Author: mrgsponderings

Aspire to Be

Another picture reflection from my friend Joyce Smith

This quotation from Oscar Romero is one that is often quoted. In one sense it is about putting the needs of the poor and the oppressed before onself. In our tupsy-turvy world the love of possessions is often greater than responding to the needs of the people who have little. This is becoming more obvious as the Covid virus is affecting levels of society which have, hitherto, been fairly immune, maybe even cushioned, from reality. Less so now, though there is a strata of society who have been rarely affected by the vagaries of the economic and social situation. We had an example of that yesterday in a thoughtless and rather pompous utterance in Parliament by a Government minister, with much personal wealth, whose main job ought to be about serving the people – all, not just a select and privileged few.

Oscar Romero knew life to be at its harshest and also fought for those in material terms have very little. He cautioned against judging people on what they haven’t got in the way of possessions. We must affirm people not for what they lack in a material sense but rather for WHO they are.
Being or becoming the person God means us to be is much more important than any thing else. Sister Edmee of the Sisters of the Love of God believed that it’s our prime vocation to enter into a unique and personal relationsip with God as, through grace He shapes us into becoming the person He longs us to be.
Each of us is called into a unique relationship with God which allows Him to love us in a special way. It is a call  heard and answered in prayer. Out of this is the love we pour into a fragmented and often despairing society, especially at present. Our true being is expressed primarily in serving God and so reaching out in love to others. Especially those who need our love the most – the lonely and afraid, the sick and the suffering, those who are having a rough time in so many different ways. We are called to be healers who in the power of Jesus’s name touch open wounds and pour in the balm of love.

Jonathan Sachs understood this more than most and not just because he represented a people who have suffered (and go on suffering) at the hands of others through prejudice, persecution and destruction.
He understood the need to celebrate who we are and to reach out to others way above aquisitiveness.

In the end we will be judged by how much we have tried to love others, God, and yes, in the right way, ourselves, rather than how much we have in the bank or how much we have achieved in terms of personal success or what we have acquired.
In his book, To heal a Fractured World, Jonathan Sachs speaks of the most difficult thing he had to do after becoming a rabbi – taking funerals. Being new, he had little knowledge of his people and he had to ask others about the deceased.
Usually, he says, they would tell him about how so-and-so had been a loving husband or wife, a loving parent, a loyal friend. They would speak about the good they had done to others, often quietly, discreetly. When they were needed, they were there. They shouldered their responsibilities to the community. They gave to charitable causes and if they couldn’t give money, they gave time. Those most mourned and missed,  he says, were not the most successful, rich or famous. They were people who enhanced the lives of others. They were the people who were loved. At no point did people speak in praise of people who had died, about what car they drove, what house they owned, the clothes they wore, the exotic holidays they took.

At the heart of all this, he says, is that “God created the world so that others could enjoy it. Goodness is not an attribute of the soul but a way of acting and creating: creating happiness for other people, mitigating their distress, removing even a fraction of the world’s pain. we worship God spiritually by helping his creation physically.

That was central to the praying, teaching and action of Oscar Romero and it breathes meaning into his belief that we should : Aspire not to have more, but to be more.
Rather like the lovely owl who is ready for flight and freedom. Who soars above the world and celebrates sheer being and brings joy to all whose lives are lifted by the sight.
Do we lift others by our actions, our love, and who we are?

Thank you Joyce for the lovely image to go with Oscar Romero’s vital words.

[Mr G]

Big in the eyes of God

Photo of Tarn Hows and surrounding hills by Gill Henwood

Today, December 14th, is a special day. It’s the day the Church keeps the feast of St. John of the Cross.

Some years ago, towards the end of a visit to Spain, we arrived at Ubeda. It was a wet Sunday afternoon and the town was all but deserted. The one eating and drinking place was the only crowded place. I had gone there, however to see something very important.

We had started the Spanish journey by travelling from Madrid to Avila. There, my companion and I visited the shrine of St. Teresa of Avila. She has been a favourite saint of mine for a long time and I have tried to dig deep into her spirituality. There is something profoundly mystical about her and yet, also, an accessible ordinariness. Teresa tells it as it is! She also tells God what’s on her mind!

Her legacy, for which she was honoured as a Doctor (Teacher) of the Faith, is her teaching on prayer. Yet her writing, done usually on the hoof, had to be encouraged. She was busy at the time reforming the Carmelite order and founding new convents of what became known as the discalced (barefoot) order of the contemplative Carmelites. (when she wasn’t actually shouting at popes, nobles and, at times God!)

In all this activity she had a series of mentors, confessors and encouragers. The chief amonst these, and her very special friend was St John of the Cross. His friendship did so much to help her in guiding others and in leaving us the great spiritual treasure we still have today.

St. John of the Cross was, himself, a man of deep spirituality. His writings and, especially his spiritual poems, established him as a mystic who walked close to God and for whom God’s love was deeply personal. The power of God’s love to touch ALL hearts is expressed by John in something he truly believed. He said, Where there is no love put love in and you will find love. In people and in situations where love is lacking, put the love of God in and you will draw love out. John of the Cross saw this as one of the most important witnesses we can make for God.

Often misunderstood and persecuted, even imprisoned, he found strength from his deep relationship with God. He also found a spiritual home in Teresa’s discalced Carmelites which he joined.

Amongst his writings is ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’, ‘The Ascent of Mount Carmel’ and ‘Spiritual Canticle’. A good introduction to his life and spirituality is by E Allison Peers, available still from good bookshops.

Like Teresa he was made a Doctor of the Church.

That rainy afternoon in Ubeda, our knocking on the door of the museum/monastery was rewarded at precisely 4pm! (When siesta was over). We were led by a quiet but welcoming monk to the shrine of St. John of the Cross. A wonderfully profound moment at the end of our joureying in Spain. In my heart was the link between the beginning of that journey and its end, not least because these two saints, in so many ways, had hearts for God that beat as one. Teresa said of John: “I cannot be in the presence of John without being lifted up into the presence of God.” In each other, they found God’s friendship and company.

But let Teresa have the last word about him on this, his feast day. She said of him, ‘Though he is small in stature, he is Big in God’s eyes.’ What better thing could be said of anyone!

[Mr. G]

The Year’s Midnight

St Lucy’s day celebration in Sweden

December 13th is  the feast day of St. Lucy.
She was an early 4th century Christian who lived at Syracuse in Sicily at a time when the Roman Emperor wanted to restore the worship of pagan gods and, particularly, worship of himself as a god.
Lucy was supposedly a wealthy woman who, in a true following of the Gospel, decided to give away all her possessions and provide for the poor. Engaged to be married at the time; her betrothed took exception to this – no doubt having planned to marry her for her money – and so, in a fit of pique, he denounced her to the authorities. They are said to have tortured her and finally put her to death. As she died she predicted that soon persecutions such as hers would cease. Within a few years, when Constantine became Emperor he established Christianity as the only religion of the Roman Empire thus fulfilling her prophecy.

Lucy belongs, then, to that period of Christianity when martyrdom – dying rather than denouncing Christ – was not only common but also inspirational. Christians under suffering drew strength from the martyrs witness.
As with many early saints, her story became surrounded by legend as it was told throughout Christendom and her cult increased. Up until late medieval times her feast day was one that was well observed.

Whilst the martyrdom itself is the chief reason for remembering her there is another reason and it is contained in the meaning of her name – Lucy means ‘Pure Light’ – and in the position of her feast day in the Church’s Calendar. Until the secular calendar changed in the 18th century, St. Lucy’s day was the shortest day of the year – the day when the hours of daylight reached their lowest point.

The 17th century priest and poet, John Donne – who became Dean of St. Paul’s, wrote a poem  entitled “A nocturnall upon St.Lucie’s day, being the shortest day”  which began with the words:
‘Tis the yeares midnight’
which captures the sense that on St. Lucy’s day the world is at its lowest ebb. It was the time of the pagan midwinter solstice when Nature is at its deadest, which for us is marked by cold and cheerless weather, a longing to be warm indoors – our own version of hibernation, a looking forward to the light of spring. For our forebears it was a time of terror, confusion and darkness, of infertility, hunger and danger as the sun’s light all but disappears.
The Christian overlaying of this time of the year with the Festival of Christmas is no accident – the early fathers of the Church were determined not only to stamp out paganism by replacing it with new interpretation – they also recognised that midwinter was a time of gloom, despair and shadows. What better than to transform it with a festival of light and joy. So the observance of Christmas in late December seemed a natural development. St. Lucy’s day anticipates that and in Sweden and other Nordic countries it is a day of great celebration of Light.

St. Lucy’s day, falling in mid-Advent became a natural turning point as, in old calculation, we pass the shortest day and move slowly but certainly towards the re-birth that we know as Spring. From the day of her feast – though now from December 21st – the light returns; hope in new birth is gradually awakened and the year’s midnight turns towards a new dawn – the dawn of spring, still some time off but from that moment coming ever near. Here is promise and hope. It is perhaps harder for us in a world of artificial light to fully understand the relief of insecure primitive man as light returns.
Lucy, representing Light became the pivot on which the world turns.

The Christian interpretation is easy to see – as the anticipation of the Christmas festival begins to gather pace. St. Lucy’s day marks not only the restoration of the Sun’s light – it marks much more the movement towards the celebration which, in the words of St. John’s Gospel, is about God’s light coming into the world – the light which ‘shines in the darkness’  and which the darkness cannot overcome.
The physical ‘world’s midnight’ is reinterpreted as its ‘spiritual midnight’. The darkness and gloom of unbelief is pinpricked with a dawning light shining from the Incarnation of God’s Son who , in St. John’s words, is the ‘true light, which enlightens everyone.’ He was coming into the world.

The place of Light in the Christian tradition is always connected with Christ. We fill our churches with candlelight which, in former times, had a practical purpose, but as with most things Christian, is also resonant with a spiritual interpretation.
In many churches there is perpetually a light burning before the sacrament in the aumbry or tabernacle – a reminder of the light within contained in the Blessed Sacrament – a symbol itself of Christ’s perpetual presence amongst us.
How many, like me, have entered a church when it is dark and been drawn to that pinprick of light and have known that whatever life throws at us, there is always the light of Christ drawing us from gloom, darkness, life’s pain and confusion towards Him who is both Light and hope?
This is the essence of Christmas – a festival to banish the darkness of winter which for the world is symbolised by decorated trees, carols, songs and festive fare and much tumult but which has, at its heart, the silent pinprick of light puncturing the darkness and refusing to be overcome by it. What hope that contains!

So we move through Advent towards the certainty of that light and as we pass St. Lucy’s day we are reminded that whilst there is suffering in this life, not least throughout the pandemic which has marred 2020, – there is beyond it a real hope. This hope is to be found in the ‘meaning’ of Christmas which is a festival celebrated in darkness yet within that darkness is the faint glimmer of light which grows stronger as Christ leads us from Christmas to Resurrection.

How strong that glimmer becomes personally depends as much on us as on anything else. Christ has already lightened the yeare’s midnight. He has already come into the world. Whether he can penetrate through to our hearts depends on whether we are prepared to put our hopes and our trust in God so that in his Word to us at Christmas – which is Christ – we are drawn to celebrate his light – not as a cultural festival with all its trimmings  which will be muted this year anyway– but as a profound sign that God really is in the midst of our lives, shining with the radiance of a love so powerful that not even our own worst fears, forebodings or the dark things that happen to us can drown him out.

Lucy, St Lucia – pure light gives us the word lucid – to make clear. In the morass of this present time may the light of hope, of love, of God become clear to us personally and shine in all our hearts and through us, into a world deeply in darkness and in need of Light.

[Mr G]

The Rainbow Promise

A vibrant rainbow arcs across Norfolk Bay on the Tasman Peninsula, Tasmania, Australia.

An Advent reflection from my friend Joyce Smith.

God said, ‘This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you ….  I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.  (Genesis 9: 12-15)

As the last tears of rain fell to the waiting earth,
the sun emerged from behind the darkened cloud
and a rainbow arced across the sky.

A rainbow
bright with promise
fragile with love.

Each colour of the bow
formed through brokenness
each colour
shining with hope.

The red, energetic and passionate;
on the outside, yet enveloping the whole.

The orange, glowing and warm;
encouraging, yet challenging.

The yellow, bright and sharp;
fun-loving, yet self-giving.

The green, vibrant and fruitful;
dancing, yet nurturing.

The blue, clear and concise;
seeing, yet knowing.

The indigo, royal and strong;
commanding, yet feeling.

The violet, mysterious and delicate
on the inside, yet in touch with the edges.

Each colour, unique and special;
each formed from the one broken and true light.

Each colour, unable to exist without the others;
each a vital part of the bow.

Each a part of the promise;
each a part of the brokenness.

Lord, as you remember your promise to us,
help us to join together to be the colours of your rainbow;
and reflect your one true light.