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CATHEDRAL (Shelter from the Winter Rain)

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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...
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No More Shame (Mercy)

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  "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 ...
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Farewell Homily for Fr Eamonn Monson by Deacon Duncan Brown

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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...
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FESTIVAL OF THE UNEXCEPTIONAL: Celebrating the Ordinary

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We were talking about cars. The flash sporty ones and car shows that he attended. He has a lot of knowledge. I don’t. But I’ve loved all cars since I was a boy. There weren’t that many of them in Mervue in the 1960’s. Enough, though, for me to fill a notebook with their registration numbers, make and model. Ordinary cars of ordinary people. Of the sixteen homes in Ceannt Avenue, there were four or five cars and I would tell friends that my Dad was getting one next year. A pale blue Anglia, like the one uncle Josie had. It never happened! In our teen years Mam would lament the fact that we were still “the walking Monsons”. Back to the conversation with my friend! He told me about the Festival of the Unexceptional that he attended, a car show at which they celebrate the ordinary cars of ordinary people who tell of the significance of their particular vehicle in their lives. I looked it up online. Fabulous! It strikes me that Christianity is a Festival of Unexceptional, ordinary people w...
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I LIVE TO SERVE - In Loving Memory of Father Emmanuel Msuri

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  We stand in the temple of our reality, in the presence of God, like the two men in the Gospel. What brings us close to God has been given us. The One who is close to the broken-hearted has humbled us with sorrow so that we might come near to Him. There are two things that bring us into intimate union with Him – the humbled contrite heart of the sinner who cries out for Mercy and the humbled heart that is broken by sorrow. Heart-broken. One prays, “O God be merciful to me a sinner” and the other simply says “O God…” We are shocked and heart-broken by the unexpected death, at the age of forty-seven, of Father Emmanuel Msuri whose arrival here in Hastings we have been waiting for with great anticipation. This was to be another kind of Advent; the meaning of his name not lost on us. Emmanuel – God is with us. He was not known personally to any of the parishioners, with the exception of Alexandra who, as leader of the welcoming group had been in contact with him by email. But, t...
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YOU SURROUND ME

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Camino Hermit In the shadow Of Your Wings In the shelter Of Your Tent You are My Hiding Place O Lord You surround me Cloister of my seeking Silence of my desire A man alone With The One Nomad on a journey Hermit in the city I am nothing and everything Absent and present Nowhere and anywhere Solitude of Communion In You  Who are The One You are the All In whom all are found
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HIS MOST SACRED HUMANITY (Fanned into flame)

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And I clearly see that if we expect to please him and receive an abundance of his graces, God desires that these graces must come to us from the hands of Christ, through his most sacred humanity, in which God takes delight. (Teresa Of Avila) Mondays I feel spent, not knowing what to do with myself, not knowing how to do nothing, yet not having the energy to do anything. A walk is a good idea and it’s a beautiful day. And what a delight it is to meet Mary down the seafront walking her grandson. She always energises me, and we walk together chatting animatedly all the way up to London Road in St. Leonards. From there it’s back to the Pier where I find a bench facing towards Hastings. In spite of the sunshine, the wind is cold against the back of my head, so I pull up my hood and sit there like a monk, pondering. The Irish hymn, I arise today – based on the Breastplate of St. Patrick - is stirring in me. “Stability of earth…firmness of rock..” My gaze fixed on the West and East hills an...
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