‘Come by’, said the shepherd to his dog, who immediately ran around the flock to drive them down Pen-y-Fan in Wales. Pony and collie, faithful helpers for the shepherd; I’m sorry the dog was camera-shy, but he was busily following the call of his star, the shepherd, and too well-trained to be distracted by admiring tourists.
Am I shepherd, pony, collie or sheep this Christmas Day minus two? Perhaps a bit of each, today and the following holidays. A shepherd has to be out in all weathers, wearing sensible clothes, well organised, tools and supplies of medicines in the saddlebags, plus food for himself and the collie, oats for the pony.
The dog knows his commands and obeys them; come by! He (or she) enjoys the work, enjoys knowing that the master is happy with his efforts. He is happy to serve his good master.
The sure-footed pony gets to places a quad bike could not, and has her own relationship with the master. Even in the murky light that wintry afternoon it was clear that she moved as one with him. She is well-groomed, loved and looked after beyond the bare necessities. Like the dog, she has the stamina to be working out on the hill all day.
As for the sheep, they are social animals, but need to be organised by someone. We humans cannot live as social beings without being organised by someone else much of the time. So let’s all pull together with the chores, allow ourselves to enjoy the duties,
for the culminating pleasure, which we treasure beyond measure, is the sense of satisfaction that our duty has been done! The Gondoliers, W.S. Gilbert.
Let's pray that we may take our turns to be sheep, shepherd, pony or collie. And let's not forget to take the dog for a walk if you have one. We will be joined by two of them: welcome Nala and Harvey!
We pray for the Holy Father;
as he fulfils his mission,
may he continue to accompany the flock entrusted to him,
with the help of the Holy Spirit.
I’m writing before the Synod happens, let alone the discussions and (dis)agreements it will have given rise to. May the Holy Spirit inspire each one of us to stay close to each other and to our Shepherd. May we be ready to listen to what the Spirit is saying to the Church through our sisters and brothers as we enter the next stage of the Synod.
Come Holy Spirit,
fill the hearts of your faithful
and kindle in us
the fire of your love!
After an early morning start Samuel Pepys, his wife and friends have a Sunday outing to Epsom, where he took the waters of the spa; his companions did not. They still had a very full day, returning in their coach after dark.
I talked with the two women that farm the well at 12l. per annum of the lord of the manor. Mr. Evelyn with his lady, and also my Lord George Barkeley’s lady and their fine daughter, that the King of France liked so well, and did dance so rich in jewells before the King at the Ball I was at at our Court last winter, and also their son, a Knight of the Bath, were at church this morning.
I walked upon the Downes, where a flock of sheep was; and the most pleasant and innocent sight that ever I saw in my life. We found a shepherd and his little boy reading, far from any houses or sight of people, the Bible to him; and we took notice of his wooling knit stockings, of two colours mixed.
Mrs Turner mightily pleased with my resolution, which, I tell her, is never to keep a country-house, but to keep a coach and with my wife on the Saturday to go sometimes for a day to this place, and then quit to another place; and there is more variety and as little charge, and no trouble, as there is in a country-house.
from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, 14 July 1667.
The Pepyses would enjoy getting about in this cherished VW camper van! It wouldn’t be so good for the tall Mr Turnstone, but there is plenty of variety in the range of holiday homes available today; we still don’t need a country house of our own.
We do need a home to go to! Not just the one behind our own front door but also at the end of our pilgrims’ progress through life.
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and of Thy wisdom there is no end. And man, being a part of Thy creation, desires to praise Thee, man, who bears about with him his mortality, the witness of his sin, even the witness that Thou “resistest the proud, “ – yet man, this part of Thy creation, desires to praise Thee. Thou movest us to delight in praising Thee; for Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee.
Mary Mother from Hales Place Jesuit Chapel, Canterbury
A Carol by Christina Rossetti
Lo! newborn Jesus, Soft and weak and small, Wrapped in baby’s bands By His Mother’s hands, Lord God of all.
Lord God of Mary, Whom His Lips caress While He rocks to rest On her milky breast In helplessness.
Lord God of shepherds Flocking through the cold, Flocking through the dark To the only Ark, The only Fold.
Lord God of all things, Be they near or far, Be they high or low; Lord of storm and snow, Angel and star.
Lord God of all men,– My Lord and my God! Thou who lovest me, Keep me close to Thee By staff and rod.
Lo! newborn Jesus, Loving great and small, Love’s free Sacrifice, Opening Arms and Eyes To one and all.
It’s May but we have not celebrated Mary yet, except in the company of her husband, Joseph. We have also been neglecting poetry, so let’s turn to Christina Rossetti. Childless herself, she captures the sensuous intimacy of the helpless baby, caressing his mother with his kisses. As a baby he opens his eyes and hands to the one he can see clearly; As Saviour he will look with love on each of us; as Good Shepherd he will gather the lost sheep into his arms.
May we follow him, even through the valley of darkness, into the fold that he has made ready for us.
Stop there for a moment! Look at what’s in front of you. This is the quire or choir altar in Canterbury Cathedral.
It’s decked in purple, code for repentance and waiting. We’ve been waiting for Christmas, we’ve been repenting, trying to change our ways to be ready to meet Jesus.
There are four Greek letters, embroidered in gold. Gold for a King. It was one of the gifts brought by the wise men.
Ά and ω are the first and last letters in the Greek alphabet. Code for Jesus is before all and comes after all.
The two other letters, ϗ and ρ, or Chi and Ro tend to get mixed together in different geometrical ways. This is because they represent the first two letters of Kristos, Greek for Christ. Artistic licence turns the chi into different shaped crosses, to represent the Cross of Christ.
(Sometimes we see ICXC, where the ‘I’ is a Greek ‘J’; ‘C’, is ‘S’; ‘X’ is ‘K’ or ‘Ch’; the early Christians liked this sort of code)
So the altar frontal tells us to wait for Jesus the king, the first and last.
On the altar are a crucifix and candles. Christ, risen from death, is the light of the world.
and there is a Christmas tree. Remember how God called to Moses from the burning bush? You stand on Holy Ground, Moses was told. And so do we.
At the back, behind the altar, is the chair of Saint Augustine on which Archbishops are seated on their appointment. We stand on Holy Ground. The chair is code for the Communion of Saints, the faith handed down by the shepherds since 597 when Augustine came to Canterbury.
So, call it praying or thinking or day-dreaming, I had a few good minutes in the Cathedral that morning!
Fr Hilary Costello of Mount Saint Bernard’s Abbey was a long-standing family friend. These lines are from a poem he shared with my mother that turned up among her papers when she died. The poem seems to veer from one speaker to another, one hearer to another. Here is God talking to the reader, or the writer to God? either makes sense. They also reinforce the idea of enjoying being a Christian. The shepherds and the Magi surely had fun in the searching; so, too, let us go unto Bethlehem!
So much did the fervour of devotion increase in Saint Francis that he altogether transformed himself into Jesus through love and pity.
He saw, coming from heaven, a Seraph, with six wings resplendent and ablaze; He bore the likeness to a crucified Man; two wings extended above His head, two were spread out to fly, and the other two covered all His body. Saint Francis was sore afraid, and, at the same time, was filled with joy and grief and wonder. He had passing great joy of the gracious aspect of Christ, who appeared to him so familiarly and regarded him so kindly; but, on the other hand, seeing Him crucified upon the cross, he felt immeasurable grief for pity’s sake. Next, he marvelled much at so strange and stupendous a vision, knowing well that the infirmity of suffering agreeth not with the immortality of the seraphic spirit. And, while he thus marvelled, it was revealed unto him by Him who appeared to him: that that vision had been shown unto him in that form, by the Divine providence, to the end that he might understand that, not by corporal suffering but by enkindling of the mind, he must be altogether transformed into the express image of Christ crucified, in that marvellous vision.
Then all the mountain of Alvernia seemed to burn with brightest flame, which shone forth and lighted up all the mountains and the valleys round about, even as if the sun had risen upon the earth; wherefore the shepherds, who kept watch in those regions, beholding the mountain all on fire and so great a light round about it, were very much afraid, according as they afterward related to the friars, declaring that that flame continued upon the mountain of Alvernia for the space of an hour or more. In like manner, by reason of the brightness of this light, which shone through the windows into the hostelries of the countryside, certain muleteers, who were journeying into Romagna, rose up, believing that the sun had risen, and saddled and loaded their beasts; and, as they went upon their way, they beheld the said light die out, and the material sun arise.
In the said seraphic vision, Christ, who appeared to Saint Francis, spake unto him certain high and secret things, the which Saint Francis was never willing to reveal to any one during his life; but, after his death, he revealed it, even as is set forth below; and the words were these: “Knowest thou,” said Christ, “that which I have done unto thee? I have given thee the stigmata, which are the tokens of My Passion, so that thou mayest be My standard-bearer. And even as I, on the day of My death, descended into Limbo, and, in virtue of these My stigmata, drew out thence all the souls which I found there; so to thee do I grant that, every year on the day of thy death, thou shalt go to purgatory, and in virtue of thy stigmata, shalt draw out thence all the souls of thy three Orders, to wit minors, sisters and continents, and also those others who have borne great devotion unto thee, and shalt lead them unto the glory of paradise, to the end that thou mayest be conformed to Me in death as thou art in life.”
Now when, after long and secret converse, this marvellous vision vanished away, it left an exceeding ardour and flame of Divine love in the heart of St. Francis, and in his flesh a marvellous image and imprint of the Passion of Christ.
With all the light pollution caused by modern fear of the dark, nobody would notice the coming of Christ on the mountain! But we should all bear in mind the words ‘not by corporal suffering but by enkindling of the mind, [we] must be altogether transformed into the express image of Christ crucified.’
Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love.
Here is another posting by Eddie Gilmore of London’s Irish Chaplaincy. I’ve just shared a paragraph from the middle, but the whole article, and the links he provides, are worth your perusal. Eddie writes as a musician, so his thoughts on angels and other intelligent beings’ singing are most interesting.
We are told that angels sang at the birth of Christ. Who were those celestial beings that sang at an event that was never going to be on the front page of the Bethlehem Gazette? Whoever they were, I’ll bet they laid down a good tune, with some sublime harmonies and with no one angel hogging the limelight. And what about their unusual audience that starry night? Shepherds, who were outcasts in their community because staying out in the fields at all hours meant that they were unable to observe the normal rituals of the Jewish faith, and who might as well have been a bit tipsy, since they were known to have a little toddy to keep themselves warm. And then those three mysterious characters who had followed a star and who arrived with gifts that the mother of a newly-born wouldn’t exactly find that practical!
I have to say, though, I thought the wise men’s gifts had their uses. Gold would have got the Family to Egypt and bought new tools for Joseph. Frankincense might have sweetened the air of the stable, myrrh helped look after Baby Jesus’ skin, especially in the nappy area. At least, so I used to tell the children!
Another poem from Father Andrew. We won’t be able to press through the church doors this year, but still, every soul should be a shrine for God’s Eternal Son. We can all light a candle upon the altar that is our family dining table.
‘Come along, shepherds,’ the Angels cried, ‘Come along, every one! For great things happen on earth to-night, And you shall see a wondrous sight – In bed of straw, on napkin white, Come down to earth from heaven’s height God’s own Eternal Son.’
‘Come along, comrades,’ the Shepherds cried, And quick those men did run, And in they pressed through the humble door, And low they knelt on the stable floor, Where Mary and Joseph, as poor as poor, In rich contentment did adore God’s own Eternal Son.
‘Come along, Christians,’ the bells ring out, ‘Ding-a-dong, come along, come along!’ For round the Altar tapers shine, Where waits our Saviour, yours and mine, Veiled ‘neath the mystic Bread and Wine, And every soul should be a shrine For God’s Eternal Son.
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