OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

St. Vincent Pallotti speaks about being “immersed in an immense sea of Divine Mercy.” One of the words the Bible uses to define Mercy is rechem which is a Mother’s womb, indicating that God’s instinct is like that of a Mother for the child in her womb, though God’s instinct is of course infinitely greater and all perfect.  Hesed also expresses the tender, faithful, loving mercy of God, which is described as the feeling a Mother has when she leans over her baby to feed him or her.  “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or lack compassion for the child of her womb? Even if these forget, yet I will not forget you.” (Isaiah 49:15) Pope St. John Paul II uses this phrase in a meditation on how Jesus experiences the Fatherhood of God. The Pope says that the Fatherhood of God is often expressed in terms of Motherhood in some of the prophecies of the Old Testament. “As one whom his Mother comforts, so will I comfort you.” (Isaiah 66:13) and our attitude in t...

The first day of springtime breaks with heavy clouds as I set out along the A27 from Hastings to Crawley for a meeting of priests. I used to dislike this road intensely but I’ve become accustomed to it now and take it as it comes, take the traffic as it is, though this morning it’s not bad at all. On the radio they’re talking about “The Terrible Sonnets” of Gerard Manley Hopkins, the 19 th century English Jesuit priest and poet whom I became quite fond of when still at school. The Terrible Sonnets were written in Ireland, a place where he felt exiled and suffered from depression, a condition I have struggled with for many years, maybe even since I was a child. “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day” he wrote. I know this feeling well. But I smile at the thought of exile, living away from one’s homeland which for Hopkins was like oppressive captivity whereas for me I feel free. This is what I think in the silence after the radio has been turned off. Along the way I...

“ But at the centre of his own faith there always stood the convincing mystery - that we were made in God ’ s image. God was the parent, but he was also the policeman, the criminal, the priest, the maniac, and the judge…and God ’ s image shook now, up and down on the mule ’ s back, with the yellow teeth sticking out over the lower lip, and ...he pressed his hand with a kind of driven tenderness upon the shoulders of God ’ s image. ” (Graham Greene, ‘The Power and The Glory') It's midnight and Liam is asleep, wrapped in a duvet, his head resting on Ivan’s shoulder. A Buddhist and a Christian. That piece of information was shared when they exchanged names more than three hours ago. The concern that brought them together has now become inconvenient as the cold bites and the rain has long since penetrated to the skin. Ivan feels odd in these situations and wonders was it a mistake to have gotten involved in the first place. He is a private, solitary man who likes to walk ...

Moses named his firstborn Gershom because, he said "I am a stranger in a foreign land." Another translation uses the word sojourner, which I prefer. It's what happens to us in Lent - we go deeper as sojourner into the foreign regions of our soul, that part of us that we do not normally inhabit because it is essentially solitary and silent. Sometimes  it's more painful than we can bear. And there too we encounter fears that tell us lies to keep us as far away as possible from our true selves and from God. But as Jesus was led by and filled with the Holy Spirit, so are we. Our foreign experiences, our deserts are filled with the same Holy Spirit. A song that has echoed in me since I was a child - "this world is not my home, I'm just a passin through" - expresses the reality that I have always to some extent experienced myself as a stranger sojourner, a reluctant inhabitant of this earth with a sense of unbelonging.  That is not to say that I a...

“Give to everyone who asks you, and do not ask for your property back from the man who robs you .” In the scheme of things, it’s not that big a deal. No one died or was injured. When we came to celebrate Mass on Tuesday morning our lovely crucifix was missing and nowhere to be found. Presumed stolen! My concern was that this was becoming a pattern because the previous week it was our most precious chalice (other chalices have been taken in the past) which was discovered later for sale in a shop. The embarrassed owner gave it back for nothing. When something is stolen from us we feel it like an invasion and when something sacred or holy is stolen it hurts more. We made a decision to keep the church open throughout the day as much as possible so that people passing by could drop in to light a candle, say a prayer, sit in silence or even sing out loud! It happened one evening that I came on a young couple doing just that – singing. People comment on the peace that is to be found i...

It's a very hot day but my time standing under the burning sun lasts only half an hour and then I'm into the shaded, seated area. Normally I really dislike waiting in a queue of any sort but there's a blessedness here waiting in common with others. Waiting and silent. Present. Waiting to get into the holy bath of Lourdes. The feast day of Lourdes was last Monday, February 11 th .  There’s one section for women and another for men. Sometimes my eyes are closed, sometimes I simply observe. This reminds me of the pool of  Bethesda in John 5 - the paralysed waiting for the moment of healing. We’re all paralysed in one way or another, all in need of healing. Dads with their little sons get priority over the rest of us, which is only right. They are a beautiful sight.  A young father holds his paralysed son in his arms. The boy spends his time looking up into the face of his father. Their eyes meet, their faces touch and the child utters ...

  Water is a womb In my dreams It nurtures Some unknown subconscious Still to be born Water is a woman In my waking A still inspiring tranquil Sea at the dawn And dusk of day Now And then A tempest inflicting The frailty of man upon Perishing rocks A river rushing From mountain top To ocean depth Tears of compassion And delight Uninhibited flow Of love and every Emotion Water is a calm swell Rising imperceptibly Breaching boundaries Seeping in where it does Not belong You open your eyes On a bed floating in flood The damage is not Beyond repair But it will take forever And she flicks her eyelids Glancing sideways She sighs Get over it! Maybe she really wanted Me to drown To save me again In that unfathomable Logic of her love