The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

I have never really supported the 19^th century representation of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, standing with a open wound in his chest, where his heart is visible, or even with his heart removed from the body, maybe held in his own hand. It is not that I haven’t got the point – Christ offering his heart by love towards humanity – but I can’t help seeing it as a violation of the body, a disturbing image that removes me from the meditation on love. But popular devotions find their expression according to their own time and place, and one may ask how our time would like to represent this devotion today. Historically, the devotion to the Most Sacred Heart spread rapidly from the 17th century, but can be traced back to Benedictine and Cistercian monasteries in the 11th and 12th century.

Apart from the representation mentioned above, the devotion to the Sacred Heart has an intimate beauty, a deep meditation on the self-giving of Christ, given to humanity so that we may follow in his foot-steps. As Christ empties himself through his all-embracing love, so are we called to give ourselves, both in prayer and in charity towards our neighbour. The devotion is deeply connected to the Eucharist, and as the heart, often connected to love and goodness, the deep centre of our existence, so is the Eucharist the place where grace and love are transmitted to believing humanity. The heart also signifies trust and openness, values that John Henry Newman must have thought of when he was elected Cardinal, citing St Augustine as he chose the motto Cor ad cor loquitur, Heart speaks unto heart. For this is the profound mystery of the Incarnation. God unites with humanity, and comes so close to us that he reaches us from within, from one heart to another.

We may not always be aware of it, but this intimacy is present also in the Old Testament. The relation between Israel and the Lord carries within it a paradox. The people of God address themselves to the Lord whose name they cannot even mention. Still, the Psalms expresses all the dimensions of human life, from celebration, joy, peace, happiness, to frustration, sorrow, anger and despair; all through it is a most intimate language, seen in the word ‘You’. Whether it is in anxiety – My God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Ps 21,1) – or in thanksgiving – You make your saving help my shield,and your right hand sustains me; your help has made me great’(Ps. 18,36) – we always find the deep trustful way of talking with God expressed through an unreserved ’You’.

This intimate dialogue is ultimately revealed in the Incarnation, but we shall not forget that the people of the old covenant are living in God’s immediate presence. As we meditate on the gift of receiving the heart of Christ in our own lives, we may cite an old rabbinic prayer that expresses the infinite communion between God and man, between the Lord and his people:

"Where I wander –You!
Where I ponder –You!
Only You, You again, always You!
You! You! You!
When I am gladdened –You!
When I am saddened –You!
Only You, You again, always You!
You! You! You!
Sky is You! Earth is You!
You above! You below!
In every trend, at every end,
Only You, You again, always You!You! You! You!"

Art of the Redemption 10: The Light of the World by William Holman Hunt

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20).

In a contemporary review, the nineteenth century preacher and social reformer George Dawson described The Light of the World, as a sermon on canvas and stated; “Such a picture explains the true uses which art had in the Middle Ages. With many people, nowadays, paintings are only the last touch of ornament given to their houses; but in the Middle Ages the painter occupied the place preachers would occupy now.” In viewing this painting one is inclined to agree with Dawson’s enthusiastic pronouncement on Holman Hunt’s work. It is no mere ornamentation but a beautiful sermon on the mission of Christ.

Thus, central to the painting is the patient figure of the risen Lord, lantern in hand, knocking upon and waiting without, the tightly shut door. A door long closed with rusting hinges, surrounded by brambles and ivy. This door represents the firmly closed door of the soul. There is no handle on Christ’s side, for the door must be opened from within. Christ holds in his hand the lantern of the Church which illuminates the way and which is bound tightly to his wrist with cords. Upon his head are two crowns; one of thorns the other of gold. The former symbolises his Passion and the latter his heavenly glory; interestingly the thorns have begun to bud showing the new life flowing from Christ’s sacrifice. The face of Christ shows a measure of sadness as he continues to knock and to wait, but it is also patient and full of kindness. Christ knows the night may be long but he is not about to walk away.

There are numerous other fascinating details, rich in religious significance, which deserve closer inspection and which make it well worth the journey to see the original if possible. In particular pay attention to the bat, the robe, the apples, and the jewelled clasp – see what you will make of them! The work is open to the public at Keble College, Oxford. Later versions painted by the artist are to be found in St Pau'ls, London and the Manchester Art Gallery.

Solemnity of St Peter and St Paul

Readings: Acts 12:1-11; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 17-18; Matthew 16:13-19

Most of the prominent people in the New Testament get a feast day to themselves, so why do Peter and Paul, certainly the two most prominent people in the Acts of the Apostles, share a feast day here? Certainly each deserves proper liturgical focus in their own right and in fact there are separate feasts as well: the Conversion of St Paul (25 January) and the Chair of St Peter (22 February).

However, they are combined here because they were both martyred in Rome during the persecution by the Emperor Nero. The slim evidence that there is does not point to them sharing the same date of execution, but very strong evidence establishes the fact that these two apostles died for the faith in Rome in the mid 60s, having spent at least some time ministering there. There is good archaeological evidence to support the cult of these apostles from extremely early times, and this date is known to have commemorated them from 258 AD at the latest.

This double martyrdom, supported by a period of ministry that preceded it, was seen as hugely significant in the early church. It made Rome unique. No other city or local church could claim to be the place of final ministry and martyrdom of two apostles. It was very much at the heart of the pre-eminence given to the Church of Rome, and the reason given for it. St Clement, c. 96 AD, St Ignatius, c. 110 AD, and St Irenaeus and Tertullian, both later in the second century, all refer to this. Though there (almost) certainly were Christians in Rome before either Peter or Paul was there in person (indeed Paul wrote to them before he went there), their ministry and especially their martyrdoms were seen as giving a secure foundation to the church there. Without intending it, Nero was an instrument of providence by which Rome was established as the centre of the universal or Catholic Church, in effect making Catholicism Roman.

Tertullian later reflected that ‘the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church’ by which he meant that this witness in death both encouraged the faithful to remain so, and also invited, even challenged, their persecutors to accept the faith. At the centre of their lives was something more important than life and indeed something that transformed death. No doubt the presence, ministry and fidelity unto death of Peter and Paul strengthened the rest of the Christian community in Rome to be faithful unto death – and many were indeed faithful, in this persecution and in others that followed it. Since that time, right down to today, there has always been a Christian community in Rome, true to the teaching of these apostles.

We too today have the chance to be part of the Church and to be in communion with the church founded on their witness unto death. To really live in the grace of that communion is to be willing to witness to the Gospel each and every day in our lives and in whatever death God sends us, peaceful or violent. For strength, then, let us be encouraged by the example and prayers of St Peter and St Paul and all the Roman martyrs who followed them, and with them let us look to Jesus Christ ‘the faithful witness, the first born form the dead, the highest of earthly kings’ (Rev 1:5).

Oxford's Corpus Christi Procession

The sun came out just in time for North Oxford Deanery Corpus Christi procession, led by Bishop William Kenney CP, auxiliary bishop of Birmingham. The Blessed Sacrament was carried from the Oxford Oratory to the Oxford University Catholic Chaplaincy. The route was broken by a stop at Blackfriars where Bishop Kenney preached a sermon reminding the faithful of the humanity that is so integral to the Eucharistic altar.

Here are some photos from the day:

Corpus Christi

Readings: Deuteronomy 8:2-3; Psalm 147; 1 Corinthians 10: 16-17; John 6: 51-58

Economic doom and gloom has filled the media with stories of protests and demonstrations in recent weeks. This is the bread and butter of politics. When resources become scarce we band together and fight for our own interests. In different ways, the ideologies of left and right are based on conflict and competition. We fight to preserve our way of life. One of the ways in which we do this is by taking to the streets.

One could interpret the traditional Corpus Christi processions in this manner: as a show of strength from a Church intent on preserving its power and prestige in the world. This, I think, is to misunderstand the sacrament and today's solemnity. The Eucharist is the sacrament of Christ's sacrifice on the cross. It is the sacrament of Christ's atonement, or 'at-one-ment', through which we become one with God and one with each other. Where secular political ideologies are about groups and individuals preserving their own interests, protecting their own lives in opposition to competitors and rivals, the Eucharist is about reconciliation. The Eucharist is about communion, or common union. Instead of fighting to save his life, Christ gave his life as a gift for others. In the Eucharist we accept this gift of Christ's life and identify ourselves with his sacrifice.

With this background in mind, the symbolism of a Corpus Christi procession becomes all the more powerful. When we leave the privacy and safety of the four walls of our church and the comfortable arrangements that we have grown familiar with, when we follow the Blessed Sacrament through the streets of cities like Oxford, we make a statement about the Christian life. Our faith is not a private affair, separate and distinct from how we live in 'the real world'. The whole of our lives ought to be Eucharistic, this means offering our lives as a sacrifice for others that builds communion, that leads to reconciliation.

This reconciliation can only happen if we, and the society around us, like the people of Israel in our first reading, recognize that man 'does not live on bread alone' (Deuteronomy 8:3). As a society we are condemned to never ending strife and struggle for our 'daily bread', which although necessary offers a temporary satisfaction and a temporary life, unless we see these material goods against the horizon of the Body and Blood of Christ. This is the 'living bread', the food and drink that gives eternal life. Only God can satisfy all our desires, and God offers himself to us as a gift in the Eucharist that we celebrate today. It is a gift that puts all material goods into perspective, and it is a gift that we must share with our neighbours.

Eucharistic FLASH MOB

The Franciscans in Preston organised a Eucharistic flash mob in the centre of Preston on Ascension Thursday 2011. I for one found this very inspiring and it is certainly in the spirit of "New Evangelization"

Saints This Month: St John the Baptist (24th June)

As we celebrate the Nativity, or  Birthday, of St John the Baptist, the Church’s liturgy draws our attention in particular to his place in God’s eternal plan. ‘The Lord called me before I was born, from my mother’s womb he pronounced my name,’ we hear in the first reading from Isaiah (49:1). The events surrounding his birth also draw people’s attention to his special role: his father Zechariah’s dumbness and the subsequent return of his speech make the family’s neighbours wonder, “What will this child turn out to be?” (Lk 1:66).

All of these signs, in the life of John the Baptist and in the Church’s reflection upon it, highlight his place at the culmination of the chain of Old Testament prophets, those called by the Lord to proclaim his word to the people of Israel. John was not only to speak the word, calling people to repentance and reconciliation with the Lord, he was the one who would point to the Word of God made flesh, saying, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world” (Jn 1:29).

Because of this great privilege of John’s, Jesus himself says, “Truly I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist” (Mt 11:11). And yet he then goes on to say, “he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he”. The transformation wrought by Jesus through his death and resurrection, which has enabled us to enter that kingdom through our baptism, has raised human existence to another level.

It was that transformation which John hinted at as he pointed out the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world; in a world where so many have still not heard this good news, we who have heard are called, even as we try to understand it more fully ourselves, to imitate St John the Baptist, drawing people’s attention not to ourselves but to Christ and the great gift of salvation which he holds out to all the world.

Studentate outing to Newman's Shrine and Invocation

Desiring to recreate this scene in which St Philip Neri is treating Dominican students to a congenial picnic lunch, the Provost of the Birmingham Oratory recently invited the Dominican students from Blackfriars, Oxford to Mass and lunch. Plans had been made to have a barbecue at Rednal, where Blessed John Henry Newman was buried, but the inclement weather made this difficult.

The day began with the pilgrims' Mass in the Oratory church, which was built by the same architect as the priory church in Oxford, E. Doran Webb. The buildings may seem somewhat different in style, but the barrel vaulted roof is recognizably similar. After Mass, we venerated the relic of Blessed John Henry, and then the Provost gave us a fascinating tour of the church and residence.

The shrine to Blessed John Henry

Viewing the memorial stones of Birmingham Oratorians

In Newman's library, looking at the manuscript of his Apologia at the desk on which he wrote it.

In Newman's room

A highlight of the tour was the library where Newman's extensive collection of books, notably of Patristic texts, is housed. We were also shown the autograph of Newman's famed Apologia pro vita sua, the desk on which he wrote the work, and his violin. We were also shown Newman's cell, which Pope Benedict XVI had also visited, and signed the guest book which the Holy Father had been the first to sign on 19 September 2010.

After the tour, we enjoyed a hearty lunch in the refectory, followed by recreation and coffee, during which the world-famous Oratory cat, Pushkin, paid us a visit. Pope Benedict XVI had been photographed with this cat, and some of us couldn't resist doing the same!

Later in the afternoon, some of the Dominican students made a brief journey to Oscott College, where Invocation 2011, the national vocations festival was being held. Two of our brothers, including fr. Robert Gay OP, the Vocations Promoter, had spent the previous night in a tent on the grounds, and were committed to being present for the entire weekend, but we were only able to spend a few hours on site meeting young people, catching up with other religious, and listened to an excellent keynote speech by Mgr John Armitage on holiness, the saints, and our vocation.

It was a fitting end to a day in which we had visited the shrine and home of England's newest saint.

The last photo above is used courtesy of © Mazur/catholicchurch.org.uk

Fr Austin Gaskell OP RIP

Please join with us in praying for our brother Austin Gaskell OP who died on 6th June. Here is the homily preached at his funeral by Fr John Farrell OP, prior provincial. The gospel text was that of the Beatitudes, from the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:1-12):

Who is it who is speaking to us as we sit at the feet of Jesus on the mountainside hearing the beatitudes? It is Divine Wisdom made flesh, the incarnate Holy Wisdom who speaks to us now and here as he did on that mountaintop. 'Blessed are you who mourn ... blessed are the peacemakers ...' The same one who said 'let there be light' and there was light, in the beginning, speaks to us with the same creativity, the same ever present, ever fresh, creativity of God. And this creativity is not just that of Genesis but – and here lies the wonder of the mystery – it is the creativity of Calvary, of the Resurrection, and of the Giving of the Spirit of God.

This Jesus, Son of Mary and Son of God, is not being descriptive but causative. He is not saying, 'And by the way, despite appearances, it is a fact that you are blessed in the pain of your bereavement'; or 'incidentally, peacemakers are happy'. From his own crucified and risen person He says 'I am blessing you in your loss and in the dull ache of your bereavement; I, I myself, am blessing you'. And to those who strive for what is right and to those who are peacemakers he says, 'I, I myself, am with you, pouring my blessings upon you in the frustrations and disappointments of your calling'. Through Matthew's gospel we hear our Master's voice and become aware once again of his presence – 'where two or three are gathered together, I, I myself, am in their midst'.

Austin was a quiet man, a large (quite large) and gentle man, unostentatious, and a good listener. One of his greatest pastoral interests was Clinical Theology as founded by Frank Lake: it involved looking at life issues within the power of the gospel of Christ. He was also very much involved in Co-Counselling – where two or three are gathered together ...

His love of combining psychology, theology, and pastoral activity in the service of Christ had begun as an undergraduate at Glasgow. He had gone to university after his wartime service in the Navy at the age of 25, and entered the Order in 1956, aged 35, his joining delayed because of his father's illness. But in the Order it was not until he was in his 50s that he was given time to train – at the Westminster Pastoral Foundation 1973-4 – and then to practise – from the Chaplaincies in Edinburgh and York University, and then the parish at Beauly. After ordination he had served briefly at Woodchester and Hinckley and then, unhappily, at Hawkesyard. In 1974 he was made an Assistant University Chaplain in Edinburgh and was Superior there from 1977 to 1982.

In Edinburgh his happiest years were in the 'mixed community' of young women and men in George Square and in the friendships of the Chaplaincy parish. He enjoyed female friendship especially and was a kind, gentle and dependable friend and a wise counsellor. He himself had been a Third Order Dominican before becoming a friar and perhaps this made him attentive to the Lay Dominicans and the Dominican Secular Institute to which he was chaplain for many years.

In 1982, aged 61, he was asked to be chaplain at York University which he enjoyed very much as an older priest in a community of young lively students – a centre of peace and stability and faith. As he was leaving York to take up his first Highland parish – Marydale and Eskadale – the students wrote to him: 'Thank you for the time you have been with us because you are, for us, a sign of the presence of Christ', a remark he treasured – and what priest would not.

The return to Scotland was his own suggestion and the dream of working as a priest in the Highlands was something which had attracted him even before his ordination. It also appealed to a desire for solitude and silence which the Order had not given him until then. He loved the Scottish landscape and revelled in the local history and customs around Beauly. As Drumnadrochit was in his parish – the 'Official' Loch Ness Monster Visitor Centre – he claimed the monster as a parishioner. (He often pondered what the significance of 'official' was in that title.) Scottish friendship, Scottish fresh air and Scottish food – to see this large man sitting down with total concentration before a plate of tiny whitebait or sprats was to witness another Beatitude.

He had become a Catholic during the Second World War, in the Navy, at the age of 21. At 19 he had joined the Royal Navy, becoming an Able Seaman a year later and by 1945 he had been promoted a Temporary Lieutenant. His faith was deep and active. He received the sacraments whenever he could in the difficulties of warfare. Once, in charge of a Landing Craft needing repairs he chose to take it to Wootton Creek on the Isle of Wight – coincidentally the creek flows next to the Benedictine Abbey of Quarr whose monks he came to know very well. Austin had been seconded to the Naval Side of Combined Operations with the Army and Air Force, training together on the beaches of the west of Scotland around Troon and on the southern English coast for the invasion of Europe.

June 6th 1944 was D Day and Austin took his part in the largest Naval operation in history. His task in command of a Landing Craft was to ferry tanks from the larger vessels in the open Channel to the beaches. On that day many of his contemporaries died in battle. He was to die exactly 67 years later, on June 6th 2011. Combined Operations c.1944 had their own prayer:

O LORD GOD, our Father, our Saviour, our Might, we pray Thee take into Thy keeping us who are joined together in a trinity of arms on sea, on land, and in the air in this our special service for King and Country. We pledge ourselves to do, to dare, to die that others might live, believing in Him who said 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends'. Grant us faith, courage and determination that we fail not in whatever duty may lie before us, and may we be enabled by Thy Divine Grace to bear our part in establishing peace on earth and goodwill amongst men. This we ask for Jesus Christ, His sake. Amen.

But it was not by his death that Austin was to be enabled by Divine Grace to work as a peacemaker and a bringer of goodwill among men and women, but by 67 more years of living out Christian, Religious and Priestly service. He once preached a sermon on St Dominic's Day which began with the arresting question 'Why did someone who cannot preach join the Order of Preachers?' He was not a great preacher by words but, he went on to say, it was Truth, Veritas, that had drawn him to the Order. Truth I think as St Catherine of Siena presents it as from the mouth of God: 'What is this truth? That I had created humankind in my image and likeness so that they might have eternal life, sharing in my being and enjoying my supreme eternal tenderness and goodness' (Dialogue 21,58). Sharing the eternal tenderness of God with others. A large man in many ways.

But he listened not only to his neighbour but also to his Master. At a time of crisis – whether to leave York for the Highlands or not – he sent to the Provincial a prayer that was guiding him at the time (from John V Taylor, A Matter of Life and Death). We can take them as Austin's last words:

Austin taking leave of the parish at Beauly, April 2010

Father, if the hour has come to make the break,
help me not to cling,
even though it feels like death.
Give me the inward strength of my Redeemer Jesus Christ,
to lay down this bit of life and let it go,
so that I and others may be free
to take up whatever new and fuller life
you have prepared for us,
now and hereafter. Amen.

 

 Eternal rest grant to him O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.

May he rest in peace. Amen.

Trinity Sunday

Readings: Exodus 34:4-6,8-9; 2 Corinthians 13:11-14; John 3:16-18

Every time we receive the sacraments, every time we make the sign of the cross and pray, every time we show Christian love to our neighbour, we are acknowledging the involvement of the Triune God in our lives. The Trinity is at the centre of our Christian life: it is the mystery of God who eternally knows and loves himself and invites us to share in His knowing and loving. This doctrine represents the culmination of Divine revelation, and so it is very fitting that the Solemnity of the Trinity occurs at this point in the liturgical year. The Incarnation, Christ’s Passion and Resurrection, the Ascension and Pentecost, is the story of what the Trinity looks like projected onto our broken world. When we see the Cross we see how God understands himself, and how he communicates this understanding to all humanity.

The doctrine of the Trinity could be summed up by saying that the one true God exists as three persons each of the same Divine nature: the Father is God, Jesus Christ is God, the Holy Spirit is God, each of them is distinct, yet God is indivisible. This is not a riddle, but a gift. God created the universe freely out of pure love, but God’s loving does not depend on the universe. It is not as though he had to create the universe so that He had something to love. God is Trinity so God has always loved; His love is eternal. The doctrine of the Trinity is a gift because it means that God is revealing the knowledge of His eternal love to us. He does not keep us at a distance, but he lets us actively participate in showing His eternal love to the world - and this is what it means to be holy.

Dedication of St Chad's Cathedral

Saint Chad (d.672), a saint from Northumbria, is called the Apostle to the Midlands because he established his diocese at Lichfield in 669, and from there evangelized the kingdom of Mercia. The current Catholic successor to that ancient diocese is called the Archdiocese of Birmingham. This large diocese encompasses Oxford, hence today in the Dominican studentate at Blackfriars we celebrate the feast of the dedication of St Chad's Cathedral, the diocesan cathedral in Birmingham.

According to the Ceremonial of Bishops, "the cathedral church is the church that is the site of the bishop's cathedra or chair, the sign of his teaching office and pastoral power in the particular Church [i.e., diocese], and a sign also of the unity of believers in the faith that the bishop proclaims as shepherd of the Lord's flock". So, all the members of a diocese celebrate the feast of their cathedral's dedication as a sign of filial piety, of their closeness to the bishop, and of their unity with one another in the faith. Moreover, the Ceremonial continues, "the diocesan cathedral 'in the majesty of its building is a symbol of the spiritual temple that is built up in souls and is resplendent with the glory of divine grace ... The cathedral, furthermore, should be regarded as the express image of Christ's visible Church, praying, singing, and worshiping on earth. The cathedral should be regarded as the image of Christ's Mystical Body, whose members are joined together in an organism of charity that is sustained by the outpouring of God's gifts'".

Hence, today we not only celebrate the physical building and what it stands for, but are also reminded of the spiritual reality which the building symbolizes, that we Christians are temples of the living God (2 Cor 6:16), and called to be living stones building up a spiritual house (1 Pet 2:5). For Christians, the church houses the Church, it is the domus Ecclesiæ in which we receive the sacraments of grace, and encounter the living God. From it we are sent forth into the world to proclaim the Gospel, and in it we receive refreshment and healing. Thus, at the time of St Chad, missionaries were sent to evangelize a local area from central churches that were generally called 'Minsters'.

Because the church is the normative place where God is encountered in the sacraments, and in which the Altar of God is sheltered, and the Blessed Sacrament is reserved, the church building is also called the Domus Dei, the house of God (cf. Code of Canon Law, Can. 1220 §1), and these two aspects - House of God and House of the Church - form a unity in the one building. Sometimes one hears of a dichotomy being drawn between these two aspects, but that is not the Catholic way which is to be inclusive and encompass both aspects. Thus the liturgy of the dedication of a church emphasizes the sacral character of the church. For example, the Introit chant says: "How awesome this place is! This is the house of God and the gateway to heaven", or (as we hear in the Gradual motet below), "This place is the work of God, a mystery surpassing all comprehension, above all reproach". At the same time, Scripture readings (e.g. 1 Cor 3:9-17) remind us that we are called to be temples of God. For it is from such places of prayer, where we feed on the living Word and the living Bread, that we can grow in holiness, and so be effective disciples of Christ in the world. That great missionary St Chad knew this well, which is why he established churches and monasteries wherever he went, and it was from these places that saintly men and women were sent out to evangelize England.

In our time, mindful of the new evangelization called for by Blessed Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, we do well to think of our diocesan cathedral. Consider what it stands for, but also consider the building itself. As bodily creatures, we need material places like church buildings. They are (or ought to be) places of beauty that enrich the local area, that lift the mind to God and refresh the world-weary soul, and that move the contemplative soul to long for heaven. The holiness of their beauty should move us to long for the beauty of holiness. They are places for evangelization as St Chad demonstrates.

"The Trumpet shall sound..."

It's not often that one sees the black and white formal wear of an orchestra graced by the black and white of St Dominic's habit. But here in Oxford, Br Robert Verrill OP has been playing in the Oxford University Philharmonia for almost four years, and has regularly been given solo trumpet parts. Recently he played in the end-of-term concert, which consisted of Bizet's popular Carmen Suite No.2, Marquez's energizing Danzon No.2, and Vaughan Williams's Symphony No.2 which evokes scenes of life in London.

Br Robert's involvement with the orchestra is a witness to the fact that a religious vocation does not diminish our enjoyment of life, or the use of our talents, as some might be tempted to think. Rather, all good things can (and should) be put to use for the glory of God, even as a form of preaching. In addition to playing in the orchestra, Br Robert has frequently added to the solemnity of our liturgies in Blackfriars, and the video below is a recording of him playing a well-known Easter hymn.

And finally, the trumpet is a fitting instrument for a Dominican. As Blessed Humbert of Romans in his Treatise on Preaching said: "Scripture even compares the voice of a preacher to the sound of trumpets, for it should be heard at a distance with force and clarity. And then it is that we can apply to the preacher the words of the Prophet Hosea: 'Let there be a trumpet in thy throat...' (Hosea 8:1)".

Pentecost at Blackfriars

Pentecost is all the more joyful at Blackfriars due to it being our patronal feast. For the past two years the Priory of the Holy Spirit has begun its celebration with a solemn Vigil of Pentecost. The service consists of Vespers, readings, psalms, prayers and culminates with the first Mass of Pentecost.

On Pentecost Day itself we were honoured to welcome fr. Bruno Cadoré, the Master of the Order. Following mass, the community held the traditional "Door-Keepers' Supper". The event allows the priory to thank the volunteer door keepers who play such an important part in the mission of Blackfriars.

Art of the Redemption 9: Verdi's 'Jerusalem'

Giuseppe Verdi's less well known opera I Lombardi (sometimes called Jerusalem) is set in the Holy Land at the time of the Crusades. Act III opens with this beautiful song in honour of Jerusalem. It is sung by crusader knights, women, and other pilgrims as they get their first view of the Holy City. They are overcome with emotion as they see their destination which means not just the end of an earthly journey but somehow also their eternal destination.

Jewish tradition says that when joy was being distributed by God one tenth of it went to the rest of the world and nine tenths to Jerusalem, and that when sorrow was being distributed by God one tenth of it went to the rest of the world and nine tenths to Jerusalem. It is the place where God chose to dwell, his glory abiding in the Temple at Jerusalem. The city is sacred to Muslims who believe that it was there  Abraham was prepared to sacrifice Isaac and  from there  Mohammed was taken up to heaven

For Christians, of course, Jerusalem is the place where the drama of our redemption was enacted. The significance of Jerusalem for Christians cannot be understood without appreciating what the city meant to the Jews. The wonderful psalms about this city as well as the great prophecies about its place in the coming Kingdom of God are cherished by Christians also as foundational to their faith. We look back at the saving events that unfolded in Jerusalem with the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus. We celebrate those events in our liturgies so that we live now within them. We look forward to the coming again of Christ when 'New Jerusalem', the city not built by human hands, comes down out of heaven from God.

Verdi describes Jerusalem as 'the promised city', 'the fatal city', the place of 'blood well shed'. The women pray through their tears that when they come to die they may depart from this city to the bosom of God. The men recall that it was among Jerusalem's rocky heights that 'the Lamb of mercy' was bound. The wolves that surrounded the Lamb fell to the ground when he said 'I am he' - Io son: where the singing reaches a climax. This is the city over which he wept, they continue, and it is here that poor humanity receives salvation. In the final part men and women sing together about the Jerusalem that is to come: 'O mountains, O plains, O valleys eternally sacred to human thought! Behold, the living God comes, a terrifying warrior'.

'I made a wooden box coffin for a baby'

Here is the homily preached by Fr John Farrell OP, prior provincial, at the funeral of Fr Jonathan Fleetwood OP:

Jonathan

I made a wooden box coffin for a baby. Just a free floating remark in Jonathan's musings about his time in South Africa. An interesting remark, both in that he could do it – not that something so simple would be beyond a trained technical drawer and engineer like Jonathan. But also that he did do it. He, a priest, a human being, a friend in need, doing this for a bereaved poverty stricken African mother. Capable, kind hearted, feet on the ground, one of the crowd. Ordinary, in the ordinary, for the ordinary: a man of God. 

I made a wooden box coffin for a baby. He was assigned to the mission in South Africa as a 35 year old priest and was there until he was 45 (1960-1971). At first he was on the East Rand as a parish priest and as a chaplain to the thousands of migrant workers in the harsh conditions of the enclosed compounds surrounding the gold mines:

To say mass, hear confessions (behind an upturned table), to visit the mine hospitals and to bury miners killed in accidents ... His mates would put him into a meagre coffin. You then put him onto a rickety trek-cart and took him to the graveyard, probably next to a mine spoil heap. The men sang haunting hymns on the way. African language often has funeral hymns. This was real liturgy. The dead man was put into the grave with his tin hat, knee pads, talcum powder and personal effects.

Jonathan always wanted to enter into the real lived world of other people and try to see it from their own way of seeing, expressing, and sharing life. He spent some time in Zululand and learnt the Zulu language – but not as fluently as he wanted – and tried Afrikaner. But around him was the apartheid state, police harassment, spies and surveillance, and barriers between Afrikaner and Blacks, and between Black Power Seminarians and Liberal Whites. This latter was one of several causes of disturbance at the newly opened seminary for Blacks at Hammanskraal. Jonathan taught there for five years in the late 60s, a period in which the seminary produced many priests, leaders of the Black movement for freedom, and six bishops. Apart from teaching, Jonathan had to use his engineering expertise to maintain the water purification systems, the electricity generator, the sewerage disposal system, build roads, make general repairs, and supervise the very large garden.

Canal at Stone

He was a great planter of trees – there at the seminary and earlier at Hawkesyard as a Dominican student. He had a great love of nature and was a great walker until his very last year. He has an almost childlike sense of wonder at both nature and the human ingenuity to be found in industrial archaeology, especially in his last years at Stone, walking the canals of early industrial and rural Staffordshire. He loved to find things out. He was so humble if something was explained to him: “Oo I see”, he would say in that characteristic way. And then often – because of his terrible, terrible memory, 'I'll just write that down if you don't mind'.

He was born in 1925 in Handsworth, Birmingham. The world of engineering, industry and trade unionism was his from the beginning – alongside, from childhood, scouting and cycling in the countryside. He went to St Philip's Grammar School next to the Oratory and his was a close knit Catholic family (he and his only sibling Patricia always meant so much to each other). The family experienced the difficulties of the 1930s depression and the world war – as a boy he was twice evacuated from the bombing of Birmingham. At 16 (in 1941) he was a Drawing Office Apprentice and by 18 acquired his National Certificates in mechanical and electrical engineering with further qualifications in the next few years. He was involved in trade union activity and as a committed Catholic worker combating Communist manipulation of trade union structures. Religion was a lively topic of conversation in the workplace and it was the thought of learning how to explain religion that led him to the Dominican friars when he was 25.

When he returned to England from South Africa in 1971, aged 45, he was immediately elected prior of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. The respect he gained from his brethren led them to elect him provincial three years later. At this point the province of England was beginning to regain some confidence after the shattering collapse of the previous ten years during which numbers dropped from 258 friars in 1964 to 155 in 1974, with half the brethren in 1974 being over 60. Still the provincial chapter of 1974 struck a new note:

We seemed to have passed beyond a period of disintegration and seeming collapse, beyond a succeeding period of apparent inertia and incapacity, but of some real stabilisation, into the possible beginnings of a new phase ... It is imperative that we should choose our future not just accept our fate.

Hawkesyard

For the next 25 years as provincial (1974-82), warden of Hawkesyard Conference Centre, and provincial bursar (1986-2000), Jonathan was at the heart of this restructuring of the province, consolidating our finances and freeing the province for new growth. He and his friend in the Order Peter Edgar worked together as a team. While others of us had projects and plans, they were the ones who had to deal with the tricky legal problems, financial liabilities, employment law, and other complexities of monitoring and selling Hawkesyard, selling half of the London priory, and giving Woodchester and Hinckley to the dioceses. As ever, Jonathan had his feet on the ground, persevered, and showed himself capable – though not always calm. His language especially during this period could often be described as colourful. The main colour was blue.

While involved in millions of pounds worth of property transactions he lived in absolute simplicity. In fact he was homeless while the London priory was a building site, living in the cellar of a church in Queensway, next to the New Blackfriars printing press. He always had a very simple lifestyle, an unaffected straightforwardness in meeting people, a total unselfconscious humility. His dress sense – or lack of it – was famous. At least once he turned up as prior provincial to give a retreat to sisters and on ringing the door bell was greeted by a sister who gave him a pack of sandwiches and told him where to sit with his fellow tramps for a cup of tea.

Sharing in the ministry of the Good Shepherd, he was a man of great pastoral kindness - to Filipino nurses in his later assignation in Newcastle upon Tyne, and in his last pastoral care, as Chaplain to the Dominican sisters in Stone. He also had a simple genuine gratitude for even the smallest kindness to him. These two – his ability to give and also to receive – came together over his last months. As people have said since his death: he was a real human being, a good human being. May God have mercy on him for his failures and sins and raise him up with Christ his Master: a good and faithful steward in the house of his Lord.

Eternal rest grant to our brother Jonathan, Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace, amen.

Master of the Order visits Oxford

The recently elected Master of the Order, fr Bruno Cadoré OP, joined the community at Oxford for Pentecost Sunday, the patronal feast of the priory. He took the opportunity to meet with the Dominican students at Oxford to share his experiences of the Order so far and to listen to their concerns and hopes for the future. Here he is, centre, with the students (l. to r.), brothers Lawrence, Robert, Haavar, Mark, Graham, Gregory, Andrew and Nicholas.

New Vocations Video for the Province

Produced in 2011 by the Province's Commission for the Internet Apostolate, Godzdogz is proud to launch this Pentecost the English Dominicans' new vocations video. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, may it bear fruit in moving many to consider if they too are called to join us in St Dominic's mission of preaching for the salvation of souls.

Pentecost - a New and Lasting Covenant in the Holy Spirit.

At the time of Jesus Pentecost was, and still is for Jews, a feast that celebrated the covenant established between God and the people of Israel through the mediation of Moses on Mount Sinai. It happened 50 days (hence the name) after Passover, which celebrated God’s deliverance of his people, again under the human leadership of Moses, from slavery in Egypt. The Sinai covenant was thus seen as linked to, and even the climax of and reason for the liberation from slavery. Moses went up the mountain and into the dense cloud where he encountered God and then he had come down with the Law (Torah), the material content of the covenant, which had to be carefully kept if the Jews were to receive the blessings of the covenant (Ex 19 ff).

Although it was seen as a great gift, the Jews found it impossible to consistently keep the Torah. God promised to make a new covenant, written on their hearts (Jer 31:31-34), graciously made possible by the promised gift of the Holy Spirit to renew them spiritually, raised from the death of sin and walking in God’s ways in deep integrity (Ezek 37:1-14).

Luke sees the events of Acts 1 and 2 and thus the gift of the Holy Spirit as fulfilling and transforming the Jewish Feast of Pentecost, and raising it to an eschatological (divinely definitive and final) level of significance. It thus marks the establishment of a new and final covenant. There are a number of parallels. Each is linked with the Passover that God had worked through the leading protagonist, first Moses and now Jesus. At the last supper Jesus had said: ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood poured out for you' (Lk 22:20). In each case there is an escape from slavery (now seen as sin) and a victory over one’s enemies (now taken to include the spiritual powers and death). The bringing into clear reality of the covenant in each case is preceded by the main protagonist going up a mountain and disappearing from view in a cloud to encounter God. It thus seems clear that Luke sees Jesus as a new Moses. As such his presentation is close to that of John who says in his prologue: ‘Indeed, from his fullness we have, all of us, received – one gift replacing another, for the law was given through Moses, grace and truth have come through Jesus Christ' (1:16-17). The Holy Spirit is the 'gift' of God (an idea taken up by Augustine and Aquinas) and the Spirit brings grace and truth.

The Spirit is given to form a people, as in Exodus, and the presence of the 12 apostles is a reminder of the 12 tribes that made up Israel. This new people rapidly expanded, with many others – all Jews at first – joining the Church, recognising in the event of Pentecost the fulfilment of God’s promises and the establishment of the new eschatological covenant. Only later did the Gentiles come in (Acts 10).

The Pentecost events have other dimensions and ramifications. But one that is closely related to this connection with Sinai is that the coming of the Holy Spirit fulfils the prophesies of Jeremiah and Ezekiel. The Spirit not only appears as wind and flame but is poured deep into our hearts making us holy and enabling us to know God, to lead us into moral truth, and to empower us, through grace received in faith, to keep the commandments and live virtuously in freedom and peace. As such there is no clash between law and grace: the latter enables us to keep the substance of the former.

Let us ask the Holy Spirit to renew in us a deep holiness, one that shines out in the world and draws others to join God’s people.

Pentecost Vigil in Oxford

The Dominican Priory at Oxford is the Priory of the Holy Spirit. The community will begin the celebration of its patronal feast with the Pentecost Vigil of Vespers, Readings, Psalms, and Mass. Do join us if you can.

Graham Greene Anniversary 3: The Heart of the Matter

Set in a British colony in West Africa during the Second World War, The Heart of the Matter deals with the life of the small British community, focussing in particular on the character of Scobie, the Deputy Commissioner of Police. As in many of Greene’s novels, we are presented with the complexity of life and the moral challenges it presents, as flawed human beings struggle to live with each other and themselves.

Scobie comes across at the start of the novel as an upstanding policeman, committed to his job when many around him seem to be in it for the bribes. However, he no longer loves his wife Louise – no longer enjoys her company – and yet at the same time feels an enormous sense of responsibility towards her, and pity for the situation in which she finds herself because of this lack of love. When he again misses out on promotion, she refuses to put up with the conditions in the tropics any longer, and insists on moving to South Africa. Unable to get the money together, Scobie finds himself obliged by his sense of responsibility to borrow it from an unscrupulous businessman, and break his own moral code on account of his perceived responsibility for his wife’s happiness.

This initiation into 'shady dealings' can be seen as one of the turning points in the book; during his wife’s absence, Scobie finds himself drawn into both an adulterous affair and further underhand operations. The initial spark of love he thinks he has experienced with Helen, his mistress, turns out to go the way of his marital love, and become very quickly a sense of responsibility.

On his wife’s return, Scobie finds himself in an even more complicated moral situation. He had become a Catholic in order to marry his wife, and is now put in a position where, in order to maintain his wife’s happiness (which, with his sense of responsibility, he feels bound to do), he receives Holy Communion in a state of mortal sin: lacking contrition for his adultery, he is unable to seek absolution. The paradoxical situation in which he has placed himself leads, in the end, to disastrous consequences.

Greene himself, in the book’s preface, describes Scobie as a ‘weak man with good intentions doomed by pride’. He pursues what he sometimes even recognises as impossible aims solely by his own efforts, and when confronted with the contradictions and failures this presents, he comes to the 'flip side' of pride: despair, in which the enormity of his failure seems beyond even God’s redeeming power. Greene offers no easy answers to the problems, but presents us with a compelling account of the results, in a relatively ordinary life, of the primeval sin.

Art of the Redemption 8: Altarpiece Mural, Courtfield

This rather striking piece by Joanna Jamieson, former Abbess of Stambrook can be found in Courtfield, the former retreat house of the Mill Hill Missionaries in Hertfordshire. At the center we see the risen Christ. His glory spreads out to the scenes surrounding him The scenes depicted include the sacraments of baptism and the anointing of the sick; they show people praying (the figure in the bottom left is Eliza Vaughan mother of the Mill Hill Missionary Herbert, later Cardinal, Vaughan) and there is a scene from the Easter Vigil, but there are also less 'churchy' scenes showing people working, eating, teaching, and relaxing. At the bottom the tabernacle-doors are incorporated into the Alpha and Omega banners.

This mural shows that Christ's resurrection is not just a historical event but an event that reverberates ,touching all time; and it continues to do so. It is the new creation! Through the Pascal Mystery, the risen Christ is present in all we do and this is especially true in the sacraments, most notably in the Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist. In recognizing this we truly stand up, as the Easter people that we are and walk in His light