OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

I have praised The wonder of God's creatures With little thought For the design of crows Until now In this wild Seashore sanctuary The thrill frill Of outstretched wings Flapping elegance Like Joni On the cover Of Hejira Skating on ice Beautiful blackness Rising upon the uprush Of wind My soul in their ascent Uplifted to the highest heavens

 

This is shelter from the Winter rain, oasis in the spiritual desert of the time in which we live, refuge from ourselves and each other. During this brief hour of our day, we look straight ahead. We are a communion of every age and generation, blend of race and colour, a procession of the beautiful moving forward in the direction of Jesus. Everything else is put aside for now. Why would we not avail of this time of respite that clears the soul, the mind, and the heart. Why would we not avail of it and give rest to our busied burdened bodies. The Cathedral is full this Sunday morning, Feast of the Baptism of Jesus, and we are filled again with hope, peace, love, and joy. Outside is America, as U2 sang in ‘Bullet The Blue Sky,’ the America that we have loved, admired, and imitated. The America that was a kind of mother and father and protector of the world order. America now fills us with fear, anxiety, anger and, above all, a profound sadness. We talk of little else and if we talk of...

  "Let the one who is without sin be the first to cast a stone." I am the woman Discovered undercover Caught in the act Exhumed from hiding Beneath skin and flesh The secret desirings Of heart and mind I am the boy Who took refuge there A place of escape And safe solace My habitual habitation I am every one Who exists on the outside The other side of right And there is nothing That will not be revealed In the end And this is my end The law abiding strong Throng my orthodox accuser With only one solution The right of righteousness I am petrified Panic stricken stood bowed Barely able to breathe What will the first Struck stone feel like? What part of me Will bleed and break Before I am all blood broken Bone splintered? I gasp for air For life But God is God The One who alone is Good Stands upright Sees all that I am - ALL - Absorbs me into Himself Bends down So that my bending Now has no more shame in it And the Law  That once was carved In stone He now inscribes  In soil ...

Farewell Homily for Fr Eamonn Monson (Readings: Ezekiel 47 : 1-2, 8-9, 12 | 1 Cor 3 : 9-11, 16-17 | John 2 : 13-22) It’s not easy to say goodbye to someone like  Fr Eamonn Monson  — not just because of the years he’s spent with us, but because of  how  he’s spent them: fully, generously, and at times delightfully unpredictably… especially if you happen to be a pigeon. Yes, it’s fair to say that Fr Eamonn has always had a generous heart — and apparently a generous spare room too. One pigeon took up residence in the presbytery, another decided the church itself would do nicely and most recently a pair started hanging out in the porch Whether they came seeking spiritual guidance or just good company, who’s to say? But they clearly recognised a kind soul when they saw one. The River of Life – Ezekiel 47 In the first reading, the prophet  Ezekiel  sees a trickle of water flowing from the Temple — a stream that grows deeper and wider until it becomes a river brin...