thee to us that we might hope still more. Plead for us thy children, whom thou didst receive and accept at the foot of the cross, O Sorrowful Mother. Intercede for our separated brethren, that with us in the one true fold, they may be united to the Chief Shepherd, the Vicar of thy Son. Pray for us all, dear Mother, that by faith, fruitful in good works, we may all deserve to see and praise God, together with thee in our heavenly home. Amen.
My second thought was, this is a generous document and I hope it will be received as such.
The preamble is important because it sets out very clearly that the papal offer is made in response to a perceived pastoral need; the pope's concern is, as always, for the unity of the Church. This is his solemn duty. Throughout the document there is an awareness that the Catholic Church does not act apart from the Orthodox in certain matters, a point worth making because some developments in other churches have been made in isolation, thus calling in question their understanding of the nature and practice of authority. There is clarity also about the Catechism of the Catholic Church being the authoritative statement of the Church's faith, while the Ordinariates are placed under the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. This will reassure those who have been worried by some of the wilder speculations we have read recently. Reassuring, too, will be the statement that former Catholic priests who left to exercise ministry as Anglicans will not be eligible for reinstatement as Catholic priests in the new Ordinariates.
The arrangements for priestly formation, for liturgical continuity, for religious communities and so on are generous and repay careful study. There will be much picking over the details, especially as regards the admission of married men and the permission now given for priests to have secular jobs in order to support their families, rather as Anglican non-stipendiaries currently do and as Catholic "Worker Priests" used to do. Unspoken here is the recognition that should large numbers of Anglican clergy choose to become Catholics, there isn't enough money to support them and their families in a decent manner.
As one might expect, the relations between the Ordinariates and the Bishops' Conferences are given several paragraphs. There are some real surprises here. The principle that bishops should be unmarried is maintained but married former Anglican bishops are, apparently, to be allowed to attend meetings of the relevant Bishops' Conference (where they will be accorded the status of retired bishops) and, if they so petition, allowed to use episcopal insignia (pectoral cross, ring, etc.) As a lapsed medievalist, I can see plenty of scope here for ecclesiological wrangling. Indeed, one of the questions I keep coming back to is, what is a bishop, what is his function in the Church? I hope I won't give offence if I say that the concept of the "flying bishop" has always been troubling to me (for theological rather than pastoral reasons, which I understand), while the use of episcopal insignia by one who is not regarded as a bishop I find confusing. Perhaps the concept of the "mitred prelate" is a valid analogy.
Anyway, I am sure that there is already masses of comment much better informed than Colophon's. We must continue to pray because no matter how good everyone's intentions are, no matter how hopeful everyone is that we will all obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit, the human cost will be huge. I notice that the Apostolic Constitution was signed on the feast of St Carlo Borromeo and issued on the feast of the Lateran Basilica, anniversary of the day the Berlin Wall came down. Significant?
Virtual Chapter
09/November/2009
Two little changes to start the working week. First, we've noticed a number of people using translation services to read this blog. To make things a little easier, we are now experimenting with a Google™Translate widget which will provide a rough and ready translation in several languages. Try it and see! The results can be more exciting than the original post.
Virtual Chapter
Secondly, at 4.00 p.m. GMT on Friday, 13 November, God willing, we shall be hosting our first Virtual Chapter using TalkShoe™, a teleconferencing service based in the U.S.A. There will be a short talk from the prioress on the feast of the day (All Benedictine Saints), followed by an opportunity for discussion. As this is our first attempt at a Virtual Chapter, please bear with us as we struggle to master the technology and hit the right buttons. Digitalnun will be quite ruthless about muting anyone who tries to hog the conversation or causes annoyance to others, but if all goes as we hope we'll certainly introduce more online sessions.
How to take part
There are two main ways of taking part over the internet using VOIP (Voice Over Internet Protocol) so that you do not incur the expense of a telephone call to Pittsburgh.
(1) If you wish only to listen/use the live text facility (which allows you to type your comments in real time), you can click on the TalkShoe badge in the sidebar of this blog to connect over the internet or you can paste this link into your browser http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/69374. (2) If you wish not only to listen/text but also to talk, you should (preferably) first download the TalkShoe Live software (which is free) and follow the instructions for installing it on your computer (Mac or Windows) then make use of the integrated ShoePhone application to join in.
If you don't want to use VOIP, you can, of course, use an ordinary landline or mobile to connect, but please check call charges before you do so as we wouldn't want anyone to incur an unexpected telephone bill. You would need to telephone the U.S.A. (724) 444-7444 and add the call series ID which is 69374.
TalkShoe™ Software
You can read more about TalkShoe and download TalkShoe Live software here. A guide to taking part will be posted the day before the Virtual Chapter in case anyone is still confused.
Prayer Podcast
There is no podcast this week but when the series resumes, the link will be found on the Podcast page, not Colophon. We need a more logical grouping of media files. At present our site reflects the fact that, like Topsy, it "just growed", and as we add more content navigation becomes more complex. Not a good idea!
Virtual Chapter
Secondly, at 4.00 p.m. GMT on Friday, 13 November, God willing, we shall be hosting our first Virtual Chapter using TalkShoe™, a teleconferencing service based in the U.S.A. There will be a short talk from the prioress on the feast of the day (All Benedictine Saints), followed by an opportunity for discussion. As this is our first attempt at a Virtual Chapter, please bear with us as we struggle to master the technology and hit the right buttons. Digitalnun will be quite ruthless about muting anyone who tries to hog the conversation or causes annoyance to others, but if all goes as we hope we'll certainly introduce more online sessions.
How to take part
There are two main ways of taking part over the internet using VOIP (Voice Over Internet Protocol) so that you do not incur the expense of a telephone call to Pittsburgh.
(1) If you wish only to listen/use the live text facility (which allows you to type your comments in real time), you can click on the TalkShoe badge in the sidebar of this blog to connect over the internet or you can paste this link into your browser http://www.talkshoe.com/tc/69374. (2) If you wish not only to listen/text but also to talk, you should (preferably) first download the TalkShoe Live software (which is free) and follow the instructions for installing it on your computer (Mac or Windows) then make use of the integrated ShoePhone application to join in.
If you don't want to use VOIP, you can, of course, use an ordinary landline or mobile to connect, but please check call charges before you do so as we wouldn't want anyone to incur an unexpected telephone bill. You would need to telephone the U.S.A. (724) 444-7444 and add the call series ID which is 69374.
TalkShoe™ Software
You can read more about TalkShoe and download TalkShoe Live software here. A guide to taking part will be posted the day before the Virtual Chapter in case anyone is still confused.
Prayer Podcast
There is no podcast this week but when the series resumes, the link will be found on the Podcast page, not Colophon. We need a more logical grouping of media files. At present our site reflects the fact that, like Topsy, it "just growed", and as we add more content navigation becomes more complex. Not a good idea!
Remembrance Sunday 2009
08/November/2009
The sound of half-muffled bells from Worcester Cathedral on Remembrance Sunday is always evocative and brings back memories of snatches heard across the water meadows. It is one of the few days in the year when all fifteen bells are rung and those who know about such things get terribly excited about musical tenths. For us, it is simply part of the sound of Remembrance Sunday, along with blood-red poppies and the moving sight of former servicemen and women laying wreaths in memory of the fallen. This year hearts will be heavy with the knowledge that loss of life continues. The Great War to end all Wars ushered in another, and many have followed since.Have you ever asked yourself what is going on during the Two Minutes' Silence? Many will be thinking about family members or comrades they have lost, or the pity and horror of war in general; others will be praying for all who have died in war and for those who grieve or suffer as a result; others again will be asking God to guide us into the ways of peace. But what will God be praying? If the question startles, consider. When we pray, we tend to concentrate on our part in the prayer and forget God's. We cry out to him readily enough in moments of sorrow and distress but how rarely do we hear God crying out to us? We are not good at listening, still less good at acting on what we hear because we know that what God says may challenge us in ways we would rather not be challenged.
Today is not only Remembrance Sunday, it is also the anniversary of Enniskillin. Those of us who remember that horror were deeply impressed by Gordon Wilson's willingness to forgive the brutal murder of his daughter. Wasn't that an example of someone listening to God's prayer and responding with a generosity most of us could never match? Perhaps this morning during the Two Minutes' Silence we could humbly await God's word rather than filling the silence with our own clamour. He knows and understands our need, and only he can turn our hearts to better things. If our prayer is powerful with God, shouldn't his prayer be even more powerful with us?.
Day of Recollection
07/November/2009
We have the local branch of the C.W.L. coming here today for a Day of Recollection. We are always very edified by their kindness and zeal. More often than not, we find teams of them using some of their precious free time to help out with the washing-up or perform other apparently small but valuable acts of service during the day. It is a reminder to us as a community of the importance of detail in monastic life. As Cassian remarked, "If you just remove a little dust from the oratory for the love of God, you will not be without your reward."
Now, there's a very interesting phrase in that sentence quoted above: if you "just". How often do we hear "if you just" or "could/couldn't you just" and know that we are in for something the speaker either does not realise, or is not willing to admit, will be anything but "just"? In the practical sphere it may be something like, "Well, couldn't you just fit these 3 pages of closely written A3 sheets into an A5 flyer for me?" Answer, "Yes, if we may delete at least 95% of what you have written" which usually leads to a wobbly. Or, discussing the manifest deficiencies of another, "I don't see why he doesn't just . . . .", when it must be perfectly obvious why he doesn't "just" whatever.
It all becomes more serious when it is God who is "just" asking something of us. One sees it in monastic life. People give up all the big things — marriage, family, career — then stumble over something as small and inconsiderable as being required to eat one kind of food when they prefer another. Of course, it is not God who is asking this directly of the monk or nun; but living a common life is part of our response to God's invitation to become a monk or nun. It is quite easy to opt out of the common life, to make little accommodations that gradually whittle away the substance of what we have vowed. If we "just" do this or that it may not amount to much in our own eyes, but when it comes to evaluating something we need to look with God's eyes, not our own. Most of us are not called to do great and glorious things for the love of God, we are "just" called to get on with the business of everyday, and do whatever it is we have to do with love and fidelity. The ladies of the C.W.L. are a wonderful example of "just" being good Catholics. A reminder, if we need one, that life and death, heaven and hell, can all turn on that little word, "just".
(N.B. We don't know why comments are disappearing from this blog: the problem seems to be with JS-Kit as others have reported the same. We'll investigate.)
Now, there's a very interesting phrase in that sentence quoted above: if you "just". How often do we hear "if you just" or "could/couldn't you just" and know that we are in for something the speaker either does not realise, or is not willing to admit, will be anything but "just"? In the practical sphere it may be something like, "Well, couldn't you just fit these 3 pages of closely written A3 sheets into an A5 flyer for me?" Answer, "Yes, if we may delete at least 95% of what you have written" which usually leads to a wobbly. Or, discussing the manifest deficiencies of another, "I don't see why he doesn't just . . . .", when it must be perfectly obvious why he doesn't "just" whatever.
It all becomes more serious when it is God who is "just" asking something of us. One sees it in monastic life. People give up all the big things — marriage, family, career — then stumble over something as small and inconsiderable as being required to eat one kind of food when they prefer another. Of course, it is not God who is asking this directly of the monk or nun; but living a common life is part of our response to God's invitation to become a monk or nun. It is quite easy to opt out of the common life, to make little accommodations that gradually whittle away the substance of what we have vowed. If we "just" do this or that it may not amount to much in our own eyes, but when it comes to evaluating something we need to look with God's eyes, not our own. Most of us are not called to do great and glorious things for the love of God, we are "just" called to get on with the business of everyday, and do whatever it is we have to do with love and fidelity. The ladies of the C.W.L. are a wonderful example of "just" being good Catholics. A reminder, if we need one, that life and death, heaven and hell, can all turn on that little word, "just".
(N.B. We don't know why comments are disappearing from this blog: the problem seems to be with JS-Kit as others have reported the same. We'll investigate.)
Bonfire Night
05/November/2009
We are rather hoping that the local pub will be having a firework display this evening. The monastery is such a tall building that it is quite easy to walk along the upper corridor and accidentally on purpose linger by one of the windows to watch the fun. There is something very reassuring about 5 November, when all good Catholics cheerfully ignore the burning of papal guys down in Lewes and indulge in nostalgia for bygone days.
Of course, we are in the heart of Thames Valley Recusant country here. From our terrace one can look across to the medieval chapel of the Eyston family which has never been out of Catholic hands since it was built in 1256. Mapledurham, Milton, Stonor, all are within a short distance, while Campion and Challoner are names to conjure with for their local associations as well as their place in history. I mention this because one of the more amusing aspects of recent comments on the forthcoming Apostolic Constitution (thank heavens for some light relief amid the turmoil) is the belief that Catholics in this country have no history, or at any rate, none worth talking about. On the contrary, we have an interesting history, shadowy in parts it is true, but fascinating to those who can identify with it. Digitalnun was regaling us with the darker side of her family's activities in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Apparently, they stuck to their guns (those who know Digitalnun will understand that it's in the genes) and had some slightly dodgy characters like John the Monk (an ex-monk of Canterbury, pensioned off after the Dissolution) among their number, but then made the fatal mistake of meddling with politics. You can guess the rest.
Colophon does not advocate the view that the Church should steer clear of politics. On the contrary, the Church must necessarily be engaged wherever people are. It will always be difficult to decide how that engagement should be worked out and mistakes are bound to occur, but today we can salute all those who, at various times and in various ways, have tried to make the world a better place through their political service. Guy Fawkes' solution isn't one that appeals to us nowadays, especially since we have become all too familiar with the use of terror and murder as political weapons, so perhaps we might spare a grateful thought for those whose quiet integrity gives the lie to the belief that politicians are universally corrupt. Remember what ten just men might achieve and pray for all our politicians.
Of course, we are in the heart of Thames Valley Recusant country here. From our terrace one can look across to the medieval chapel of the Eyston family which has never been out of Catholic hands since it was built in 1256. Mapledurham, Milton, Stonor, all are within a short distance, while Campion and Challoner are names to conjure with for their local associations as well as their place in history. I mention this because one of the more amusing aspects of recent comments on the forthcoming Apostolic Constitution (thank heavens for some light relief amid the turmoil) is the belief that Catholics in this country have no history, or at any rate, none worth talking about. On the contrary, we have an interesting history, shadowy in parts it is true, but fascinating to those who can identify with it. Digitalnun was regaling us with the darker side of her family's activities in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Apparently, they stuck to their guns (those who know Digitalnun will understand that it's in the genes) and had some slightly dodgy characters like John the Monk (an ex-monk of Canterbury, pensioned off after the Dissolution) among their number, but then made the fatal mistake of meddling with politics. You can guess the rest.
Colophon does not advocate the view that the Church should steer clear of politics. On the contrary, the Church must necessarily be engaged wherever people are. It will always be difficult to decide how that engagement should be worked out and mistakes are bound to occur, but today we can salute all those who, at various times and in various ways, have tried to make the world a better place through their political service. Guy Fawkes' solution isn't one that appeals to us nowadays, especially since we have become all too familiar with the use of terror and murder as political weapons, so perhaps we might spare a grateful thought for those whose quiet integrity gives the lie to the belief that politicians are universally corrupt. Remember what ten just men might achieve and pray for all our politicians.
Supernun
04/November/2009
Digitalnun is having a crisis. Not a big crisis, you understand. No terrible internal debate about questions of faith or morals, no sudden onset of doubt about the value of monastic life; not even a niggle about The Purpose of the Universe. No, Digitalnun is wondering whether she should let others into her Dark Secret. She is not Supernun. There, it's out! And the moon is still silvery in the sky, the dog is still chasing rabbits in his sleep, and the world has not fallen into a Black Hole.
By the time we have reached a certain age, most of us suffer from various delusions, one of the most deadly (literally) being that we must always say "yes". This affects Christians of all kinds, and is especially prevalent among the clergy and members of religious communities. It is easy to see why. We so want to be always ready to do the will of God and devote much time and effort to trying to discern what He is asking. We know He often speaks through those with whom we come into contact so we are always on the alert. Those of us who have "signed up" to an obviously full-time commitment often allow a very human element of guilt to creep in when faced with demands that tax our strength. Are we doing enough? Dare we say "no"? The problem is that we cannot always handle the reactions of others if we do say "no". We can be imprisoned by fear, and that is quite the opposite of the freedom love confers. A cowardly "yes" is morally no different from a cowardly "no": it just sounds better. And we all like to be liked.
So, Digitalnun, who is not Supernun, has a proposal to make. Let's make today a day on which we all take stock, not of the demands we make on others nor of the demands others make on us, but of the demands we make on ourselves. How far are they consistent with what we are called to be? Are they really a covert source of pride? Little tin fig leaves we create for ourselves which ultimately are rather ridiculous.
By the time we have reached a certain age, most of us suffer from various delusions, one of the most deadly (literally) being that we must always say "yes". This affects Christians of all kinds, and is especially prevalent among the clergy and members of religious communities. It is easy to see why. We so want to be always ready to do the will of God and devote much time and effort to trying to discern what He is asking. We know He often speaks through those with whom we come into contact so we are always on the alert. Those of us who have "signed up" to an obviously full-time commitment often allow a very human element of guilt to creep in when faced with demands that tax our strength. Are we doing enough? Dare we say "no"? The problem is that we cannot always handle the reactions of others if we do say "no". We can be imprisoned by fear, and that is quite the opposite of the freedom love confers. A cowardly "yes" is morally no different from a cowardly "no": it just sounds better. And we all like to be liked.
So, Digitalnun, who is not Supernun, has a proposal to make. Let's make today a day on which we all take stock, not of the demands we make on others nor of the demands others make on us, but of the demands we make on ourselves. How far are they consistent with what we are called to be? Are they really a covert source of pride? Little tin fig leaves we create for ourselves which ultimately are rather ridiculous.
All Souls
02/November/2009
All Saints would be incomplete without All Souls: the Church is one and transcends time, space and the limitations of mortality. I am looking forward to Mass this morning. We ran over the chants just before Vespers last night and the juxtaposition proved very helpful. For Catholics November is a month which confronts us with the fact of death at every turn. After All Souls we have four weeks popularly dedicated to praying for the souls in purgatory; our monastic calendar has commemorations for deceased friends and benefactors as well as deceased members of the monastic order. It is all so counter-cultural. Only a few days ago we read of the possibility of centenarians having the bodies of fifty-year olds. Why should anyone want that (unless, of course, we are all feverishly working until 100+ to pay off the enormous debt we have all incurred, courtesy of current economic policy)? Many people are afraid of death, or at least of dying. It is common to entrust the last offices to undertakers, then construct funeral services which try to avoid all mention of death, sometimes lapsing into an embarrassed "celebration" of something, certainly someone, that never was. Perhaps that is why unacknowledged grief, the sheer impossibility of grieving in our society, wreaks so much havoc. A stiff upper lip needs a wobbly lower one if we are to remain human. Happily, in the monastery we are much more matter-of-fact about death and the business of dying. We prepare our dead for burial ourselves, and the Requiem Mass and funeral rites speak of hope and penitence, joy and sorrrow in equal measure. If we live by the mercy of God, do we not also die by His mercy, too? That is, I trust, a comfortable thought for the morning of All Souls.
All Saints
01/November/2009
One picture is worth a thousand words, although, of course, it takes words to say that. So, here is a a favourite Fra Angelico and a podcast about the Solemnities of All Saints and All Souls.
Of Saints, Spooks and Serendipity
31/October/2009
November is a festive month. The long dark nights are illumined by little sparkles of joy and thanksgiving. We begin with the great feasts of All Saints and All Souls, a wonderful celebration of the whole Church, both here on earth (the Church militant), nearly there (the Church being prepared in purgatory for the joy of heaven) and already enjoying that for which we long (the Church triumphant in heaven); on 13 November we shall celebrate All Benedictine Saints and there are a number of lesser celebrations in between which will provide opportunities to pray for dead members of our families and communities. If you've lived in southern Europe, you'll understand the wistfulness affecting some of the community. Southern Europe understands the link between the living and the dead: lights and flowers will adorn the graves of the beloved dead, while prayers and partying will go together. It will be warm and human, and the divine will be welcomed in an uncomplicated and direct way. Our cold northern obsession with spooks seems quite literally soulless by comparison. Fortunately, First Vespers of All Saints will be a splendid beginning to two days of liturgical exuberance.
So where does the serendipity come in? Think communication, think Church, saints in heaven, saints on earth . . . the song of the saints . . . Are you with us yet? Here's a clue. Regular readers know we intend to make changes to this site. This will be the last week-end that the weekly podcast will be linked to the blog page (we're hoping our oldest nun will do the podcast this week but she doesn't know she's being asked yet, so please don't let her know). The podcast is moving because we have a great new feature we are hoping to introduce in November: the virtual Chapter. This will give anyone who wishes an opportunity to listen via VOIP (i.e. via their computers, no call charges) to a live talk from one of the community followed by a live discussion over the ether: an opportunity to visit the monastery without actually making the journey. Initial tests have been encouraging so we have tentatively scheduled the first Chapter for the afternoon of 13 November (All Benedictine Saints). We are allowing fifteen minutes for the first session and will see how it goes. All you need to take part is a computer with internet connection, speakers or headphones (i.e. some way of listening), and if you want to take part in the discussion, an inbuilt microphone or one you can hook up to your computer. Full details will be posted; if no-one joins us, it won't matter because as everyone knows, contemplative nuns can talk the hind legs off the proverbial donkey given half a chance.
In the meantime, may you all have a blessed time celebrating what God has done in and for His people. Pray for the lonely, the bereaved and those who may find some aspects of this week-end a little frightening. "Cliffs of fall. . . hold them cheap who ne'er hung there". (A lazy misquote, but you get the drift.)
So where does the serendipity come in? Think communication, think Church, saints in heaven, saints on earth . . . the song of the saints . . . Are you with us yet? Here's a clue. Regular readers know we intend to make changes to this site. This will be the last week-end that the weekly podcast will be linked to the blog page (we're hoping our oldest nun will do the podcast this week but she doesn't know she's being asked yet, so please don't let her know). The podcast is moving because we have a great new feature we are hoping to introduce in November: the virtual Chapter. This will give anyone who wishes an opportunity to listen via VOIP (i.e. via their computers, no call charges) to a live talk from one of the community followed by a live discussion over the ether: an opportunity to visit the monastery without actually making the journey. Initial tests have been encouraging so we have tentatively scheduled the first Chapter for the afternoon of 13 November (All Benedictine Saints). We are allowing fifteen minutes for the first session and will see how it goes. All you need to take part is a computer with internet connection, speakers or headphones (i.e. some way of listening), and if you want to take part in the discussion, an inbuilt microphone or one you can hook up to your computer. Full details will be posted; if no-one joins us, it won't matter because as everyone knows, contemplative nuns can talk the hind legs off the proverbial donkey given half a chance.
In the meantime, may you all have a blessed time celebrating what God has done in and for His people. Pray for the lonely, the bereaved and those who may find some aspects of this week-end a little frightening. "Cliffs of fall. . . hold them cheap who ne'er hung there". (A lazy misquote, but you get the drift.)
The Penal Code in RB
30/October/2009
Today we begin reading Benedict's chapters on how to deal with those who offend in some way against the community and/or the monastic way of life (not always the same thing). The list of faults begins with insubordination, then makes its way through disobedience, pride, grumbling, despising the Rule and contempt for the orders of senior members of the community. We could turn the list on its head and say that the very qualities Benedict seems suspicious of are qualities our society rather admires: independence of mind and action, a sense of self-worth, a critical attitude, freedom from convention ("pettyfogging little rules") and a healthy disregard for the Old Guard and its outmoded opinions. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Read RB 23 again. What Benedict is actually addressing is the tendency in each one of us to forget that we are not the centre of creation, to make ourselves separate and special at the expense of others. Whether we like it or no, we have to live with other people and that means accommodating ourselves to the needs of the group (family, community, organization or what you will). The faults Benedict lists spiral outwards from the interior to the exterior, from attitudes to concrete actions. He sees this as a kind of spiritual malaise which throws us off-balance. His approach to bringing us back to our senses is graduated: a private warning, followed by a public rebuke if that doesn't work; then excommunication from meals or prayer in common or, if we are really thick, some form of corporal punishment (in the sixth century, usually a fast or strokes of the rod: nowadays this is NOT practised!). Perhaps the message for us today is to think about our membership of the various bodies to which we belong, how we build them up, how we weaken them and what we should do about both.
Cloister Updates
29/October/2009
Excellent talk on St Thérèse by Annette Goulden last night. We'll be putting it up on our Talks page once we've been through the recording. As a Child Psychiatrist, Annette made a good case for Thérèse's having survived what was, by any standards, an extraordinary childhood to become a woman of rare confidence and courage, far removed from the sickly-sweet "Little Flower" of popular myth. Another group expected today and more people at the week-end, so the kitchen is piled with dishes waiting to be cooked or frozen as appropriate. Next week-end we have a group wanting a day on Hildegarde of Bingen so we have elected the prioress to give a talk on her. The news was greeted with a dangerously "blotting-paper" look, so we wonder what we have let ourselves in for. The new choir psalters are proving a success: much better layout and printing than heretofore, although the paper is not all it might be. The garden is still full of colour, which is a joy, and last Sunday's short talks after Mass on the work of St Cecilia's have resulted in some generous offers of help. More about that at a later date. So, life continues as usual, with various activities going on in different parts of the monastery, all held together and given coherence by the regular round of prayer and worship largely unseen (or not adverted to) by those outside the cloister. Thérèse wanted to be love at the heart of the Church. Perhaps for a Benedictine it is a case of wanting to be love and praise at the heart of the Church.