A traditional children’s hymn begins “Advent tells us Christ is near …”, and that is the clear message of the season we begin this weekend. Four weeks of preparation lead us into the annual observance of our Saviour’s birth, but also, as the daily Scriptural readings hammer home, we are given an annual reminder that we must keep the bigger picture in mind. The Christ who came first to us in human form at Bethlehem, and who continues that incarnation in the daily Bread of the Eucharist, will come again as the consummation of creation’s history. Of necessity, our lives are taken up by the day-to-day considerations, and it does us well in Advent (and Lent) to try to gain a little more perspective and to remind ourselves of our true context which has an eternal dimension. One suggestion put to the adults receiving instruction through the RICA is that they might get up ten minutes earlier than usual each Advent weekday so a bit more space for God is created. It is a suggestion that the rest of us might adopt with some benefit!
Please continue to pray for Bishop Longley as he prepares to leave this diocese for Birmingham. We have been richly blessed in having Bishop Bernard as our area bishop for the past seven years and we shall miss his warmth and joie de vivre. He commented recently that whereas none of the parishes for which he has had responsibility were further than ten miles from his house in Bow, now he finds that he has everything stretching between Leek and Oxford, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. The new Archbishop of Birmingham will be enthroned on Tuesday week – 8th December. We ought also to pray that the Holy Spirit will guide our own Archbishop as he deliberates about a successor to care for the parishes of central and eastern London. One piece of very welcome news is that Archbishop Nichols will be coming here to celebrate the First Mass of St James’s Day next year – at 6pm on Saturday 24th July. Because the Feast falls on a Sunday, 2010 has been declared a Holy Year at Compostela. Ought we to be thinking of a parish pilgrimage to visit our patron’s shrine?
Can I ask your advice? Catechesis is fundamental to Christian life. Not only do young people need formation at particular stages in their growth into Christ (First Confession, First Holy Communion, Confirmation) but every Christian has a duty to develop their understanding of the Faith so that it is commensurate with their age and experience. Catechesis is a lifetime’s exercise, and we shall still be learning on our deathbeds. Lent seems an appropriate season to attempt some organised teaching – perhaps a weekly evening session with a speaker, time for discussion and refreshments. It would help me to know what areas you think we might usefully address and then I can plan accordingly. With Father Irwin and Monsignor Jamieson joining us I had thought that we might look at the mission of the Catholic Church in different parts of the world - but there may well be others aspects of living the faith … dogmatic considerations, ethical issues …that you think more prescient (?).
One of the major ethical issues is, of course, the right to life of the unborn. Monsignor Philip Reilly, the founder of “The Helpers of the God’s Precious Infants” (which seeks by prayer and counselling to offer an alternative to abortion) is visiting London from the USA and will be addressing a meeting here at St James’s this Friday 4th December (beginning at 7.30pm). The event is being organised by the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal, and has the title “Reasons for Hope in the Epic Struggle for Life”. This is an open meeting to which everyone is welcome.
22.11.09
Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Universal King
Stalin once asked, derisively, how many divisions does the Pope command. When Jesus was asked by Pontius Pilate whether he was a king, his answer was enigmatic: “Mine is not a kingdom of this world”. So you are a king then? said Pilate, to which Jesus responded: "Yes, I am a king. I was born for this, I came into the world for this, to bear witness to the truth”.
Today, the last Sunday in the Christian Year, we sum up all that we have learned and celebrated through the past twelve months in this one title – Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Universal King. But, as with the dialogue between Jesus and Pilate, there is something enigmatic here, differing understandings of the same words. That Jesus is not a king in any conventional sense is all too painfully clear. If he were, then we would expect direct action to right the wrongs and injustices of the world, to usher in an immediate age of peace and good will. A knight in shining armour. Barack Obama writ even larger.
So what are we doing in calling Jesus a king? For the prophet Ezekiel when God reveals himself to his people it will be in the form, not of a prince, but of a shepherd. “I shall look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong”. When he does appear, Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd, and he underlines this ministerial understanding of his vocation when he kneels during the Last Supper to wash the feet of his disciples. Jesus is, in the words of the Apocalypse: “the first born from the dead, the Ruler of the kings of the earth” through whom everything that exists was made – his sovereignty is of the very essence of his own being – but the exercise of that natural kingship is through humility rather than power, through service rather than domination.
Jesus told Pilate that he had come into the world “to bear witness to the truth”, and once, famously, in teaching his disciples, he declared: “The kingdom of God is within you”. If we try to define Christ’s sovereignty in worldly terms we are destined to frustration – any human model of authority just does not work when applied to the Son of God – but if we understand God’s kingdom in the way that the Gospels define it, we see it as the gradual conversion of human hearts, from within – not a cosmic reality yet, but the grain of wheat falling into the ground, the mustard seed slowly taking root. The truth which Jesus offers Pilate is the potential for change within the heart of each individual. His call to conversion is so much more radical than anything envisaged by those seeking to build utopia on earth.
But if, for the moment, the reality of Christ’s Kingdom is hidden, not easily observable, underground, that does not mean this will always be the case. Very much the opposite. We are those who are committed to the new heaven and the new earth envisaged by Daniel: “I gazed into the visions of then night, and I saw, coming on the clouds of heaven, one like a son of man – on him was conferred sovereignty, glory and kingship and men of all peoples, nations and languages became his servants. His sovereignty is an eternal sovereignty which shall never pass away”.
We are looking towards a final moment of judgement when everything that is good and creative and positive and life-affirming will be seen for what it is – and when everything evil and destructive and negative and life denying is also seen for what it truly is. We believe that the Father has put all judgement into the hands of his Son, and that it is Jesus, alone, who has the power to say: “Come you whom my Father has blessed, take for your heritage the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world”.
Until that final Day of Judgement the kingdom will not be seen clearly, and right up to the very end the symbol of Christ’s kingship will be nothing more than a crown of thorns placed on the Man with the broken heart. That is why the celebration of Our Lord Jesus Christ as Universal King is a closely bound up with devotion to his Sacred Heart. “Everyone will see him, even those who pierced him”. Sovereignty through suffering – lordship through self-sacrifice – this is the mystery and the glory of our faith. It is a mystery which can only be fathomed by those who, like the Saviour himself, are the poor in spirit. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, theirs is the kingdom of heaven”.
Today, the last Sunday in the Christian Year, we sum up all that we have learned and celebrated through the past twelve months in this one title – Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Universal King. But, as with the dialogue between Jesus and Pilate, there is something enigmatic here, differing understandings of the same words. That Jesus is not a king in any conventional sense is all too painfully clear. If he were, then we would expect direct action to right the wrongs and injustices of the world, to usher in an immediate age of peace and good will. A knight in shining armour. Barack Obama writ even larger.
So what are we doing in calling Jesus a king? For the prophet Ezekiel when God reveals himself to his people it will be in the form, not of a prince, but of a shepherd. “I shall look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong”. When he does appear, Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd, and he underlines this ministerial understanding of his vocation when he kneels during the Last Supper to wash the feet of his disciples. Jesus is, in the words of the Apocalypse: “the first born from the dead, the Ruler of the kings of the earth” through whom everything that exists was made – his sovereignty is of the very essence of his own being – but the exercise of that natural kingship is through humility rather than power, through service rather than domination.
Jesus told Pilate that he had come into the world “to bear witness to the truth”, and once, famously, in teaching his disciples, he declared: “The kingdom of God is within you”. If we try to define Christ’s sovereignty in worldly terms we are destined to frustration – any human model of authority just does not work when applied to the Son of God – but if we understand God’s kingdom in the way that the Gospels define it, we see it as the gradual conversion of human hearts, from within – not a cosmic reality yet, but the grain of wheat falling into the ground, the mustard seed slowly taking root. The truth which Jesus offers Pilate is the potential for change within the heart of each individual. His call to conversion is so much more radical than anything envisaged by those seeking to build utopia on earth.
But if, for the moment, the reality of Christ’s Kingdom is hidden, not easily observable, underground, that does not mean this will always be the case. Very much the opposite. We are those who are committed to the new heaven and the new earth envisaged by Daniel: “I gazed into the visions of then night, and I saw, coming on the clouds of heaven, one like a son of man – on him was conferred sovereignty, glory and kingship and men of all peoples, nations and languages became his servants. His sovereignty is an eternal sovereignty which shall never pass away”.
We are looking towards a final moment of judgement when everything that is good and creative and positive and life-affirming will be seen for what it is – and when everything evil and destructive and negative and life denying is also seen for what it truly is. We believe that the Father has put all judgement into the hands of his Son, and that it is Jesus, alone, who has the power to say: “Come you whom my Father has blessed, take for your heritage the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world”.
Until that final Day of Judgement the kingdom will not be seen clearly, and right up to the very end the symbol of Christ’s kingship will be nothing more than a crown of thorns placed on the Man with the broken heart. That is why the celebration of Our Lord Jesus Christ as Universal King is a closely bound up with devotion to his Sacred Heart. “Everyone will see him, even those who pierced him”. Sovereignty through suffering – lordship through self-sacrifice – this is the mystery and the glory of our faith. It is a mystery which can only be fathomed by those who, like the Saviour himself, are the poor in spirit. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, theirs is the kingdom of heaven”.
Jesus, gentle and humble in heart,
make our hearts like your heart.
make our hearts like your heart.
Jesus, may your kingdom come!
21.11.09
THE RECTOR WRITES [22nd November]
The Rector writes .. .. ..
This past week’s State Opening of Parliament by the Queen necessarily means that our perceptions of monarchy are influenced by the grandeur of the spectacle – the state coach, the precision of the ceremonial, the crown jewels. None of this helps in our understanding of what we celebrate on this last Sunday of the Christian year – Christ the Universal King. In his dialogue with Pontius Pilate, Jesus made clear that “my kingdom is not of this world”. The symbols of earthly influence and power do not have any meaning for Christ: rather, his insignia is that of a broken heart encircled by thorns. St John’s comment on the crucified Saviour is a prophecy – “they will look on the one whom they have pierced” – for in every generation it is the poor in spirit and the broken in heart who most readily recognise the authentic nature of Christ’s sovereignty. “I come among you as one who serves”.
Most conversations I have had over the past few weeks have centred on how I am settling into a new situation and how Spanish Place compares with Hackney! My response is that people are people: we may come from differing social and ethnic backgrounds but the basic needs and questions are the same. There is one area though that I think can be singled out for particular mention, and that is music. In the East End I was used to vigorous (if not always tuneful) congregational singing – when the new Archbishop had his "welcome" Mass at Kingsland many commented they thought the roof was coming off with the volume of the Missa de Angelis. Here at St James’s the musical offering is very different and quite glorious. I would like to pay tribute to Dr Terry Worroll and to Isteyn Evans for the sheer excellence of what is offered Sunday by Sunday. After experiencing beautiful music in church, St Augustine wrote: “those sounds flowed into my ears, distilling the truth in my heart” – it is our privilege at St James’s to echo the same sentiments.
Several people have expressed concerns about the swine flu epidemic which, although it does not as yet seem to have assumed the proportions predicted, is still a threat to the very young, the elderly and the vulnerable. Some dioceses have already moved to stop the sharing of the chalice, communion on the tongue and the giving of the sign of peace by touch. The Archdiocese of Westminster continues to monitor the situation but, for the present, their advice is to do no more than follow good practice in regard to hygiene: we are not complacent, but now does not seem the moment to take extraordinary measures.
I am pleased to be able to announce that two priests will be joining us in the first part of the New Year. Father David Irwin will be leaving his parish of St Peter in Chains, Stroud Green, to take on a new responsibility co-ordinating the ethnic chaplaincies in the Diocese (there are over seventy of them). It will be good to have this fascinating ministry centred on Spanish Place. Monsignor Francis Jamieson is the Vicar General of the Apostolic Vicariate of Arabia: he has unparalleled experience of guiding the Catholic Church’s mission in strictly Islamic societies, having worked in the United Arab Emirates, Yemen and Saudi Arabia for the past twenty years. Monsignor Jamieson will continue to be incardinated in Arabia and to work for the Vicariate, but he will have residence with us and will help in the parish. It will be a great joy to have Father Irwin and Monsignor Jamieson living in the Rectory, and their breadth of experience will add fresh dimensions to our parish life.
This past week’s State Opening of Parliament by the Queen necessarily means that our perceptions of monarchy are influenced by the grandeur of the spectacle – the state coach, the precision of the ceremonial, the crown jewels. None of this helps in our understanding of what we celebrate on this last Sunday of the Christian year – Christ the Universal King. In his dialogue with Pontius Pilate, Jesus made clear that “my kingdom is not of this world”. The symbols of earthly influence and power do not have any meaning for Christ: rather, his insignia is that of a broken heart encircled by thorns. St John’s comment on the crucified Saviour is a prophecy – “they will look on the one whom they have pierced” – for in every generation it is the poor in spirit and the broken in heart who most readily recognise the authentic nature of Christ’s sovereignty. “I come among you as one who serves”.
Most conversations I have had over the past few weeks have centred on how I am settling into a new situation and how Spanish Place compares with Hackney! My response is that people are people: we may come from differing social and ethnic backgrounds but the basic needs and questions are the same. There is one area though that I think can be singled out for particular mention, and that is music. In the East End I was used to vigorous (if not always tuneful) congregational singing – when the new Archbishop had his "welcome" Mass at Kingsland many commented they thought the roof was coming off with the volume of the Missa de Angelis. Here at St James’s the musical offering is very different and quite glorious. I would like to pay tribute to Dr Terry Worroll and to Isteyn Evans for the sheer excellence of what is offered Sunday by Sunday. After experiencing beautiful music in church, St Augustine wrote: “those sounds flowed into my ears, distilling the truth in my heart” – it is our privilege at St James’s to echo the same sentiments.
Several people have expressed concerns about the swine flu epidemic which, although it does not as yet seem to have assumed the proportions predicted, is still a threat to the very young, the elderly and the vulnerable. Some dioceses have already moved to stop the sharing of the chalice, communion on the tongue and the giving of the sign of peace by touch. The Archdiocese of Westminster continues to monitor the situation but, for the present, their advice is to do no more than follow good practice in regard to hygiene: we are not complacent, but now does not seem the moment to take extraordinary measures.
I am pleased to be able to announce that two priests will be joining us in the first part of the New Year. Father David Irwin will be leaving his parish of St Peter in Chains, Stroud Green, to take on a new responsibility co-ordinating the ethnic chaplaincies in the Diocese (there are over seventy of them). It will be good to have this fascinating ministry centred on Spanish Place. Monsignor Francis Jamieson is the Vicar General of the Apostolic Vicariate of Arabia: he has unparalleled experience of guiding the Catholic Church’s mission in strictly Islamic societies, having worked in the United Arab Emirates, Yemen and Saudi Arabia for the past twenty years. Monsignor Jamieson will continue to be incardinated in Arabia and to work for the Vicariate, but he will have residence with us and will help in the parish. It will be a great joy to have Father Irwin and Monsignor Jamieson living in the Rectory, and their breadth of experience will add fresh dimensions to our parish life.
THE RECTOR WRITES [15th November]
The Rector writes .. .. ..
There is a remarkable exhibition at the National Galley (which runs until 24th January) called “The Sacred Made Real: Spanish Painting & Culture 1600-1700”. As its title suggests, the exhibition includes paintings and artefacts from an intensely Catholic culture at the height of the Counter-Reformation and as such, some of the critics have noted, could not have been envisaged even a decade ago. For all kinds of complex reasons (partly to do with the newer waves of immigration) British society is changing and becoming more open to imagery and concepts which past generations would have considered anathema. This early part of the 21st century does provide the Catholic Church with fresh opportunities for evangelisation and where the Faith can be presented in a form that has intellectual and cultural integrity we can expect to find signs of a rich harvest. Richard Dorment, an occasional parishioner and the art correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, has noted how many contemporary British artists are deeply influenced by Catholic imagery (not least in the current display of Damien Hirst paintings at the Wallace Collection). We seem to have laid to rest some of the ghosts from the past leaving more people sympathetic to the Catholic option.
For many years now the priests of Opus Dei have been hearing confessions at Saint James’s six days a week. This is a generous commitment on the part of Opus for which we are extremely grateful. Of its nature the ministry of reconciliation is a hidden one but its value cannot be underestimated. Day by day people know that they can come to Spanish Place to be renewed in the loving mercy of God. Many come with the ordinary sins of human veniality; others will have heavy burdens from which they need to be released. Not for nothing does the Catechism of the Catholic Church treat Penance under the heading of “The Sacraments of Healing”. So much is going on in the parish in a quiet, unpublicised way, which is of great benefit to souls, and we should be thankful for it.
In the Judaeo-Christian tradition no easy distinction can be drawn between bodies and souls (the Apostles’ Creed talks of belief in the “resurrection of the body” i.e. the whole person), and it is right and proper that, as well as trying to provide nourishment for the spirit we should not forget the very real social needs that confront so many around us. I have been very impressed by the commitment of the Society of St Vincent de Paul in all the effort which goes into the twice-weekly soup run organised in the social centre, and it is also fitting that our premises should host the De Paul Trust in its work with the young unemployed and those seeking to build a new life after prison terms. As part of the parish’s concern for genuine inclusion there has been an on-going project to provide access for the disabled to both church and crypt. We have now reached the stage where tenders have been returned and are being considered. It is hoped that work will begin early the New Year and that the necessary disruption will be kept to a minimum. We have been blessed with marvellous resources; we must ensure that our stewardship of them is both wise and open-handed.
There is a remarkable exhibition at the National Galley (which runs until 24th January) called “The Sacred Made Real: Spanish Painting & Culture 1600-1700”. As its title suggests, the exhibition includes paintings and artefacts from an intensely Catholic culture at the height of the Counter-Reformation and as such, some of the critics have noted, could not have been envisaged even a decade ago. For all kinds of complex reasons (partly to do with the newer waves of immigration) British society is changing and becoming more open to imagery and concepts which past generations would have considered anathema. This early part of the 21st century does provide the Catholic Church with fresh opportunities for evangelisation and where the Faith can be presented in a form that has intellectual and cultural integrity we can expect to find signs of a rich harvest. Richard Dorment, an occasional parishioner and the art correspondent of the Daily Telegraph, has noted how many contemporary British artists are deeply influenced by Catholic imagery (not least in the current display of Damien Hirst paintings at the Wallace Collection). We seem to have laid to rest some of the ghosts from the past leaving more people sympathetic to the Catholic option.
For many years now the priests of Opus Dei have been hearing confessions at Saint James’s six days a week. This is a generous commitment on the part of Opus for which we are extremely grateful. Of its nature the ministry of reconciliation is a hidden one but its value cannot be underestimated. Day by day people know that they can come to Spanish Place to be renewed in the loving mercy of God. Many come with the ordinary sins of human veniality; others will have heavy burdens from which they need to be released. Not for nothing does the Catechism of the Catholic Church treat Penance under the heading of “The Sacraments of Healing”. So much is going on in the parish in a quiet, unpublicised way, which is of great benefit to souls, and we should be thankful for it.
In the Judaeo-Christian tradition no easy distinction can be drawn between bodies and souls (the Apostles’ Creed talks of belief in the “resurrection of the body” i.e. the whole person), and it is right and proper that, as well as trying to provide nourishment for the spirit we should not forget the very real social needs that confront so many around us. I have been very impressed by the commitment of the Society of St Vincent de Paul in all the effort which goes into the twice-weekly soup run organised in the social centre, and it is also fitting that our premises should host the De Paul Trust in its work with the young unemployed and those seeking to build a new life after prison terms. As part of the parish’s concern for genuine inclusion there has been an on-going project to provide access for the disabled to both church and crypt. We have now reached the stage where tenders have been returned and are being considered. It is hoped that work will begin early the New Year and that the necessary disruption will be kept to a minimum. We have been blessed with marvellous resources; we must ensure that our stewardship of them is both wise and open-handed.
15.11.09
Sermon for Remembrance Sunday [8th Nov. 2009]
The last 100 years has seen much progress – in technology, in healthcare, in travel, in communications – but it does us well to ponder the sad truth that more have died in those last 100 years in war than in any century before. It is right that we should remember those men and women and children whose lives were surrendered willingly, and unwillingly – all those human stories cut short. But those who died were not the only casualties – there are so many who continue to bear the scars – physical, mental and emotional – of what they have been caught up into. Add to these the dispossessed, the refugees, the asylum seekers & the numbers become so immense our minds can come nowhere near comprehending them: and every statistic is a personal tragedy – it is a family, like yours, like mine, which is left to count the cost of each act of violence.
In this process of remembering we as Catholics have a unique insight to offer. Each time a Mass is offered, the celebrant reminds us of the command of Jesus to “do this in memory of me: do this as my memorial”. The memorial that is talked of here is not like the Cenotaph in Whitehall, something static, fixed, a symbol of what has been. The Christian memorial is a living memory - referring to past events, yes, but in their remembering, making them a present reality.
We look back at newsreels to see what happened at the Somme, or Tobruk, in Vietnam or the Falklands, in Iraq and Afghanistan – but each time we share in the Mass, our looking back, our remembering, has a significantly different quality. The saving events of Jesus’ life, his death on Calvary, and his resurrection on Easter Day, become a part of our experience now. Here at our altars we are not relying on an enduring memory of past history, rather, because Christ transcends time and space, because he is Lord of past, present and future, because death no longer lays claim to his Body, we are caught up into what we commemorate.
The idea of memorial for us as Catholics is not like the re-run of a well-known record or play. Our understanding is that every time we “do this” in the Lord’s memory, he is here with us, truly, really present, and the events we call to mind are not just encapsulated in the memory, but become truth for us here and now.
In the face of human suffering, as we contemplate just how far our world is from what it was created to be, and as once again the armed forces of our nation are engaged in a cruel war, the one great contribution we have to make in our yearning for genuine and lasting peace, is our sharing in the mystery of the Eucharist. In every Mass we identity our poor, little prayers with the great prayer of Jesus, poured out in loving obedience to his Father. As one of our hymns says: “Look Father, look on his anointed face, and only look on us as found in him: look not on our misusings of your grace, our prayer so languid and our faith so dim; for lo! between our sins & their reward, we set the passion of your Son, our Lord”.
On this Remembrance Sunday we call to mind the teaching of the Church that the effects of the Mass are not just to build up the Kingdom of God here on earth, but also to make for the peace and forgiveness of those who have died, and, particularly on this day, for those who have met their death in the violence of war.
Listen to St Cyril of Jerusalem as far back as the 4th century: “We pray for all who have fallen asleep before us in the belief that it is a great benefit to the souls on whose behalf the supplication is offered, while the holy and tremendous Victim is present … by offering our supplications for those who have fallen asleep, we offer Christ sacrificed for the sins of all, and so render favourable, for them and for us, the God who loves his people”. Today, and through this month of the Holy Souls, let us remember our duty to those who have died.
“Lord, in this sacrament you have given us your crucified and risen Son. Bring to the glory of the resurrection our departed brothers and sisters who are purified by this mystery. Grant this through Christ our Lord”.
In this process of remembering we as Catholics have a unique insight to offer. Each time a Mass is offered, the celebrant reminds us of the command of Jesus to “do this in memory of me: do this as my memorial”. The memorial that is talked of here is not like the Cenotaph in Whitehall, something static, fixed, a symbol of what has been. The Christian memorial is a living memory - referring to past events, yes, but in their remembering, making them a present reality.
We look back at newsreels to see what happened at the Somme, or Tobruk, in Vietnam or the Falklands, in Iraq and Afghanistan – but each time we share in the Mass, our looking back, our remembering, has a significantly different quality. The saving events of Jesus’ life, his death on Calvary, and his resurrection on Easter Day, become a part of our experience now. Here at our altars we are not relying on an enduring memory of past history, rather, because Christ transcends time and space, because he is Lord of past, present and future, because death no longer lays claim to his Body, we are caught up into what we commemorate.
The idea of memorial for us as Catholics is not like the re-run of a well-known record or play. Our understanding is that every time we “do this” in the Lord’s memory, he is here with us, truly, really present, and the events we call to mind are not just encapsulated in the memory, but become truth for us here and now.
In the face of human suffering, as we contemplate just how far our world is from what it was created to be, and as once again the armed forces of our nation are engaged in a cruel war, the one great contribution we have to make in our yearning for genuine and lasting peace, is our sharing in the mystery of the Eucharist. In every Mass we identity our poor, little prayers with the great prayer of Jesus, poured out in loving obedience to his Father. As one of our hymns says: “Look Father, look on his anointed face, and only look on us as found in him: look not on our misusings of your grace, our prayer so languid and our faith so dim; for lo! between our sins & their reward, we set the passion of your Son, our Lord”.
On this Remembrance Sunday we call to mind the teaching of the Church that the effects of the Mass are not just to build up the Kingdom of God here on earth, but also to make for the peace and forgiveness of those who have died, and, particularly on this day, for those who have met their death in the violence of war.
Listen to St Cyril of Jerusalem as far back as the 4th century: “We pray for all who have fallen asleep before us in the belief that it is a great benefit to the souls on whose behalf the supplication is offered, while the holy and tremendous Victim is present … by offering our supplications for those who have fallen asleep, we offer Christ sacrificed for the sins of all, and so render favourable, for them and for us, the God who loves his people”. Today, and through this month of the Holy Souls, let us remember our duty to those who have died.
“Lord, in this sacrament you have given us your crucified and risen Son. Bring to the glory of the resurrection our departed brothers and sisters who are purified by this mystery. Grant this through Christ our Lord”.
7.11.09
THE RECTOR WRITES [8th November]
The German Jesuit theolgian Karl Rahner (an early influence on Pope Benedict) used to say that the real test of a Christian community’s vitality is not the total attending Mass each Sunday, nor the activities they undertake (good as those might be), but the number of new Christians who have been added to the community in the past year. By that, Rahner explains that he means not converts from other traditions, but adults who have come fresh to faith in Christ and have sought Baptism and the life of grace. I think Rahner’s test remains valid. If we are presenting the Gospel in an authentic way then it should prove attractive not just to those already formed in the ways of faith, but also to individuals of good will who have not as yet sought Baptism.
This week sees the beginning of the adult instruction course (the RCIA = Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults). We will meet at 7pm on Tuesday (and subsequent Tuesdays) in the Rectory. So far, fifteen people have indicated their desire to learn more about the Catholic Faith in this way, and if there are others who would like to use this opportunity for study and discussion they will be very welcome to join the group. Some of those starting the course are seeking Baptism, others Confirmation, while others feel this is the time to look again at what they believe. Please keep the RCIA in your prayers – these (mostly) young adults are God’s gift to us and we should value and support them
During November our thoughts are particularly concerned with those who have gone before us in faith. St John Chrysostom says: “Let us help and commemorate them. If Job’s sons were purified by their father’s sacrifice, why should we doubt that our offerings for the dead bring them some comfort? Let us not hesitate to help those who have died and to offer our prayers for them”. In ways that we do not as yet fully comprehend, we on earth have solidarity with those who have passed through the gateway of death and await their full share in the Resurrection. As they undergo the experience of purification and change, we can help them with our prayers and most especially by our offering of the Eucharist. The Mass is the perfect form of intercession because it is Christ’s own prayer made in loving obedience to his Father and it is right that we should associate our departed loved ones with the Holy Sacrifice – this can be done by including their names on the November Dead List or by writing their names on the papers provided at the back of church which will then be kept on the altar throughout November.
It is just on a month since I took over from Father Terry Phipps. The learning curve has been fairly steep but I would like to say a very sincere “thank you” to everyone for the warmth of your welcome and for the help and guidance I have been given. To quote once more what Mother Teresa of Calcutta would often say to her Missionaries of Charity, “Together, let us do something beautiful for God”.
This week sees the beginning of the adult instruction course (the RCIA = Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults). We will meet at 7pm on Tuesday (and subsequent Tuesdays) in the Rectory. So far, fifteen people have indicated their desire to learn more about the Catholic Faith in this way, and if there are others who would like to use this opportunity for study and discussion they will be very welcome to join the group. Some of those starting the course are seeking Baptism, others Confirmation, while others feel this is the time to look again at what they believe. Please keep the RCIA in your prayers – these (mostly) young adults are God’s gift to us and we should value and support them
During November our thoughts are particularly concerned with those who have gone before us in faith. St John Chrysostom says: “Let us help and commemorate them. If Job’s sons were purified by their father’s sacrifice, why should we doubt that our offerings for the dead bring them some comfort? Let us not hesitate to help those who have died and to offer our prayers for them”. In ways that we do not as yet fully comprehend, we on earth have solidarity with those who have passed through the gateway of death and await their full share in the Resurrection. As they undergo the experience of purification and change, we can help them with our prayers and most especially by our offering of the Eucharist. The Mass is the perfect form of intercession because it is Christ’s own prayer made in loving obedience to his Father and it is right that we should associate our departed loved ones with the Holy Sacrifice – this can be done by including their names on the November Dead List or by writing their names on the papers provided at the back of church which will then be kept on the altar throughout November.
It is just on a month since I took over from Father Terry Phipps. The learning curve has been fairly steep but I would like to say a very sincere “thank you” to everyone for the warmth of your welcome and for the help and guidance I have been given. To quote once more what Mother Teresa of Calcutta would often say to her Missionaries of Charity, “Together, let us do something beautiful for God”.
1.11.09
Sermon for the Solemnity of All Saints [1st November 2009]
We tend to forget that before Islam took root in North Africa, the Church had flourished there for centuries. One of its greatest lights was St Cyprian who was martyred around the year 250. Here he is preaching about the prospect of eternal life: “How great will your glory and happiness be, to be allowed to see God, to be honoured with sharing the joy of salvation and eternal light with Christ your Lord and God … to delight in the joy of immortality in the kingdom of heaven with the righteous and God’s friends”.
Today we celebrate the solemnity of All Saints. The rest of the year is peppered with commemorations of the individual names we know and love: St James, St Francis, St Patrick, St Mary Magdalene, St Martin de Porres, St Catherine, St Joseph and Our Lady. But on this one day we recognise that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and we try to hold together a picture of all the blessed in Heaven – “the righteous, God’s friends” - most of those whose names we do not know. We are conscious of all those who have gone before us – those who have faced up to death, and now have their full share in the Resurrection as they live eternally in the presence of God. St John in his great Revelation of heaven expresses it like this: “I saw a huge number, impossible to count, of people from every nation, race, tribe and language: they were standing in front of the throne”.
As we look around us at the present state of the world there is so much sadness and so much badness. The media reports day after day make depressing reading - they pull us down, making us question our own humanity – why is there so much that disturbs, that is cruel, that is just plain evil, going on around us? In asking us to celebrate this lovely feast of All Saints, the Church wants us to raise our eyes – to catch a glimpse of heaven – to realise that there is so much more to this life than there appears to be: that unseen, but vitally, vibrantly alive, all around us is another, fuller, dimension, in which we are called to live, and to place our hope.
The Apostles’ Creed speaks about the “communion of saints”. We believe that those who have gone before us in faith and now share in their eternal reward are still intimately bound to us here on earth – they are part of our life – they support us, they intercede for us, they yearn that, one day, we shall see and experience what they now see and experience. They will not rest until their vision is ours. It was Therese of Lisieux who said that she would spend her heaven doing good on earth. Thank God that is what all the saints are doing – good on earth. They are our friends – they are always busy on our behalf. They are our promise of glory.
But the saints in heaven are not just a foretaste of what will be – their experience is also a challenge to each of us, here and now. That same Therese of Lisieux writing about herself as a small child said that even from a very young age she wanted to be a saint. Not “I want my statue in churches all over the world” – not, “I want to be venerated to the ends of the earth”, but I want to be what God intended me to be. I want to fulfil the promises of my Baptism. I want to be holy. I want to be able to say with St Paul: “It is not I who live, it is Christ who lives in me”. “I want to be a saint”. It is something each of us ought to be able to say. It is what the Christian life is all about.
The saints in heaven show us that it is possible to live a holy life on this earth, and to look ahead to future glory. As St John has it: “what we are to be in the future has not yet been revealed, all we know is that when it is revealed we shall be like him because we shall see him as he really is”. The example of the saints shows that holiness of life is possible: sanctity is within your grasp and mine. If we really want to become saints, we can. If we really do want to join those already in heaven, we will.
But surely, that is all easier said than done? How can we aspire to sanctity, we who are all too conscious of the ties of this earth and of our own weakness of will? The Gospel we have heard at this Mass opens up the road to holiness. It says, “Do not be taken in by contemporary orthodoxies. Have the courage to judge by the standards of Christ. Dare to be different”. Jesus’ Beatitudes, in St Matthew’s summing up of the Sermon on the Mount, are as radical now as when they were first preached. The poor in spirit, the gentle, those who mourn, the pure in heart, the merciful, the peacemakers – those who are abused and persecuted for the sake of the truth. These are the very ones who have the reward of eternal life. We have an example of what his means in practice before us this weekend. Our bishops call for us to make the Catholic voice heard in the debate on assisted suicide. If we would be saints, then we have to “dare to be different”. Pray God, each of us has that desire.
Today we celebrate the solemnity of All Saints. The rest of the year is peppered with commemorations of the individual names we know and love: St James, St Francis, St Patrick, St Mary Magdalene, St Martin de Porres, St Catherine, St Joseph and Our Lady. But on this one day we recognise that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and we try to hold together a picture of all the blessed in Heaven – “the righteous, God’s friends” - most of those whose names we do not know. We are conscious of all those who have gone before us – those who have faced up to death, and now have their full share in the Resurrection as they live eternally in the presence of God. St John in his great Revelation of heaven expresses it like this: “I saw a huge number, impossible to count, of people from every nation, race, tribe and language: they were standing in front of the throne”.
As we look around us at the present state of the world there is so much sadness and so much badness. The media reports day after day make depressing reading - they pull us down, making us question our own humanity – why is there so much that disturbs, that is cruel, that is just plain evil, going on around us? In asking us to celebrate this lovely feast of All Saints, the Church wants us to raise our eyes – to catch a glimpse of heaven – to realise that there is so much more to this life than there appears to be: that unseen, but vitally, vibrantly alive, all around us is another, fuller, dimension, in which we are called to live, and to place our hope.
The Apostles’ Creed speaks about the “communion of saints”. We believe that those who have gone before us in faith and now share in their eternal reward are still intimately bound to us here on earth – they are part of our life – they support us, they intercede for us, they yearn that, one day, we shall see and experience what they now see and experience. They will not rest until their vision is ours. It was Therese of Lisieux who said that she would spend her heaven doing good on earth. Thank God that is what all the saints are doing – good on earth. They are our friends – they are always busy on our behalf. They are our promise of glory.
But the saints in heaven are not just a foretaste of what will be – their experience is also a challenge to each of us, here and now. That same Therese of Lisieux writing about herself as a small child said that even from a very young age she wanted to be a saint. Not “I want my statue in churches all over the world” – not, “I want to be venerated to the ends of the earth”, but I want to be what God intended me to be. I want to fulfil the promises of my Baptism. I want to be holy. I want to be able to say with St Paul: “It is not I who live, it is Christ who lives in me”. “I want to be a saint”. It is something each of us ought to be able to say. It is what the Christian life is all about.
The saints in heaven show us that it is possible to live a holy life on this earth, and to look ahead to future glory. As St John has it: “what we are to be in the future has not yet been revealed, all we know is that when it is revealed we shall be like him because we shall see him as he really is”. The example of the saints shows that holiness of life is possible: sanctity is within your grasp and mine. If we really want to become saints, we can. If we really do want to join those already in heaven, we will.
But surely, that is all easier said than done? How can we aspire to sanctity, we who are all too conscious of the ties of this earth and of our own weakness of will? The Gospel we have heard at this Mass opens up the road to holiness. It says, “Do not be taken in by contemporary orthodoxies. Have the courage to judge by the standards of Christ. Dare to be different”. Jesus’ Beatitudes, in St Matthew’s summing up of the Sermon on the Mount, are as radical now as when they were first preached. The poor in spirit, the gentle, those who mourn, the pure in heart, the merciful, the peacemakers – those who are abused and persecuted for the sake of the truth. These are the very ones who have the reward of eternal life. We have an example of what his means in practice before us this weekend. Our bishops call for us to make the Catholic voice heard in the debate on assisted suicide. If we would be saints, then we have to “dare to be different”. Pray God, each of us has that desire.
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