4 October: Pope Francis in Assisi

Pope Francis in Assisi - OSS_ROM

 On the Feast of Saint Francis we invite you to share Pope Francis’s words of peace at Assisi last year.

Appeal for Peace of His Holiness Pope Francis

Piazza of Saint Francis, Assisi

Tuesday, 20 September 2016

Men and women of various religions, we gather as pilgrims in the city of Saint Francis.  Thirty years ago in 1986, religious representatives from all over the world met here at the invitation of Pope John Paul II.  It was the first such solemn gathering that brought so many together, in order to affirm the indissoluble bond between the great good of peace and an authentic religious attitude.  From that historic event, a long pilgrimage was begun which has touched many cities of the world, involving many believers in dialogue and in praying for peace.  It has brought people together without denying their differences, giving life to real interreligious friendships and contributing to the resolution of more than a few conflicts.  This is the spirit that animates us: to bring about encounters through dialogue, and to oppose every form of violence and abuse of religion which seeks to justify war and terrorism.   And yet, in the years that have followed, numerous populations have nonetheless been painfully wounded by war.  People do not always understand that war harms the world, leaving in its wake a legacy of sorrows and hate.  In war, everyone loses, including the victors.

We have prayed to God, asking him to grant peace to the world.  We recognize the need to pray constantly for peace, because prayer protects the world and enlightens it.  God’s name is peace.  The one who calls upon God’s name to justify terrorism, violence and war does not follow God’s path.  War in the name of religion becomes a war against religion itself.  With firm resolve, therefore, let us reiterate that violence and terrorism are opposed to an authentic religious spirit.

We have heard the voice of the poor, of children and the younger generations, of women and so many brothers and sisters who are suffering due to war.  With them let us say with conviction: No to war!  May the anguished cry of the many innocents not go unheeded.  Let us urge leaders of nations to defuse the causes of war: the lust for power and money, the greed of arms’ dealers, personal interests and vendettas for past wrongs.  We need a greater commitment to eradicating the underlying causes of conflicts: poverty, injustice and inequality, the exploitation of and contempt for human life.

May a new season finally begin, in which the globalized world can become a family of peoples.  May we carry out our responsibility of building an authentic peace, attentive to the real needs of individuals and peoples, capable of preventing conflicts through a cooperation that triumphs over hate and overcomes barriers through encounter and dialogue.  Nothing is lost when we effectively enter into dialogue.  Nothing is impossible if we turn to God in prayer.  Everyone can be an artisan of peace.  Through this gathering in Assisi, we resolutely renew our commitment to be such artisans, by the help of God, together will all men and women of good will.

 

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March 18th – Does this make God too human?

 

 

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York Minster: Mary meets Jesus, the Gardener 

Does this make God too human? We need to allow God to be extravagant; indeed through the Incarnation we and all creation are saturated with God – so much so that we can’t avoid meeting! This is not adding God to our list of experiences, rather is it our actual experiencing itself of God. If we can’t see God everywhere, we can’t expect to see God when we gather for worship and celebration.

The ordinary gift of enjoying life [I’ve come that you might have life in abundance] is waiting for our risking what it takes. This is really Mysticism – the search for real presence hidden in everyday things, waiting to be uncovered through fascination. Divine Providence does not so much protect us from evil, but to realize that the evil results from desiring something good – albeit misguided. God’s love for you is no greater in heaven than it is already now [Aquinas].

What does sin look like? It is blind to beauty, by-passes goodness in its many forms and lacks imagination. Sin sees no joy in honest creativity and replaces trust with cynicism. Sin is much more than lots of sins; it is an attitude of refusal to recognize value in self-giving and goodness. Sin drains, has no life and surrenders to self-hate, and shadows every experience with fear and cynicism; it despises enjoyment for enjoyment’s sake and doesn’t bless or give thanks.

AMcC

 

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20 April: Telling the Truth IV: Poetry.

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A few more thoughts on telling the truth. It is not just setting the facts down – that is always going to be a selective exercise, and an interpretive one, as I am discovering writing my biography of Arthur Hughes. Poetry is truth telling in yet another mode. Here is John Betjeman, sometime Poet Laureate:

What poetry is, I do not quite know. Maybe it is the right words in the right order. For me it requires rhythm and, as an extra flourish, rhyme. It is the shortest and the most memorable way of saying what you want said.

In Lovely bits of Old England. Gavin Fuller, Ed. London, Aurum, 2012.  P96.

Betjeman was building on a previous poet’s definition:

I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose,—words in their best order; poetry,—the best words in their best order.

 Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Note the link between Fran Horner’s quest for succinctness (see yesterday’s post) and Betjeman’s  ‘shortest and most memorable’ way of saying something!

With that, I’ll hush up!

MMB

Charlottenberg Park, Berlin.

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19 April: Telling the Truth III: Reliability

reader (640x608)

I recently read an article by a researcher at the John Rylands  Library, Manchester.   Fran Horner  tells about her work. Do follow the link, especially if you enjoy being surprised poetically, and to follow up the short extract here.

Ms Horner has this to say about a particular mode of telling the truth:

It has been interesting learning about what categories of information are essential for the catalogue, for example: publisher, year published, volume and editor are all extremely important; whether I liked or disliked the poems… not so important. I have also discovered things about the appropriate type of language and structure I must use within the catalogue: the language must be succinct and consistent to ensure its reliability and usefulness as a finding aid. In the future, researchers may be using my catalogue!

Note the duty not to misinform her readers; readers she will almost surely never meet!

Let us never be slapdash with regard to truth: we may feel we are telling the truth, but are our words -and actions – as Ms Horner says, reliable witnesses in other people’s ears and eyes?

MMB

The Reader, Zakopane, Poland.

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18 April : A comforting doctrine: telling the truth in art. (Telling truth II)

Normandy_June_1944-_Naval_Control_Post_on_the_Beaches_Art.IWMARTLD4392

Edward Ardizzone was employed as an official War Artist during World War II, serving in North Africa, including El Alamein, then the invasion of Italy and the Normandy Landings. How does an artist convey the horrors and humanity of War? Ardizzone’s soldiers and civilians are human, drawn with a loving understanding of our fallen but persistently rising nature. This picture shows a scene on the beaches during the Normandy Landings and is from the Imperial War Museum, released on the public domain.

A couple of months before he had confided in his diary:

[I] have a feeling that painters should not be interested in metaphysics – should be simple people entirely absorbed in what they do. If they are big themselves, what they do is big – if little, little; but only a matter of degree like major and minor poets and not to be bothered about. A comforting doctrine for me who am feeling incredibly small at the moment.

Let us pray that sometime today we may experience the grace of being entirely absorbed in what we do: loving what we do, as Ardizzone loved his work and the humans he was painting.

MMB.

Diary of a War Artist, Edward Ardizzone, Bodley Head, 1974. Worth seeking out.

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17 April: The Vision by Mary Webb.

Boudicca

The Vision

In the busy tongues of spring
There’s an angel carolling.
Kneeling low in any place,
We may see the Father’s face;
Standing quiet anywhere,
Hear our Lady speaking fair;
And in daily marketings
Feel the rush of beating wings.
Watching always, wonderingly,
All the faces passing by,
There we see through pain and wrong
Christ look out, serene and strong.
Let Mary Webb bring us her Easter vision. Although she was a Shropshire woman, she spent some time in London, where these faces were passing CD.

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Interruption: Decay, Change and Time.

whitby-cloudy-evening

Time? Would it exist if we did not mark or measure it? A gift, or a ‘given’, an axiom of existence? I recommend this posting from the Vatican Observatory website by Fr James Kurzynski to ponder on time and how we live and move and have our being in it.

decay-and-change

An ongoing Happy Easter to All! Will.

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16 April: A true story and a modern parable.

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Ashford – next stop Canterbury!

John Renn, sometime leader of L’Arche Kent, shared this story, which fits well with the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, who recognised Jesus in a moment of revelation.

For more than forty years I have been a member of the L’Arche Community that welcomes people with learning disabilities.

One morning, several years ago, after attending the morning Eucharist at the Cathedral, I was stopped on my bicycle by the level crossing in Saint Dunstan’s Street. I was feeling down; I was having a hard time. Helen, a member of the community, was on the opposite side of the street and the other side of the barriers. She noticed me and started waving, making joyous sounds and moving her body in excitement.

Helen was rejoicing in my being. She reminded me that God rejoices in my being too. Helen transformed my day.

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Paschal Candles from years past, on display in Canterbury Cathedral: Christ the same yesterday, today, tomorrow. Lead Kindly Light, and give us eyes to discern the light that will lead to the dawn.

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April 15: Feeling the Fire: III

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Back to Ignatius for a final word:

Thank you Will. I don’t doubt it. Writing this post, I was reminded of all the hidden, inglorious heroes there are. The kingdom of God certainly hasn’t been conquered or even cornered. No, absolutely, “slow burn” is the opposite of lukewarm.

An LED seems to me like a more natural analogy for the false, lifeless light and heat of the world, since it has literally no fire (unless it is broken), but I take your point. The fire is amongst us still.

I think you’re right. Feeding the fire is at least the place to begin.

The funny thing I find is, whenever I face discouragement like this, I quickly get very encouraged. When the world feels coldest, the gospel feels most powerful, and the world suddenly full of the gospel.

Palm Sunday Sussundenga, Mozambique 2015 01

I think I need to revisit my memories of Krakow actually. It sort of jump-started a really awesome period in my life.

Well, if Francis counted as a youth (which he definitely did), I’m sure you do too.

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God bless!

Many thanks to Ignatius for his contribution to Agnellus’ Mirror, and to Christina also.

Do visit https://asalittlechild.wordpress.com/  and maybe share a word or ‘Comment’ with him.

PS Until I can claim to be an elder with a degree of modest wisdom, at least I have learnt, Festina Lente! Which being translated means, Make haste slowly, or ‘Slow burn!’

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14 April: Feeling the Fire: II

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Door of Mercy, Krakow

My reply touched on Ignatius’s account of his pilgrimage to the World Youth Day Pilgrimage to Krakow. We were in the vicinity; we saw Pope Francis’s helicopter and met many pilgrims as we walked through the mountains around Zakopane, a couple of hours from Krakow. But as a greybeard, I felt disqualified for WYD!

Good Evening Ignatius!

I don’t want to disagree with all you say, but there’s a need to be gentle when we observe people. Not everyone is cold inside, however they seem. There is fire and fire. Various friends, myself included, burnt out in younger days, not listening when our bodies and minds needed to rest. People could no longer depend on us, but our places were filled by others, and sometimes checks and balances were introduced to make sure burnout would not happen to them.

Parenting, too, really needs a slow burn, the ability to get up at 3.00 a.m. – yet again – to change a nappy, and such mundane jobs continue for years, for some parents without respite. And children may find themselves reciprocating when parents are frail, again, perhaps for years on end. Slow burn where burn out would not be helpful. But slow burn is not always visible. It’s not the same thing as lukewarm.

Fire gives heat and light: if someone makes you feel warmth or enlightens you – even to the glow of one little LED bulb, there is some fire there, surely. Look how the candles shine from within the Cathedral in the picture above.

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Maybe the best way to bring fire to the earth is to feed the fire that is already there. An email to a friend or grandparent tells them they are loved, even without using the word. And who or what lights your fire? What light shines on your path? What of the highs of your visit to Krakow for World Youth Day? Where does that experience point you? I hope it is more than a misty memory. I guess as a greybeard I’m too ancient to count as youth, though I did manage the mountain paths around Zakopane – at a slower pace than you youngsters!

Do not be tempted to despair, but try to get alongside people and what enlightens or warms them.

Not that I am inspired by every homily that enters my ears!

WT

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April 13: Feeling the Fire: I

We don’t follow many blogs, but Ignatius’s As a Little Child is one I am always glad to see and occasionally reply to. He put this out a few weeks ago, and has graciously allowed me to use it – and my reply – here. Over to Ignatius; a response tomorrow.

Can I honestly say, that when I look at myself or at my Church, locally or universally, that I recognise followers of Jesus, the Body of Christ, or the Kingdom of Heaven?

‘I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!’ [Lk12:49]

Where is this fire?!

I don’t see it in my life. And I rarely hear it in homilies. And I hardly see it in the Church. I start to wonder if we’ve forgotten Jesus.

There are saints amongst us, though. There are holy bishops and priests and religious and lay people, living the gospel. There are orders, and movements and organisations and just people. There are many people out there who sacrifice themselves with Jesus, living the reckless, radical love of the Father.

I just wish it were the rule. I wish that I heard this fire in every homily, and saw it in every Church activity. I wish that we were obviously so much more than a club, or an NGO. I wish that this fire was burning in all my flesh, down to the marrow. But I’ve read that all that’s needed to become a saint, is to will it. God wills it already; we just need to co-operate, accept His grace, obey His gospel.

And the truth is, there’s no real life apart from Jesus’ life. It’s a choice between life and — far worse than death– not-life. I could perhaps call it half-life, but I think not-life better captures the emptiness I’m thinking of. Or being “lukewarm”. 

 

I hope I’m not alone in feeling this way. Please pray with me, that we will together be set on Jesus-fire.

 

 

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12 April: A response to Christina Chase’s An Eve in Winter.

 

Dear Christina,

It’s an editor’s privilege to respond or comment on contributions sometimes: bear with me!

Your poem connects. It reminds me of  John Betjeman, writing in prose:

“Many people, when they enter a quiet room, automatically – even before shutting the door – rush to turn on the wireless as though quiet were as unhealthy as a cold draught.”

And there is Dylan Thomas’s ‘Bible-black night’ in Under Milk Wood, which is a time of creation, as is the dark you reference in Genesis. ‘Let there be light’ indeed, ‘Kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom, Lead thou me on.’ (Newman, of course.)

Your light that is poor for hearing secrets is from the same well as Shakespeare’s,

The eye
of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not
seen, hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was.

(Midsummer Night’s Dream, IV:2).

These lines are not slap-stick comic, however slap-stick Bottom is elsewhere. When we are challenged, do we admit it and explore it, or turn on the bright lights or loud music?

A lighthouse cannot lead if the captain is dazzled by floodlights.

I mentioned R.S. Thomas in my introduction. We read how he prayed at his holy well on 17 October 2016:

 Ignoring my image I peer down

to the quiet roots of it, where

the coins lie, the tarnished offerings

of the people to the pure spirit

that lives there.

 

Connections! Thank you again, for an offering by no means tarnished!

Will.

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