Tag: Jesus

An angel called my name

Joseph’s dream. Vatican news.
Copyright © 2017-2025 Dicasterium pro Communicatione – All rights reserved.

On March 19th, the Church remembered St. Joseph, husband to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Though often rather like the ‘man in background’, Joseph played a vital and significant role in the birth of Jesus and did so in obedience to the will of God.
God communicated that will through the message of an angel and did so on 4 occasions. These dreams are all narrated by the writer of St. Matthew’s Gospel. (Chapter 1 verse 18ff, and Chapter 2)
In the first dream the angel assures Joseph that, despite his misgivings, it is God who has chosen him to be Mary’s husband and watch over her as she is pregnant with the son of God, Jesus. He is to be the protector, guide and provider of love and security to the Holy Family, to Jesus in his infancy.

The other dreams are instructions from God. In the 2nd dream, Joseph is warned to flee with Mary and Jesus when King Herod ordered the massacre of the innocent babies and young children in order to do away with the one who might be a threat to Herod’s kingdom. Joseph flees to Egypt. The third dream tells Joseph that Herod’s death means it is safe to return home but the 4th dream tells Joseph that there is still some possibility of harm so Joseph must avoid Judea and settle instead in Galilee.

Taking the theme of the first dream, a friend wrote a poem which she gave to me as a special gift. I have her permission to make it known to others, so here it is.

Joseph’s Carol ~ An Angel called my name

Blessed am I, blessed of all men.
When dark had quenched the light of day
A holy angel came; an angel called my name
I am not good, not free from sin,
Yet, as I slept and dreaming lay
An angel called my name.

A simple artisan, someone
Of humble birth, thinks not to see
A holy angel bright. An angel came that night
Through cool moonlight to sleeping world,
From cloud-streaked sky to speak to me,
An angel came that night.

Though humble, yet I count as one
Whose lineage of David came.
The angel seemed so near: the angel voice was clear:
“And Mary shall bring forth a Son.
God wills that Jesus be his name”
The angel voice was clear.

And when that Holy Child was born,
In Bethlehem, of David’s line,
The angels came to see. The angel melody
the dark sky filled. So from that dawn
I played my part in God’s design.
Oh God. My thanks to Thee.

(by Julia Edmonds)

[Mr G]

The whole earth cries ‘Glory!’

Double rainbow, Hawkshead. Photo by Gill Henwood

My friend Gill Henwood sent me this photograph today of a double rainbow over Hawkshead in the Lake District.
It brought to mind a Lenten Prayer which tells of the mystery of God and the revelation of creative power. The rainbow is an amazing example of that! There is another message which is pertinent to the season of Lent which is a contrasting of the beautiful awakening of Spring and the celebration of new life with the negativity of human life right now.
Though we are a key part of creation (though by no means all of it!), there is a wonder and breathtaking beauty all around us of which we could so easily miss. It is only when we recognize and pay homage to God our creator that the hope of the earth springing to vibrant life becomes new joy for us. The darkness of human deeds is eclipsed when we put our trust and faith in God who re-creates us and the whole world, from within.The whole earth cries ‘Glory!’ We are bidden to join in.

The prayer-poem is by Ruth Burgess and Chris Polhill from their collection of Lent and Easter resources, ‘Eggs and Ashes’, published by Wild Goose Publications (Iona)

[Mr G}

Mysterious God,
morning, noon and night reveal your creative power;
around us the whole earth cries glory.
Your presence beats in our blood, children of creation!
Yet we go on our way, deaf to the larks above the track,
looking down into the mud and not up into the clear sky.
And even then, we miss the myriad small signs of hope:
the crocus opening its heart to the sun,
colours of sea-washed stones, rainbows in the midst.
we despair so easily.
We say: ‘where is God in all this?’
and we deny it has any meaning.
We say: ‘God is dead.’
We cannot find or feel the pulse of your life in us.
We put our shaky faith in things we have made,
we give cringing power to the institutions.
we give up on ourselves, saying ‘We are no good’.
we live in ways that says: ‘There is no God.’
And the song of creation turns to dust and ashes on our lips.
Forgive us.
Dust we are – and to dust we shall return.

But, in Jesus, you chose to share our human frailty,
to enter into our mortality in all its mystery,
to redeem this handful of dust.
We are yours – and to you we shall return.
Amen.

~ Ruth Burgess & Chris Polhill ~

Crocus at No.18. Photo: Mr G

{Wild Goose Publications give permission for non-commercial use of material from
Eggs & Ashes’, copyright Ruth Burgess & Chris Polhill.
The full collection together with many other excellent resources and publications
are available from Wild Goose Publications, the publishing arm of the Iona Community.
Please visit their website for further details.]

Salvation ~ a Candlemas tale

SALVATION ~ a Candlemas tale.

[St Luke 2:28-40]

Joshua and I, Ahuz*, are doorkeepers of the Temple.
We greet people and try to make them welcome.
There are visitors and strangers and, of course, we have our regulars.
Like that old man over by the corner of sacrifice.
We don’t know where he lives but it must be nearby.
He’s always here as soon as the doors are open.

Then there’s Anna who seems to live in the Temple, in a dark, quiet place.
We know her because she has good connections.
She comes from the tribe of Asher and she’s the daughter of Phanuel and she’s a prophet, they say.

We’ve found out that the old man is called Simeon.
He has a stillness about him which suggests that he’s a man of prayer.
He behaves as if he loves God, which is more than most who come here!
Others are more like politicians, self-seekers, people who believe not in God but in their own religious importance.

Old Simeon has just noticed me and he smiles and bows towards me, making me feel human, wanted, needed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the daughter of Phanuel who comes and grasps my cold hands and rubs them warm. It’s a kind gesture of gratitude for letting her wait.

I don’t really know what they are both waiting for but there is always an expectation about them.
I once asked the old man, Simeon, “What are you doing here? What are you waiting for?”
“Salvation”, he said quietly, “and a peaceful death.”

‘Salvation’, isn’t a word we hear in the Temple these days!
That’s what Joshua said, when I told him. “I reckon they’re on a fool’s errand.”
“Maybe”, I tell him, “but I’m not so sure. There’s a holiness about him and Anna, too. There’s wisdom as well, without any trace of self-boasting. They know things we don’t.”
Joshua laughed. “I’ve told you, they’re wasting precious time. They haven’t much left.”

Then, it happened. A young woman and a caring man came into the Temple, carrying a little vulnerable baby.  Purification. It’s like a thanksgiving after childbirth and an act of dedication.
So they made their offering to God and then Simeon shuffled to stand next to them. Anna drew near as well. Interesting! Is this what they were waiting for? Odd, though. How could a baby bring Salvation and hope?

Simeon took the child into his arms and praised God.
I quietly moved towards them, just as the old man began to speak.  “…let me go in peace…I have seen your Salvation…” Love shone in his eyes and in Anna, too.
I couldn’t make sense of it. How could a mere child be God’s fulfilment?
Simeon spoke again of the child, who would be God’s light not only to us, the Jewish people, but also to Gentiles – non-Jews.
You could see that the young couple were as perplexed as I was, but there was more. It was like a prophecy, about a future event, something about conflict the child would cause, some choosing for him, others against him. He would see into every heart; speaking of which, the young lady would also have her heart pierced as if by a sword. It would, without doubt, be a sword of pain and sadness but she seemed to smile a little as if she knew something we didn’t.
Why didn’t Simeon’s word worry her? Nothing would break up her serenity. It was as if she already seemed to live with God.

Then Anna took the child from Simeon’s hands and held him close, cherishing the one of  whom the prophets had spoken. They called him ‘The Messiah’ but this child was called, Jesus.
Where they the same? Was he the one for whom, in the depths of all our hearts we too have been waiting?

For a moment, as we all stood facing the child, the Temple was filled with silence, but it was such a stillness that it felt as though it trembled with the very breath of God.

Salvation had come to the Temple that day. I, Ahuv*, found it in that little child and, like myriads who came to recognize him, I was changed and loved and saved!

[Mr G. Candlemass 2025]

*Ahuv translates as “being loved” or “beloved.” The word ahuv comes from the Hebrew root aleph-hei-vet, which means, “to love.”

Emerging Love

Hawkshead Church in early morning mist. Photo by Gill Henwood.

This photo was taken by my friend, Gill Henwood and is of Hawkshead Church emerging from the morning mist.
This mist speaks to me of ‘revealing’, of something that will become clearer as the mist rises; of a beauty present but not yet fully defined.

Today is the time the Christian Church remembers the Conversion of St. Paul, the moment when all that clouded his mind and darkened his thoughts, were lifted by an encounter with the Risen Christ.
We are told of it in the Book of Acts, chapter 9 verses 1 to 19.

Paul or as he was then known, Saul, a zealous Jewish Rabbi, had made it his mission to persecute Christians, those Jews who had chosen to follow the teaching of the Apostles about Jesus. He was responsible for the death and imprisonment of many and was thus thwarting the work of proclaiming the Good News of Jesus.

Something had to be done to stop him and it was the Risen Christ who did so. As Paul travelled along the road to Damascus, the Risen Christ  appeared and light flashed around him. Paul was blinded by the light and fell to the ground. It was as if a dark mist enveloped him and in the darkness Jesus challenged him, Why are you persecuting me?’ Paul asked who he was and the revelation came to him that it was Jesus.
Paul’s heart was converted but though his eyes were opened, he could still not see. First, his spiritual blindness had to be lifted; something Jesus arranged and then Paul became the great champion of Christianity he was destined by God to be.

For me there is something autobiographical in Paul’s famous passage in his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13.
Having written his classic definition of ‘love’, He made the point that only love will carry us through to the heart of God and that is both our faith and hope.
He referred back to his own lack of understanding of the power of God’s love (verse 8 following) and reminds us that on our spiritual journey we move, often haltingly, to a deeper knowledge of love, as God shares His divine love with us. At first our perception of God’s love is as if we are looking through a mirror dimly’ or as the King James Version puts it, through a glass darkly, but then, as God continues to reveal his Love to us, we shall one day meet Him as Love face to face.

Gill’s photograph of Hawkshead Church suggests to me another illustration of this. Our experience of God’s love for us, may seem at times to be as if we are looking through the mist of understanding. It contains all that will be revealed but we must let God work in our souls as he did in Paul’s. Then, slowly but surely, the mist will lift and the glorious vision will open our eyes and our hearts to a deep and abiding love.
In the photo we already see the promise coming clearer. The scene contains all that needs to be revealed. So that is for us. If we open ourselves to the possibility of God lifting from us all that prevents His love to flourish, then it will become a reality.

The Conversion of Saint Paul

Brooding mist 
blurs edges of perception.
Colours muted.
A whisper of wind kisses the air
rippling through the soul.
Visibility impaired,
a cloak of quietness drawn across the mind.
Stilling all movement.
Intentions passionately  held,
melt into deep darkness.
Yet this is not the cause of fearfulness 
nor of despair.
Out of the shadows,
of seeing “through a glass darkly”
there is a pinprick of growing light
which slowly, perceptively,
burns away the haze
as new vision takes shape.

A Voice,
crisp, gently directive,
unfettered by illusion,
beckons,
touching  eyes to see a wonder,
“face to face.”
The waypath is irrevocably changed.

[Mr. G. Conversion of Paul. 25th January ]