OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Strangers who became friends in the Desert Love the stranger, for you were strangers…” ( Deuteronomy 10) This phrase has been in my prayer for the past few days and it connects well with the Gospel of the Good Samaritan which has been chosen as the theme for Christian Unity week 2024. And I have the honour of preaching on this theme at St. Clement's Church of England here in the Old Town. It is a first for me - preaching in a church that is not Roman Catholic. I'm very grateful to Father Mat for inviting me. Love the stranger, for you were strangers…”  Both parts of the phrase are important, though we tend to focus on the first. The obligation to love the other which we all take seriously. St. Catherine of Siena had a mystical experience in which she was taken up to Heaven where she experienced the fullness of life and joy in the presence of God. After a while Jesus told her "It's time for you to go back." And when she protested He said, "I need you to go...

  Dawn broke beautifully over a white-frosted Mervue, the sun shivering through naked trees. Fog rising further out in the fields, diffusing a soft light. Evelyn drove me to Shannon for my return trip to Hastings. After two weeks away I know it’s time to get back and, however much I fantasize about retirement, I know it wouldn’t suit me at all. Not yet! Mary Moore’s funeral kept me home a few days longer – five days! It was an honour to be the priest celebrating her requiem. Her death has startled us her contemporaries. And it brought us together. It made us think. Especially since she is the second of our generation in Mervue to die within the space a of week. It has, of course, also awakened the feeling of loss in relation to our Maura. Her death almost twenty-five years ago. Mary was seventy-one years old, as Maura would be if she were here now. They were school mates; friends and I was part of that friendship especially in our teens when I spent many happy times in Coynes...

I followed my Love In hidden places With burning desire To be His silent guest My head upon His breast I followed my Love By country streams And island shores To breathless mountain peaks To hear His Spirit speak I followed my Love To His sanctuary where I found myself in prayer And longed for Him To keep me there