Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief:— We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf.
Consider The sparrows of the air of small account: Our God doth view Whether they fall or mount,— He guards us too.
Consider The lilies that do neither spin nor toil, Yet are most fair:— What profits all this care And all this coil?
Consider The birds that have no barn nor harvest-weeks; God gives them food:— Much more our Father seeks To do us good.
This poem is full of trust! Let us take confidence from the Easter event and rejoice in the care Our Father has for us, in time and eternity. Let us spread that joy, day by day.
This month saw the first celebrations of fifty years of the L’Arche Kent community where people with and without learning disabilities live and work, pray, play and celebrate together. It is appropriate that this anniversary should fall in Christian Unity Week, as the community was ecumenical from the very beginning, and has welcomed people from Jewish, Muslim and secular backgrounds who sign up to the values L’Arche proclaims and lives out. Our first date was a zoom call uniting past and present members across Britain, Europe and Canada. It was good to see old friends looking well and happy.
Then we gathered in Canterbury Cathedral to mark those 5 decades of growth and development, with members from each decade bringing symbols of the gifts the community received or nurtured in their time. The challenges of the pandemic period were noted. Core members were not allowed out, assistants had to comply with rules for staff of care homes, wearing masks on duty and not allowed to eat with core members.
This second photograph shows the congregation waving their flags in response to John Casson, the National Leader, who called for a ‘Joyful Rebellion’. Joyful because we have joy in our hearts as friends and community members, our Rebellion being against a system and mindset which treats people with learning disabilities as second-class citizens and a burden on society.
That joyful rebellion will remain part of L’Arche all through this year and into the future, whatever that may hold. Find out more by following the links below.
The tree of life my soul hath seen, Laden with fruit and always green; The trees of nature fruitless be, Compared with Christ the Apple Tree.
His beauty doth all things excel, By faith I know but ne’er can tell The glory which I now can see, In Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.
For happiness I long have sought, And pleasure dearly I have bought; I missed of all but now I see ‘Tis found in Christ the Apple Tree.
I’m weary with my former toil – Here I will sit and rest awhile, Under the shadow I will be, Of Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.
With great delight I’ll make my stay, There’s none shall fright my soul away; Among the sons of men I see There’s none like Christ the Apple Tree.
I’ll sit and eat this fruit divine, It cheers my heart like spirit’al wine; And now this fruit is sweet to me, That grows on Christ the Apple Tree.
This fruit doth make my soul to thrive, It keeps my dying faith alive; Which makes my soul in haste to be With Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.
This traditional carol looks way back to the Fall and that fruit picked by Eve, and eaten by her and Adam. The red one, centre right, was sweet and juicy when I picked it in the No Man’s Orchard in October. The first picture shows this tree from a distance; it would offer some shade in summertime before all those windfalls dropped down. The second tree is a John Downey crab in full bloom; it lightens up our garden in Spring.
Christ the Apple Tree is the Tree of Life: he lived his life and death to perfection and calls us to follow him, which does not mean forgoing a bite of the fruit, nor a rest in the shade: With great delight I’ll make my stay, and take and eat, for this fruit is sweet to me!
Deputy Director of the Catholic Union, James Somerville-Meikle, writes:
The haters will hate, but by any metric the global gathering of Catholics at World Youth Day in Lisbon last week was a great success. In many ways it showed the Church at its best – joyful, vibrant, and universal. Over 1.5 million people had travelled to Portugal for the event, including myself. The sight of so many young Catholics in one place was truly inspiring. While everyone who took part will have benefitted in some way, it was particularly powerful for pilgrims from countries where the Catholic faith is in the minority. Amongst the hordes of Spanish, Italian, and French flags, there were some from Lebanon, Jordan and even one from China. The group I was with did our bit to boost the number of British flags present. It made me wonder if such a gathering could ever take place on British soil. The UK is the only G7 nation apart from Japan not to have hosted a World Youth Day. It would be huge boost to the Church in this country if it were to be staged here. In the meantime, the British pilgrims who have returned from Lisbon will hopefully have greater confidence in their faith and share something of the joy we encountered.
Holy Water font, Holy Name Church, Manchester, England.
Happy Feast Day! It may seem odd to share an Advent Pastoral Letter for Corpus Christi but Bishop of Trondheim, Erik Varden, was exploring the Eucharist back in December 2022, and I know I want to read his letter again. This is the opening paragraph. ‘Now I am Joyful’ is a good philosophy for life!
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
The third Sunday of Advent is called Gaudete Sunday after the words of the introit: ‘Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice.’ But can anyone order us to rejoice? Isn’t joy a feeling outside my authority? I long thought it was so. Then I realised I was wrong. A wise nun taught me that. She was, like me at the time, responsible for the liturgy in her monastery. To lead seven services a day is demanding. There are so many other things to be done! At times one is distracted; at times one is sad, exhausted, or irritable; one doesn’t feel like praying.
Yet the bells ring
regardless,
no matter how I feel.
What the nun taught me is that my moods are conditioned by my free agency. Often, I can do something about them. She told me of a strategy she had worked out: ‘When I stand at the church door’, she said, ‘and dip my fingers in holy water to make the sign of the cross, I say to myself: Now I am joyful!’ She consciously left behind whatever weighed her down or saddened her.
In Jesus’s name she put on joy as if it were a cloak. Then she entered the house of God, free and attentive. I can testify that the strategy works. We can call it an asceticism of joy: exercise in the art of laying aside what impedes the joy for which God has created us.
You can find the letter in PDF here, in Norwegian, English, and Polish.
HereBishop Erik Varden is discussing Humility Follow the link for his whole piece.
I wanted to share this section of it after yesterday’s visit to Korea and the ladies with Down’s syndrome who attended Mass by down-streaming. They still expressed their faith and devotion, most eloquently at Communion time.
What is a Down’s person worth in your view?
Some years ago I had the privilege of singing in a production of Handel’s Messiah. An alto in the choir had a son with Down’s, called Felix. Felix came to every rehearsal. Standing behind the conductor, he co-conducted vigorously. When the music was sad, he wept. When it was joyful, he was radiant. After the performance, he gave a noble speech to the choir, whom he addressed as his friends. I dare say each of us thereby felt ennobled.
I got to know Felix only slightly. Still I can say: he impressed me, taught me important lessons. The thought of Felix (whose name means ‘happy’) gives me joy. There are countries now, in the Western world, that no longer register any births of children with Down’s. This is presented as scientific progress. The Felixes of this world are unwanted, deemed encumbrances. Euthanasia, likewise, is spreading from country to country, advertised as a human right. Yet wherever euthanasia is available as choice, involuntary euthanasia is soon being practised. Underneath a surface of what can seem like impenetrable bureaucratic discourse, an existential combat is taking place.
Faced with such sinister developments, we have work to do. The pursuit of humility is not just a matter of devotion; it is about upholding the dignity of all human life, recognising ourselves among the weak and outcast, standing up for table fellowship. To be humble on these terms is not to be meek and mild; it requires courage, strength, and perseverance in the face of hostile opposition. We are to rise to this summons, strengthened by the food of immortality. May we not be found unworthy of Christ’s example and sacrifice.
Santa Maria degli Angeli was, of course, not the great basilica that greets the pilgrim today, but a little chapel.
Francis and his companions continued their journey and came to Santa Maria degli Angeli; and, when they were nigh thereunto, Friar Leo lifted up his eyes and looked toward the said Place of Santa Maria degli Angeli, and saw an exceeding beautiful Cross, whereon was the figure of the Crucified, going before Saint Francis, even as Saint Francis was going before Him; and on such wise did the said Cross go before the face of Saint Francis that when he stopped it stopped too, and when he went on it went on; and that Cross was of such brightness that, not only did it shine in the face of Saint Francis, but all the road about him also was lighted up; and it lasted until Saint Francis entered into the Place of Santa Maria degli Angeli.
Saint Francis, then, having arrived with Friar Leo, they were welcomed by the friars with very great joy and charity. And from thenceforward, until his death, Saint Francis dwelt for the greater part of his time in that Place of Santa Maria degli Angeli. And the fame of his sanctity and of his miracles spread continually more and more through the Order and through the world, although, by reason of his profound humility, he concealed as much as he might the gifts and graces of God, and ever called himself the greatest of sinners.
I can recall my heart leaping when we drove through an area of the Scottish borders where I had spent a year as a teenager. That visitation was unplanned and quite unexpected, our route had been determined by the morning traffic in Edinburgh. Wordsworth came to his old haunts, distressed with a burden of sad anticipation. But he like me, was surprised by joy.
It had not been the happiest year of my life but it was in the beautiful Tweed Valley, beauty that resonated with my adult self decades later, all unexpectedly. A moment to be grateful for. Now here’s Wordsworth.
“Beloved Vale!” I said, “when I shall con Those many records of my childish years, Remembrance of myself and of my peers Will press me down: to think of what is gone Will be an awful thought, if life have one.” But, when into the Vale I came, no fears Distress’d me; I look’d round, I shed no tears; Deep thought, or awful vision, I had none. By thousand petty fancies I was cross’d, To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall, Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small. A Juggler’s Balls old Time about him toss’d; I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all The weight of sadness was in wonder lost. From “Poems in Two Volumes, Volume 1” by William Wordsworth)
The night was far advanced. I closed the book with a bang and flung it on the table. Then I blew out the lamp with the idea of turning into bed. No sooner had I done so than, through the open windows, the moonlight burst into the room, with a shock of surprise. That little bit of a lamp had been sneering drily at me, like some Mephistopheles: and that tiniest sneer had screened off this infinite light of joy issuing forth from the deep love which is in all the world.
What, forsooth, had I been looking for in the empty wordiness of the book? There was the very thing itself, filling the skies, silently waiting for me outside, all these hours! If I had gone off to bed leaving the shutters closed, and thus missed this vision, it would have stayed there all the same without any protest against the mocking lamp inside.
Even if I had remained blind to it all my life,—letting the lamp triumph to the end,—till for the last time I went darkling to bed,—even then the moon would have still been there, sweetly smiling, unperturbed and unobtrusive, waiting for me as she has throughout the ages.
From Glimpses of Bengal Selected from the Letters of Sir Rabindranath Tagore
And we conceal the stars and dim the moon with our wasteful lighting of homes, workplaces and streets. Once again Tagore’s reflections chime in with my Christian sensibilities. I was first introduced to him by my mother, who heard of him from a Cistercian monk.
Caroline B. Piercy’s mother was a frequent visitor to a Shaker Community, back in the 19th Century. There she learnt many of the recipes in her daughter’s The Shaker Cook Book. But what attracted people to these celibate communities, and what kept them there? An interesting question a semi-detached member of a L’Arche community.
I would rule out celibacy as an over-riding motive for joining a community: many L’Arche members do remain celibate, but like many couples Mrs T and I met at L’Arche more than 40 years ago. We feel part of the family even though our lives are lived largely outside the community.
We come closer to answering our question when we read how, ‘These devout Shakers love one another as brothers and sisters. They have withdrawn from the world in order to establish villages where the Golden Rule is the one law by which they live. When their many tasks are completed, daily they gather at their meetings where they dance before the Lord for pure joy and gratitude for the countless good gifts He has bestowed upon His children and, also, in order to drive away any wrong thoughts or desires which may come to them.’
A good session of dancing might do more good than a couple of hours slumped in front of the television, but could the shakers have schooled my toes into something approaching co-ordination? Somehow I very much doubt it.
Celibacy, voluntary or involuntary, lifelong or temporary, enables a person to be available to others and to God, their Creator, in ways that married people cannot always manage. Rightly, the spouse puts their other half and their family above other obligations, and may have to say ‘no’ to interesting opportunities. That is one way to make the earth holy. Cheerfully accepted and faithfully lived celibacy gives different freedoms and different crosses, and it too makes the world holy by living out the Golden Rule.
Let’s thank the Lord for the contribution of faithful brothers and sisters living the celibate way in community or as singles, and pray that they may be happy and fruitful in their way of life, their following of Jesus’ footsteps.
agnellusmirror 