When I went to the Cathedral yesterday I found myself in the nave rather than the crypt. It was still early in the day; the guides and welcomers were just arriving, tidying up their desks and welcoming each other. There were the usual builders’ noises, and someone testing organ pipes: in short, there was the usual silence!
I had time to sit by the font and contemplate the installation ‘Suspended’. The garments hanging above the congregation came from refugees on the Isle of Lesbos or the camps around Calais; clothes they were glad to discard when they were offered a clean change. I hope they found something they liked to wear! Their lives have been suspended between their old homes, destroyed or stolen, and who knows what future.
There the clothes hang, reminding us that these refugees are sisters and brothers of ours, thrown on very hard times, as were others – including perhaps their grandparents – seventy years ago when Pope Pius XII wrote the words we read here yesterday.
Let us follow his call, and pray for peace, and support those who support the refugees.
Is a beach, a forest, a flower beautiful when nobody is looking at it? I remember such questions being laid before us at school to get us to think.
The answer can be many layered, from ‘of course it is always beautiful’ to ‘God sees it, and everything he made is good’, to ‘We must train our eyes to see just as we must train our brains to think.’
When I first got to know the Mermaid rose it was in a pot in the garden centre, but just asking to be grown against our house wall. It is happy there, despite its being a dry spot; so happy I had to prune it quite heavily last autumn before it scratched too many passers-by. Mermaid has vicious thorns!
So the blossom is a little late this year, but plentiful. However, there is another beauty to be seen: the shoots of new growth where the bush wants to regain lost territory. What a beautiful red, but it will last no more than a few days.
The answer to the question?
Laudato Si’ !
The selection of Matthias as a replacement disciple for Judas has reminded me of a time when I studied acting at a wonderful acting school in Brighton. We would play various games to get inside the heart of a character. One of these involved wearing someone else’s shoes.
We would remove our shoes, put them in a circle and then walk around them to some music. When the music stopped, we put on the shoes. I did not know whose shoes I had to wear and when I put them on they felt like floppy boats.
Once in the spotlight I had to walk about in these alien shoes, to speak and to gesture. I became another person by dint of these shoes. The shape and feel of them influenced my speech and actions. I walked in a slightly comical way, like a clown. I became more relaxed and kindly. I felt a humility I had not experienced before and as I responded to questions I spoke in a gentler fashion. I realised very soon whose shoes I was wearing. They belonged to a good natured young man from Sweden called Adam. I knew deeply within my physical self now, how it was to be Adam.
How often do we think things about others and challenge our thinking by comparing it to the reality? If our thinking is skewed, our interpretation about others is also skewed. If it is benevolent then our thinking is benevolent. Yet neither of these options may resemble the absolute truth about the other. The interpretation is all a construct our own mind.
Wearing someone else’s shoes metaphorically means truly taking on and being present in who they really are and not how we think them to be. Is this why peace is often so hard to establish?
I suggest we ask our world leaders to swap shoes with each other and walk about in them for a while…. though the idea of President Trump in Theresa May’s long shiny over the knee boots is a little troubling!
Image from http://www.swordofthespirit.net/bulwark/april2013p3.htm
Easter Sunday Morning Year A
John 20: 1-9
‘…linen cloths on the ground.’
When a person has conquered the fear of death, there is nothing left to fear in life. He/she has complete freedom of soul and peace of mind. Fear and death both come into the world in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve, feeling shame for the first time, cover their bodies and hide from the Lord.
In the garden of the Resurrection, Jesus, having conquered death and fear, leaves his covering behind in the tomb and comes out into the open, fearless and naked as a new-born human.
St. Francis intuits what it means to be freed from fear by Christ’s Resurrection. When he comes out of hiding from his earthly father and openly claims his Father in heaven, he also sheds all his clothes, facing his new life with the fearless innocence Christ has won for him. Now that he can even look on death as a sister and a blessing, he no longer finds any enemies in God’s creation – only sisters and brothers.
Father, may we, in union with Christ, be unbound from all our fears and claim our true created nature in the power of his Resurrection. Amen.