Tag Archives: War

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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10 April: More vital than cake …

These days, I guess most of us think of an indulgence as something we can enjoy but do not really need. Like a slice of cake with your cup of tea. That’s a simnel cake, a sort of  English Easter version of the German stollen.  A daffodil for the risen Lord and eleven dots for the more-or-less-faithful  Apostles.

We know that there were no recriminations from Him in those weeks after Easter. They were forgiven. Full stop.

 

upperroom tomdog

So how the situation arose where people were selling indulgences, and many more people buying them, is hard to comprehend, except that if you were led to believe that paying down a week’s wages would secure your place in Heaven, well, What price would you pay?

That was an Indulgence in mediaeval times. Follow the link to an interesting article about an Indulgence on show in Manchester. And What price would you pay?

As our contributor Tom points out, you would readily pay a week’s wages for eternal salvation.

Here then is a connection to yesterday’s post, both about wartime, but this is a story of the aftermath of the Second World War.

The same day as I read this article I was in the Archive in Westminster diocese and found a 1947 exchange of letters between Miss Winifred Callaghan, head teacher of English Martyrs’ School in York and Cardinal Griffin in Westminster.

She writes:

Most Reverend Father,

Kindly accept the enclosed £1 as a small donation to your ‘Children of Europe’ fund, from the children and some of the staff of the above school.

We would have made it more but many local calls kept us collecting. But on Friday we had a quick whip round with ‘your’ box, as we call it, and £1 resulted.

We ask your blessing and a prayer for us all please. May God bless you dear Father, from the children and teachers.

And not an indulgence in sight.

How blest the children of York, to have had such a head teacher! The generosity of many people, rich and poor, can be traced in the correspondence. They were supporting Germans, as well as Poles, Hungarians, Yugoslavians, Estonians: people exiled from their homes across Europe, Germans stranded in the New Poland, many people who could not go home to what were now Communist countries.

Forgiveness freely given towards former enemies, and plain Christian charity.

And not an indulgence in sight.

MB. TJH.

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9 April: Killed in action.

entering woods.jpg

Edward Thomas died in battle on this day in 1917. He came late to poetry, as did W.H. Davies, who wrote this tribute to his friend. They were great walkers through the countryside, like these friends from L’Arche Kent. May we all walk in peace!

Happy the man whose home is still
In Nature’s green and peaceful ways;
To wake and hear the birds so loud,
That scream for joy to see the sun
Is shouldering past a sullen cloud.

And we have known those days, when we
Would wait to hear the cuckoo first;
When you and I, with thoughtful mind,
Would help a bird to hide her nest,
For fear of other hands less kind.

But thou, my friend, art lying dead:
War, with its hell-born childishness,
Has claimed thy life, with many more:
The man that loved this England well,
And never left it once before.

MMB.

 

 

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21 March: Stations of the Cross, IV: Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry his Cross.

carvingwomanchich

FOURTH STATION
SIMON OF CYRENE HELPS JESUS TO CARRY HIS CROSS

Our witness is a woman from Lebanon, who asked Jesus to cure her little daughter. Her story is told by Saint Mark, in Chapter 7, vv 24-30


I know this man. Jesus knew I was a foreigner when I asked him to cure my little girl. He teased me, but he helped me, he sent me away happy.

The soldiers didn’t tease him. They bullied him. They bully that Libyan man Simon too,
and make him help Jesus to carry his cross.


Prayer :

Lord, forgive us when we bully each other. Help us to see when we are being unfair. Help us to carry each others loads.

We pray for the people of Libya, suffering on the sad road of civil war.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Chichester Cathedral

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17 March. SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT: CLEAN WATER AND SANITATION

aberdaron jug

Saint Patrick, whose feast falls today, left a few holy wells around Ireland, and so would surely approve of this article from USPG’s Praying with the World Church. Surely every well is a Holy Well? R.S. Thomas, sometime vicar of Aberdaron, would say so.

Myanmar: Article by San Lin, a development officer with the
Church of the Province of Myanmar.
For many years, the people of Wa Me Klar village, high in the
mountains, had to climb for three hours to reach the nearest
stream that provided clean drinking water. Often this was a job
for women and children, who would struggle to carry the heavy
buckets. But now the villagers’ lives have been transformed
because water pipes have been installed by the Church of
Myanmar. No-one has to climb and fetch water because water
comes to the village.
‘Now we can take a bath in our houses,’ a 60-year old
woman tells me. The village chief says: ‘I can grow vegetables
and raise goats inside my compound. Thank you very much!’
For decades, this village, in Hpa’an Diocese, was targeted by
the military. In the mid-70s, most of the houses were burned
and the people fled. But since peace negotiations in 2005, the
people have been returning home.
There are 30 households, with around 100 residents. Before
the water programme there were many cases of diarrhoea and
other illnesses. But now the people understand about sanitation.
When the church arrived in the village, they showed the
people how to lay pipes and build cisterns, and they worked
hard together to achieve their goal.

Water Jug from Aberdaron Anglican Church (Church in Wales)

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15 March: How Many out of Ten?

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Members of different L’Arche communities processing into Canterbury Cathedral to celebrate 50 years of L’Arche and 40 years of L’Arche in the UK.

Tony Gibbings  was a founder member of L’Arche Kent and is now leader of L’Arche in Ipswich. He has shared with us his reflection on L’Arche as seen by an Irish comedian, Tommy Tiernan. 

As Tony says, the writer speaks to the Irish context. So he has a few things wrong for the rest of us. In most of the world L’Arche is not just a “Catholic community”… and there is not “a chapel in every house”. We can pray around the shared table, or in the sitting room.

Tony writes:

This column (see link below) was handed to me by a friend. Apparently Tommy Tiernan is an Irish comedian and as foul-mouthed as they come these days. I, for one, do not find it easy that all real political resistance in our Western culture seems to only reside in the entertainment industry, rather than politicians or journalists. Recent news reports that some 30 0r 40 journalists have died in 2017 while reporting in war zones or because they exposed corruption or anti-government views shows the danger of challenging oppressive aspects of our world. Comedians sometimes seem to be the only remaining pockets of resistance, limited by being mere entertainers, but perhaps protected from being targeted themselves.

L’Arche was founded as a resistance and alternative to a society based on power-play. In this article Tommy Tiernan brings that dynamic vision to life and up-to-date for 2018. He has said in one of his other regular columns that “I like going to Mass – it’s all about the losers”. Touché. L’Arche’s prophetic message for the church is just that. We are not made more human by our strength or our success: We are made human by acknowledging our vulnerability and failures. We all need a bit of strength and success, but that is not what brings us into true relationship with ourselves, each other, or God. Community helps us to re-connect with our whole self – this is why those who taste L’Arche and the people at the heart of it cannot get away from the promise of authenticity that it holds out to us.

My prayer for 2018 is that all those with responsibility in the Church will grow in their understanding that what we need to see reflected in the Mass is the compassion of God, not what we have had in recent years – a distasteful attempt by the power-players in the Church to use the Mass to attempt to “correct” those who recognise that God is a God of relationship, not of power-play.

My other prayer is, ironically, for personal strength for each of us, in whatever form it is needed!
Best wishes for 2018.

Tony Gibbings,

Director/Community Leader
L’Arche Ipswich, 3 Warrington Road, Ipswich IP1 3QU
Tommy Tiernan 4 out of 10

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10 February: O is for Oswestry

Stoswaldaskingnyplspencer1f89r.jpgThe Empire builders drew a straight line in the sand dividing Syria and Iraq, and all those similarly ruled boundaries in Canada and Australia. Was anyone asked would they rather be in Manitoba or Saskatchewan? Thank God those boundaries cause little friction.

The Welsh border with England has very few straight bits, and the area around Oswestry is a case in point. On the map England seems to have taken a huge bite out of Wales, and place names in English and Welsh turn up on either side of the border. Maesbury is a mishmash of the two, and Welsh Frankton is definitely in England.

The New Saints Football Club play in the Welsh Premier League but have their ground in Oswestry, England, and so it goes on.

The Old Saint of Oswestry was King Oswald of Northumbria who died at Oswald’s Tree – or Oswestry – in the 7th Century, battling against the pagan Mercians and their Welsh allies – who of course were more than capable of going to war against Mercia when the fit was on them. Or of marrying across the border as seems to have happened more than once in my own family.

Let us be grateful for peaceful co-existence along the Marches of England and Wales and pray for peace along the many borders that divide rather than unite people in our world today.

Oswald from a Ms in New York Public Library:
File:Stoswaldaskingnyplspencer1f89r.jpg From Wikipedia

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25 January: Christians together: the four chaplains.

George L. Fox.png  Alexander D. Goode.png  Clark V. Poling.png  John P. Washington.png

The research which took me behind the garage door we saw the other day led me to George L. Fox, Alexander D. Goode, Clark V. Poling, and John P. Washington. They were American Army Chaplains in World War II. They were travelling together, accompanying troops on their way to battle, when their ship, SS Dorchester was sunk by enemy action on February 3, 1943.

The ship went down rapidly, but the chaplains worked together to organise their flock onto the lifeboats, making sure each had a life jacket. When the supply ran out the gave their own jackets to others. Then they linked arms, and together went down with the ship.

Circumstances, evil circumstances, led to their ecumenical witness. during Church Unity Week, and approaching the anniversary of the four chaplain, what is the Spirit asking of the Churches – of you and me – today?

MMB

Photos from Wikipedia

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24 January: Praying together.

 

Arthur Hinsley.jpg

 

At primary school before the Second Vatican Council, we learned, even if it was not expressly taught, that we should not pray with Protestants or non-Catholics. Yet the witness of the four chaplains was not a mere straw in the wind, but a sign of the Spirit at work.

In May 1941, no less a personage than the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, Arthur Hinsley, publicly led a mixed gathering of Christians, including Bishop George Bell of Chichester, in the Lord’s Prayer, when they heard the news of an air raid. His fellow bishops disapproved, but the Spirit was at work there too. Throughout the war, Christians worked and prayed together under difficult circumstances. Even then, the Spirit was at work.

May we all be one!

MMB

Arthur, Cardinal Hinsley, from Wikipedia.

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22 December, Christmas 1914. Father Andrew at Christmas, I. The ending of all wars …

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Here is a passage from Fr Andrew’s book, Carols and Christmas Rhymes, Mowbray, 1935.

We have been told that on Christmas Day in the Great War from rival trenches English, French, and German voices were united musically in Christmas hymns. That should have been the end of the war. It should be the ending of all wars, and all slum conditions, and all bad treatment of the childhood that the Christ-Child has blessed. With such practical intention these poor verses are laid in homage before the manger shrine of the Holy Child.

We will share more from the introduction as well as a few of Fr Andrew’s carols during the rest of Advent and Christmastide. Fr Andrew had a great devotion to the Eucharist, expressed in the title of this poem (O Godhead hid, devoutly I adore Thee) as well as its theme.

Adoro Te Devote Latens Deitas

Who could refuse the appeal
Of Baby hands stretched out caressingly,
Or patter of Baby feet upon the stair?
It was like Love to deal
So with us in His sweet humility,
To be a little Child amongst us here;
And at the last, when those same hands had borne
The scars of labour and the pierce of sin,
Faithful at eventide as in the morn
Of His first Coming, still to seek to win,
With bleeding hands held wide in mute appeal,
The acceptance of His own unchanging love.

This slum courtyard in Birmingham has been cleaned and tidied almost out of recognition. Imagine no running water, no sewerage,  thin walls, coal fires amid the industrial fumes, rats, mud, disease…

 

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