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The Sea, The Sea

Ocean Gyre.

Many years ago I was tutored by Fr. Hugh Maycock, who was probably one of the most interesting and intriguing people I have ever met. One day, he gave me two pieces of Basildon Bond azure paper on which were typed two poems.
One, which I have called Robes won by dying, is about the way autumn leaves change colour and an explanation of why they must. (You can read this as my blog for September 25^th)
The second poem I lost long ago but, oddly, it came to light recently amongst some old papers. It deserves to be read by others so I publish it below.
Both poems have an interesting, if brief, story behind them.

Father Hugh told me that they were written by a young man he knew who had been diagnosed with an incurable illness. In his physical and spiritual pain he had two battles to endure and engage with. One, of course, was the battle with the bodily and mental pain of his illness. The other was with the test of his faith and the making sense of what was happening to him. No doubt, like many in that position, there was a sense of ‘Why Me?’ and ‘Why is God allowing me to suffer?’

Father Hugh told me that the poems where born out of that struggle. In the Sea, The Sea, he is wrestling with his faith whilst enduring pain and, more importantly, his coming death. After struggle, the poem ends at a point where faith has been answered by love. Father Hugh told me that the young man died peacefully.

I think he gave me the poems at a point when my own faith was being tested but I also like to think that, in some way, he thought I might preserve them for others. I have often reproduced the other poem. It is now time for me to do my duty towards this one.

The Sea, The Sea

White foam splashes over bow of soul
lying storm-tossed in the waves of life,
unable to find that safe anchor
which breathes of peace and tranquillity.

Cast adrift, facing furious headwinds
of uncertainty, pain and doubt,
the boat of the soul plunges deep,
is cast high on crest of storm,
blind to that land where love
dwells waiting to hold still.

Is all lost? Will hell’s fury
stake her claim on all that is you?
Frozen by white horses ripping
over surface of cold, deep water.

You think so, yet in that moment
when ending seems to come
and mariner abandons all of hope,
there – walking on the water, radiant,
bright, He comes whom wind and wave obey
and fury spent spreads calm.

In that sweet moment of stillness
Following storm, through your eyes
he looks and says, What faith have you
that makes you fear and doubt?

You, suddenly becalmed and safe from storm
sink instead, into those arms
that hold you fast and look through eyes
that see no storm but glorious sunrise
shimmering over gentle waves,
sparkling with a new found love.

Anon.

Autumn Confetti

Autumn leaves falling as nature’s confetti, photographed by Gill Henwood.
As the year turns with the adjusting of our time clocks, Gill reflects.

Confetti, as the clocks go back

Scarlet startled me on the step,
Stopped me in my hurried tracks
to shelter from the rain storm.
Summer green hid below the exposed
upper canopy of spreading layers
still warm, still calm, still lush.

Flames ripped along leaves clinging
to the fine slender branches,
Autumn fires engulfed the dancers
spangling gold, orange, vermilion
Overwhelming viridian vigour.
Ruby shining leaves fell in their final
whirl to carpet the cold slate steps.
Clear water washing them away
sprinkled with rose petals

A christening of confetti
For their grave. Yet…
Resurrection will come
with the snowdrops.

[Gill Henwood]

A Spider goes to a Concert

Photo: detail of ceiling at the church of St Germain des Prés, Paris. [Mr G]

One of my pastimes is to be a ‘groupie’ with a local choir which includes friends. Last weekend we went to Paris where they presented two concerts and a musical involvement in the Saturday Mass at St Sulpice. It is currently acting as the Cathedral whilst Notre Dame is being restored. At the first concert, in the church of St Germain des Prés, some of the sopranos noticed a spider hovering over the choir as they sang. It had travelled quite a distance from the ceiling but by the end of the concert, it had disappeared. So I wrote this poem….

A Spider goes to a Concert.

Down came the Spider
Abseiling intrepidly,
hanging by its own thread,
precariously, from the church roof.
It stops.
Hovering over music ascending
from collective voices.
Sounds made by practiced singers.
“Look, a Spider”, a soprano points out
between pieces.
but the Concert builds to its
final crescendo.
No time to spend on Spiders.
As the music fades,
the concert ends and the Spider
is gone.

Not a Spider at all,
but an Angel,
taking up the music to heaven,
for God to enjoy!

[Mr. G.]

Inspired by a spider who came to a concert by
The Felicitas Choir at the church of St Germain des prés
Paris. 27^th Oct 2022)

Imitate the Hallowed ones.

All Hallows’ Eve – a time to Sparkle with light and love.

‘The Feast of All Pumpkins’ was one of the slightly irreverent names give by some to Harvest Festival.
Judging from the decorations which fill our shops, pubs and many homes, it is presumably a description that we could apply also to Halloween. Once again this is a day which has been hijacked by commercial interest and turned into something that was never intended. ‘Trick or Treat’ could be seen as a bit of harmless fun – taking over from Guy Fawkes night. After all what does the tradition of lighting a fire and setting off fireworks on November 5^th mean to most people today? – outside England, very little. The idea of blowing up Parliament would never occur to us today. Of course not!

The problem is that Halloween has long been associated with the occult, black magic and the darker side of life. A concentration on mock horror can quickly turn into real horror. A concentration on the dark side of life can have a negative effect on life. We are living through some very dark times on our world at present. Ukraine, the energy and cost of living crisis, economic uncertainty throughout the world, drought and famine and the way we are treating refugees, and the poor are all part of a darkness in humanity which creates a negativity that becomes the devil’s playground.

Try reading C S Lewis’s Screwtape Letters if you don’t get what I’m trying to say

However, like all negatives there is an opposite positive and it lies in the name of Halloween itself. ‘Halloween’ means The Eve of All Hallows. The word ‘Hallow’ means ‘Holy’ as in the traditional Lord’s Prayer – ’Hallowed be thy name.’
Halloween is the evening of the Feast Day of the Holy Ones of God – which is another way of describing the Saints.

All Saints’ Day is the glorious feast when we remember the Holy people who have perfumed the world with the fragrance of their holy lives and deep devotion to Christ. So Halloween is a time of preparing for All Saints Day.
This is not best done by thinking about ghosts, vampires and witches.

It is best done by quietly reflecting on those people whose faith has influenced our lives and who have shown something of the saintly qualities we are seek to imitate in our own lives. Few of us has grown in faith without the help of good and holy Christians. People who have encouraged us, taught and shown us something about God’s love, and reflected Christ-like love in their own lives. These are the people we should be thinking about at All Hallows and All Saints. Some are now with God and others are still here, quietly showing us what God means to them. We honour them but more than that, we honour Christ whom they show us.

A better use of Halloween is to praise God for such ‘saints’ and to pray that the holiness they show us might become a quality in our own lives.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heav’nly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen.

(Thomas Ken. b. 1674)

[Mr G]