A Future Not Our Own

Here is another Picture Reflection from my friend Joyce Smith.

The ponder quotation is attributed to Oscar Romero, the saint and martyr who died for his faith in El Salvador on 24th March, 1980 It is a thought contained in a very special prayer. The next words of the prayer are:

This enables us to do something and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

The Prayer, A Future Not our own,  is worth praying through slowly because it has much to say to our souls particularly in these days when we are perhaps impatient to  get on with things and frustrated, perhaps even despondent and in despair with the Covid restrictions.
May the prayer reflection  have something meaningful  for us.

Prayer…. A FUTURE NOT OUR OWN

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

Nothing we do is complete,
– which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No programme accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

That is what we are about.
We plant a seed that will one day grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realising that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning,
a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.

The prayer is known today as The Romero Prayer though, in truth, there is no evidence that he every prayed it! It was Cardinal Basil Hume who unwittingly first attributed it to St Oscar Romero. Delivering a paper at Westminster Cathedral on Catholic Education in 1997 he misattributed it. When the paper was subsequently published, the attribution remained and was taken up by CAFOD and Caritas Internationalis  in Rome. From then it went round the Global church and in the process became known as The Romero Prayer.
The prayer was actually composed by Bishop Ken Untener of Saginaw, who drafted it for a homily for the celebration of a departed priest. The homily was delivered by Cardinal John Deaden.
It has become established as the Romero Prayer mainly because, though St Oscar may not have written or prayed it, it could easily have been. It has the essence of the Saint’s own teaching, theology and spirituality.  It is no surprise therefore that it has been ‘owned’ by devotees of the Saint who find so much in his teaching and example to guide, form and enrich their own thinking and praying.

To pray this prayer and own it would go a long way to helping us to look at what it is happening to us and to our disfigured world, and placing everything and our future into God’s hands.
Under God we are indeed prophets of a future not our own. We are prophets, heralds and signs of a new future which is God’s. In the many issues in which humanity has tried to rule and dictate how we treat the Planet, we  are being called to work afresh with God to reclaim everything for a new vision of what it means to be stewards and cherishers of the amazing ‘gift of our stupendous earth.

Maybe this virus will come to be the turning point of a genuine global repentance as we return our planet back to God for His safekeeping.

[Mr G and Canon Joyce]

Snowbells

Galanthus ‘S.Arnott‘ photographed by Gill Henwood

Candlemass Bell peals out,
tender frame swinging in the winter wind,
pure and poised with
expectancy.
Its message tolling across ice and snow.
Another time is coming
warmer, more hopeful.

Galanthus waves gracefully
determined, scenting us with honey.
Points us to a future we long to reach towards
but dare not
until Simeon’s flower captivates us
and God, in the sounding peal of Nature,
holds us in his arms
and blesses us.

[Mr. G]

A Symbol made of Straw

Sunrise on St Brigid’s Day, February 1st 2021. Photo taken in the Lake District by my friend Gill Henwood

One of the highlights of a visit I once made to Ireland was to arrive at Kildare which was made famous by St. Brigid (sometimes known as Brigit, or Bride). She is said to have been baptized by Patrick and with him is known as Patron Saint of Ireland.  She founded a monastery there just after Patrick began to convert the Irish. Brigid’s monastery was a mixed house of women and men—something that was unknown outside Celtic lands. (They were more enlightened than most!)

Her feast day kept today, on February 1st, coincided with the pagan festival of Imbolc, the Celtic season that marked the coming of light after the dark days of winter. Once again, the Christian Church displayed ingenuity and common sense in replacing a pagan feast with a Christian one because Brigid’s day is quickly followed by Candlemass, the day when we celebrate Christ as the Light of the World—the light which overcomes darkness or to put it in the words of Simeon’s song the Nunc Dimittis: a light to lighten the Gentiles (non Jews).

There is a further connection between Brigid and the feast of Candlemass. Just as we are pointed, by Simeon’s prophecy, towards the Cross of Christ, so too is the story of Brigid connected to a Cross. The story goes that on a visit to a sick friend who was close to death, Brigid reached down and picked up pieces of straw from the floor of the cottage. As she prayed for healing she wove the straw into a simple square-braided cross and hung it in the rafters over the bed. The friend began to get better and the Cross became a symbol of this healing. Today, it is known as St Brigid’s Cross.

Christianity is often a faith of paradoxes and none more so than the connection of birth with death. At Candlemass we complete our Christmas celebration of Christ the Light and then begin our journey towards Holy Week and Our Lord’s death on the Cross. Yet there is nothing strange in this. Christ’s victory over the human heart, and the darkness which so often besets our lives, begins in the Christmas event but needs Calvary to complete it. There Christ’s love shine from the Cross and in the light of that love we can claim our place in God’s heart.

Brigid’s cross, woven from simple straw became a sign of healing and of life.  The straw of the Manger and the wood of the Cross, woven together, are symbols of our healing and salvation.  A salvation that  we Christians believe only Jesus Christ can offer.

[Mr G]

Cyclamen in the Snow

Cyclamen in fresh Snow photographed by my friend Gill Henwood in the Lake District.

Gill sent me this photograph a little while ago. It moved me very much at the darkest time of the year just as we were entering the 3rd Lockdown. At the time I couldn’t decide how to respond to it. There were allusions to lockdown, hope, struggle at a very difficult time for us. Gill used the word endurance.

As I continued to mull over it, I discussed it with my friend Piers and he came up with this reflection:

Initially I looked at this image and thought of the ice and snow as something that was holding the flowers back; through which they had to struggle – and this made me think of feelings thrown up by this current lockdown. But actually, as I thought more and read Geoffrey’s poem, it dawned on me that the ice and snow protect and insulate the seed as it germinates and emerges to flower. The struggle is filled with new hope and possibilities.
We tend to see being in lockdown as a negative, threatening thing but of course it’s a collective act in which we’re protecting each other and ourselves – and looked at that way it feels far more positive. And just as the dormant plant flowers to new life, we can also use it as a time to discover what is truly important: what values and priorities will help to sustain our lives, our society and our planet.
What if the snow and ice of lockdown are allowing us to emerge into really new life?

PN

Here’s a poem I have written on this photograph.

Lockdown wake-up

Earth’s untidy clutter
of hurried hibernation
covered over with scattered flakes
of heaven’s protection.
Opaque cloak of winter
wraps warmly around dormant seed.

Early buds break open crusty ground
scattering melted crystal.
Coloured life announces
Nature’s lockdown ended,
beckoning us to New Beginnings
at last!

Alleluia!

[Mr G]
Photo | Gill Henwood.
Reflection| Piers Northam