Sunday, 27 November 2011
Naughty me
Well, I have been a naughty girl, haven't I! No postings lately. Today's the first day of the church's year - 1st Sunday in Advent - and I'm going to try to read some of the Divine Office as a preparation for Christmas. Well, it's nearly 4pm and I haven't started yet,not even Morning Prayer, so I'd better say goodbye and start praying. Bye.
Sunday, 24 April 2011
Happy Easter
Maundy Thursday
Beautiful Mass. It's my favourite day of the year. I just love everything about it. The Eucharist is so precious to me. And I had my feet washed, which I find such a humbling experience. Drove home thinking I was in love with all the world.
Good Friday
I always find this a bit harrowing. My least favourite service of the year. It's so stark. Sad readings. Departing in silence at the end. This year our priest led the service at our sister church, so a parishioner led us. He did it beautifully and solemnly.
Easter Vigil
Couldn't go to our morning Mass as we are to travel to Scotland soon for a few days break, so went to the Vigil at the sister church last night. Big mistake. It took place at 7pm and the fire and paschal candle were lit outside in brilliant sunshine. The prayers about Christ dispelling our darkness lost their impact. Before Mass I noticed all the candles were lit in the church, so just before the start I went to the sacristy and told the priest. He went rushing out and blew out the two on the main altar, but left the six at the back alight. Oh well. Then a woman screeched through the Exultet, and the organist seemed all over the place. After Thursday's euphoria I was trying to be reverent and get what I could out of the service. I decided the singer and organist were probably very lovely people. They might have known their inadequacies, but they were the only musicians available, and were humbly doing their best. I'll never know the truth, but it helped me accept our human condition, and how much God loves us.
It's funny how moods can change. Liturgy plays a big part in it. We are so fortunate at our church that we have a musical family who prepare the music and lead us in it.
we are not a particularly 'reverent' parish, in that we are so friendly and chat chat chat before and after the services. This is so unlike the retreat place we went to where people arrived for Mass a good ten minutes early and prayed in stillness and silence (then a little soft music) until the service started. Both models of church are good. I just love our church, and it's not really possible to have both models at once, I suppose.
Anyway, Happy Easter one and all. Christ is alive, and we are alive in him.
Beautiful Mass. It's my favourite day of the year. I just love everything about it. The Eucharist is so precious to me. And I had my feet washed, which I find such a humbling experience. Drove home thinking I was in love with all the world.
Good Friday
I always find this a bit harrowing. My least favourite service of the year. It's so stark. Sad readings. Departing in silence at the end. This year our priest led the service at our sister church, so a parishioner led us. He did it beautifully and solemnly.
Easter Vigil
Couldn't go to our morning Mass as we are to travel to Scotland soon for a few days break, so went to the Vigil at the sister church last night. Big mistake. It took place at 7pm and the fire and paschal candle were lit outside in brilliant sunshine. The prayers about Christ dispelling our darkness lost their impact. Before Mass I noticed all the candles were lit in the church, so just before the start I went to the sacristy and told the priest. He went rushing out and blew out the two on the main altar, but left the six at the back alight. Oh well. Then a woman screeched through the Exultet, and the organist seemed all over the place. After Thursday's euphoria I was trying to be reverent and get what I could out of the service. I decided the singer and organist were probably very lovely people. They might have known their inadequacies, but they were the only musicians available, and were humbly doing their best. I'll never know the truth, but it helped me accept our human condition, and how much God loves us.
It's funny how moods can change. Liturgy plays a big part in it. We are so fortunate at our church that we have a musical family who prepare the music and lead us in it.
we are not a particularly 'reverent' parish, in that we are so friendly and chat chat chat before and after the services. This is so unlike the retreat place we went to where people arrived for Mass a good ten minutes early and prayed in stillness and silence (then a little soft music) until the service started. Both models of church are good. I just love our church, and it's not really possible to have both models at once, I suppose.
Anyway, Happy Easter one and all. Christ is alive, and we are alive in him.
Saturday, 2 April 2011
Stations of the Cross
What I got most out of the retreat was a renewed exciting relationship with Christ. But I'm not ready to talk about that, anonymous though this blog be. Another thing was, I thought I ought to be more alert to what God wants me to do, and not shy away from 'doing' things for God.
Well, back in my parish I got a challenge.Our priest is still recuperating from two big operations, and the visiting priest said surely someone could organise Stations. So I did! So did another person, so Paul does Tuesdays and I do Fridays. I created my own prayers. They really relate to everyday life, so are quite a change from the traditional ones that Paul uses. But as the people attending are all older members of the church I made sure we sang, 'At the Cross' and 'All ye who seek a comfort sure' as well, to make sure they didn't feel too disoriented. The first two times I did it there were 8 people present, but last night there were twelve. Paul is only getting two people. I think this is partly because Friday is more traditionally a day of penance, and also, Paul is ultra-traditional, hankering after the Latin Mass, and refusing to exchange the Sign of Peace at Mass. I'm not crowing. Popularity means nothing. Jesus wasn't very popular at the end.
Actually, this was the parting shot from my spiritual guide at the retreat - if we start doing God's work we will not be popular.
Well, back in my parish I got a challenge.Our priest is still recuperating from two big operations, and the visiting priest said surely someone could organise Stations. So I did! So did another person, so Paul does Tuesdays and I do Fridays. I created my own prayers. They really relate to everyday life, so are quite a change from the traditional ones that Paul uses. But as the people attending are all older members of the church I made sure we sang, 'At the Cross' and 'All ye who seek a comfort sure' as well, to make sure they didn't feel too disoriented. The first two times I did it there were 8 people present, but last night there were twelve. Paul is only getting two people. I think this is partly because Friday is more traditionally a day of penance, and also, Paul is ultra-traditional, hankering after the Latin Mass, and refusing to exchange the Sign of Peace at Mass. I'm not crowing. Popularity means nothing. Jesus wasn't very popular at the end.
Actually, this was the parting shot from my spiritual guide at the retreat - if we start doing God's work we will not be popular.
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
Hello again.
It's been so long since I posted that I keep putting off starting again, as I don't know where to start. There. I've started. Next post will be easier. Hope everyone is well. I fell fantastic thank God. A long silent retreat with husband has contributed to this. More next time.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Greater Love Than This
Today is Armistice Day. My dad was in Norway at one time in the army, and he used to tell us this tale -
He was on duty one night, and was walking in pitch blackness through the snow. He walked a bit further than he should have gone, and heard a voice calling, 'Go back. Go back.' He ignored it for a while, but then decided to return to (wherever he had to return to) The next morning he retraced his footprints, and found they stopped just before a really deep ravine. He eventually discovered that the 'Go back' was the call of a grouse, distorted in the night, but he liked to say it was his guardian angel keeping him safe.
So many people are killed in war, and it is still going on. As the song says, 'When will they ever learn.'
We owe so much to brave men and women, but the strange thing is - anyone with an ounce of patriotism says the same - and inevitably they will be people of opposing sides. We all think we're right. A German lady once told my husband, that in Germany they call people of her age, 'The Fatherless Generation. Tragedy on all sides.
I live in safety, and my children too. The grandchildren are too young to worry about, but in ten or so years they may be called to serve their country.
In the meantime, people are giving their lives to their families in lots of little ways every day. Wherever there is love there will be little acts of self-sacrifice.
My parish priest was chatting to me the other day, upset because more people don't come to weekday services. He was talking about being pessimistic over human nature, but optimistic about God's mercy. I think he needs to recognise that these non-weekday churchgoers are good people. They are working hard for their families, and when they get home they need to recuperate.
I said I was retired, but don't go to the evening Mass as the church is a twenty minute drive away, and it digs in to the evening. We have our main meal in the evening, and no way do I want to start cooking a meal at 7.30pm.
Right, I know this sounds pathetic, especially as I've been talking about the great sacrifices of people during the war, and maybe I'll rethink my stance, but my position at the moment is - I can (and do) pray at home. OK, it's not with the community, and a church needs a visible presence, but I get a lot out of meditating quietly on my own.
One day I'll have to write what I mean by meditating, as there are several different definitions.
In the meantime, a prayer for those killed in war.
He was on duty one night, and was walking in pitch blackness through the snow. He walked a bit further than he should have gone, and heard a voice calling, 'Go back. Go back.' He ignored it for a while, but then decided to return to (wherever he had to return to) The next morning he retraced his footprints, and found they stopped just before a really deep ravine. He eventually discovered that the 'Go back' was the call of a grouse, distorted in the night, but he liked to say it was his guardian angel keeping him safe.
So many people are killed in war, and it is still going on. As the song says, 'When will they ever learn.'
We owe so much to brave men and women, but the strange thing is - anyone with an ounce of patriotism says the same - and inevitably they will be people of opposing sides. We all think we're right. A German lady once told my husband, that in Germany they call people of her age, 'The Fatherless Generation. Tragedy on all sides.
I live in safety, and my children too. The grandchildren are too young to worry about, but in ten or so years they may be called to serve their country.
In the meantime, people are giving their lives to their families in lots of little ways every day. Wherever there is love there will be little acts of self-sacrifice.
My parish priest was chatting to me the other day, upset because more people don't come to weekday services. He was talking about being pessimistic over human nature, but optimistic about God's mercy. I think he needs to recognise that these non-weekday churchgoers are good people. They are working hard for their families, and when they get home they need to recuperate.
I said I was retired, but don't go to the evening Mass as the church is a twenty minute drive away, and it digs in to the evening. We have our main meal in the evening, and no way do I want to start cooking a meal at 7.30pm.
Right, I know this sounds pathetic, especially as I've been talking about the great sacrifices of people during the war, and maybe I'll rethink my stance, but my position at the moment is - I can (and do) pray at home. OK, it's not with the community, and a church needs a visible presence, but I get a lot out of meditating quietly on my own.
One day I'll have to write what I mean by meditating, as there are several different definitions.
In the meantime, a prayer for those killed in war.
'Eternal rest, give unto them, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace. Amen.'
Saturday, 6 November 2010
Oops.
Maybe that's where I am at the moment. I think that's it.
Anyway, hubby and I have booked up an 8 day silent retreat. That should sort me out ;-)
It's not until next year, but we're looking forward to it very much. One of the spiritual directors is Gerard Hughes, the well-known writer. I find him quite inspiring. I would love it if he was my director for the week, but I'm sure the Holy Spirit will give me the person just right for me (and for hubby)
Saturday, 9 October 2010
Beautiful on the Mountain
Right. Now we're coming to a lovely way of thinking about the church. Church as Herald. This goes way back to Jesus' command before his Ascension.' Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.'
It's a very outward looking model. No standing still. There's a whole world out there, and it needs to know the Good News that God loves us.
I know lots of people that act from this model. There's Cicely, who used to stand at Speakers' Corner, and brave all the hecklers. She really knew her stuff. And in Sheffield last Saturday, there was a little black lady, doing her best to be heard above the street musicians. (Quick note here - the musicians spoke to me of God too)
As well as individuals there are whole communities that take this model on board. I think it suits the American temperament better than the reserved English.
I am actually Irish, and quite an introvert. I will obviously speak up for God (as if God needed my defence!) and everyone knows where I am coming from, but I have a horror of pushing religion down people's throats. I know that when the Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons come knocking I do not receive them with an open mind. So why would people put up with me?
I am a happily married wife, mother and grandmother, but if I were anything else it would be a nun in an enclosed order, spending my life in prayer. It's some consolation that St Theresa of Lisieux is called the Patron Saint of the Missions, and she spent her short life doing ordinary things extraordinarily well, tucked away in her convent. She was also a Herald.
Actually, Herald on its own is a bit strange. Who decides on the interpretation of Scripture? People claim strange things that the Holy Spirit is said to have told them, but they often differ. This is where good old Institution comes into play. The institutionalised church sorted out what is Scripture in the first place, and as Catholics we have a wealth of tradition interpreting what it all means. I'm not denigrating personal insights. These are so important. But what about that pastor in America, who wanted to instigate 'Burn a Koran' day? Sheer bigotry. And done in God's name. Blasphemous.
It can also lead to a sort of triumphalism. 'We're right. Listen to us.' (Oops. I'm probably falling in to this trap myself by writing this blog. Only in my defence, I'm just meandering around, thinking aloud.)
Churches who see their mission as Herald also need to aware that they also need to look inwards. Their own community needs building up. As a Catholic I see this fulfilled in the Mass, which feeds us with Scripture and the bread of life, then sends us out.
I haven't got a photo of beautiful feet on a mountain (surprise surprise) but I have one of my grandson in his new football boots. I think that's an appropriate sign for Church as Herald. All kitted up and ready to go!
It's a very outward looking model. No standing still. There's a whole world out there, and it needs to know the Good News that God loves us.
I know lots of people that act from this model. There's Cicely, who used to stand at Speakers' Corner, and brave all the hecklers. She really knew her stuff. And in Sheffield last Saturday, there was a little black lady, doing her best to be heard above the street musicians. (Quick note here - the musicians spoke to me of God too)
As well as individuals there are whole communities that take this model on board. I think it suits the American temperament better than the reserved English.
I am actually Irish, and quite an introvert. I will obviously speak up for God (as if God needed my defence!) and everyone knows where I am coming from, but I have a horror of pushing religion down people's throats. I know that when the Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons come knocking I do not receive them with an open mind. So why would people put up with me?
I am a happily married wife, mother and grandmother, but if I were anything else it would be a nun in an enclosed order, spending my life in prayer. It's some consolation that St Theresa of Lisieux is called the Patron Saint of the Missions, and she spent her short life doing ordinary things extraordinarily well, tucked away in her convent. She was also a Herald.
Actually, Herald on its own is a bit strange. Who decides on the interpretation of Scripture? People claim strange things that the Holy Spirit is said to have told them, but they often differ. This is where good old Institution comes into play. The institutionalised church sorted out what is Scripture in the first place, and as Catholics we have a wealth of tradition interpreting what it all means. I'm not denigrating personal insights. These are so important. But what about that pastor in America, who wanted to instigate 'Burn a Koran' day? Sheer bigotry. And done in God's name. Blasphemous.
It can also lead to a sort of triumphalism. 'We're right. Listen to us.' (Oops. I'm probably falling in to this trap myself by writing this blog. Only in my defence, I'm just meandering around, thinking aloud.)
Churches who see their mission as Herald also need to aware that they also need to look inwards. Their own community needs building up. As a Catholic I see this fulfilled in the Mass, which feeds us with Scripture and the bread of life, then sends us out.
I haven't got a photo of beautiful feet on a mountain (surprise surprise) but I have one of my grandson in his new football boots. I think that's an appropriate sign for Church as Herald. All kitted up and ready to go!
Footnote (lol) I have had a few religious books published, in my real name too, so I'm doing my little bit of heralding in this way, hopefully.
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