Remembering fr Cornelius Ernst OP

Ernst was ordained in Oxford in 1956

Fr Cornelius Ernst’s early death in 1977, aged just fifty-three, cut short a theological career of great promise and significant accomplishment. As the English Dominican Province’s obituarist observes, “[Ernst] was a theologian of rare capacity who never managed to write the books that were in him”. It was not only his early death that limited his theological output, however: the heavy burdens of teaching, together with the administrative responsibilities that he obediently assumed, coupled with the scruples of a perfectionist’s attention to detail, contributed to a sadly meagre literary legacy that has, nonetheless, profoundly influenced the intellectual culture of English Dominican theology.

William Henry Ernst (known as Henry to his family and friends) was born on 16th October 1924 in British Ceylon to parents of Dutch extraction. There were, from an early age, signs of a Dominican vocation. Mrs. Ernst recalled the state of young Henry’s bedroom: “there were books everywhere, and not a single chair to sit on”. On the 8th May 1946, whilst a student at Cambridge, Ernst noted that “it became quite simply and luminously clear” that he ought to become a Catholic (and a Dominican for that matter). Reading Cardinal Newman’s works, loaned by a Jewish friend, had convinced him both that “Christian doctrine needed definition and authority” and that “Christians too were capable of intellectual exploration”. Three years later, Ernst joined the Order at Woodchester, taking the name Cornelius in religion.

Hawkesyard Priory Church

Ernst’s intellectual formation as a Dominican provided a thorough grounding in the Thomistic tradition, which balanced the eclecticism of his undergraduate studies. In 1956, shortly after ordination, he completed the Lectorate, submitting a thesis on St Thomas’s theology of grace and its sources in the Church Fathers. Assigned to Hawkesyard to teach in the Province’s house of philosophy, he served as Master of Clerical Student Brothers from 1958 until his eventual appointment as Lector Primarius (with responsibility for looking after studies there) in 1962. He moved to Oxford as Regent in 1966 and retired as chaplain to the nuns in the Isle of Wight in 1975. Writing in the house chronicle for the morning of 10th November 1959, a student brother noted that Ernst’s morning conference outlined that “students should consider themselves forbidden to smoke the morning cigarette whilst travelling in the habit”, before moving on to “speak at length of the need for recovering a sense of the distinctive tradition of the English Province”, touching on the historical constitution of humanity before rounding the morning’s session off with “a learned discourse about certain aspects of meaning”. Gladly today's Student Master tends to limit himself to treating one major philosophical problem per conference!

Indeed, it was the quest for ‘meaning’ that led Fr Cornelius to join the order and which governed his entire life as a Dominican. His theological writings repeatedly turned to humanity’s quest for meaning, seeing God as the “meaning of meaning” for which we all long. Perhaps his most influential book, aside from a collection of posthumously collected essays published as Multiple Echo, is a small book outlining the theology of grace, in which he suggests that grace can be understood in terms of the new possibilities for meaning that God works in creation.

The Former Carisbrooke Priory as it is today

Cornelius is remembered as a shy brother possessed of an outstanding intellect, theologically creative but yet attached to the traditional contours of the classical Dominican life, funny and yet serious. These paradoxes touched on what he saw as the heart of his faith: a commitment to bringing Christian doctrine into practical contact with the ‘tradition of the human heart’ as expressed in art, novels and our natural desires for beauty, goodness and truth. He wrote, in his private diary, “I cannot allow that God can only be adored in spirit and in truth by the individual introverted upon himself and detached from all that might disturb and solicit his heart. It must be possible to find and adore God in the complexity of human experience.” May he rest in peace.

The Lord's Prayer: 'And lead us not into temptation'.

'The Temptations of Christ' 12th Century mosaic in St Mark's Basilica, Venice, Italy. 

The life of Jesus shows us that victory in the battle of temptation can become possible only through prayer. The 'Our Father' therefore becomes a tool against sin, which results from our consenting to temptation.

We must not forget then that these are the words Jesus gives us, 'Lead us not into temptation'. By asking the Father not to 'lead' us into temptation we are asking a twofold reality to come about: both 'do not allow us to enter into temptation' and 'do not let us yield to temptation'. The letter of James reminds us that 'God cannot be tempted and he himself tempts no one' (1:13). God wills for us to be free from evil. It is our own desire that allows temptation to surface, therefore we ask him not to allow us to take the way that leads to sin.

But are we supported when we ask him to lead us away from being tempted?

Yes. This petition we ask, has a beautiful thread woven in that is subtle, yet strong. We, in the words Jesus gives,  implore the Holy Spirit for discernment and strength.

The Holy Spirit enables us to discern when adversity and trials arise, which in of themselves are in fact necessary for the growth of our inner being. In this discernment we are able to see the differences between 'being tempted' and 'consenting to temptation'. We only desire what appears to be good, the Holy Spirit's gift of discernment allows us to have a reality check. Is what we perceive to be a 'delight to the eye and desirable', actually the opposite, and in reality its fruit is sin, which leads to death. This power of discernment given is not a gloomy reality, it is a way in which the believer is both empowered and transformed joyfully as they journey through life.

Manuscript depicting Origen of Alexandria. 

Origen writes: 

God does not want to impose the good, but wants free beings... There is a certain usefulness to temptation. No one but God knows what our soul has received from him, not even we ourselves. But temptation reveals it in order to teach us to know ourselves, and in this way we discover our evil inclinations and are obliged to give thanks for the goods that temptation has revealed to us'

(De Orationis 29).


The plea therefore, 'Lead us not into temptation' from this most powerful of prayers, implies that we need to make a decision of the heart with the assistance of the Holy Spirit. One of my favourite lines from scripture, which is sung in my weekly prayer, sums up this reality so accurately, 'For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also'. Mt 6:21.

But if the feeling of temptation is too much for me, why does a loving God the Father enable me to feel weighed down with temptation? Again we must remind ourselves what Scripture says... 'No testing has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your strength, but with the temptation will also provide the way of escape, so that you may be able to endure it' (1 Cor 10:13).

The Temptation of Thomas Aquinas.

'We do not pray to change the divine decree, but only to obtain what God has decided will be obtained through prayer'. St Thomas Aquinas - Summa Theologiae. 

It is by his prayer that Jesus vanquishes the tempter, both at the outset of his public mission (see mosaic at the top of this post) and in the completing action and struggle of his agony on the cross. In this divine instructive prayer of the 'Our Father' then, Christ unites us with his battle and his agony. He encourages us to be in vigilant communion with his heart. Also, we cannot ignore the collective pro noun here, the word.. 'us' lead... 'us'.  Jesus is teaching us to pray this not only for ourselves, but that of the whole Church. United in his words to the Father, 'keep them in your name'. We are never alone in the battle of prayer over temptation, feel supported when next saying this line in the 'Our Father', that all those saying it are saying it for you and themselves, just as Jesus did, and as we will, in our last temptation of our earthly battle. When praying this line therefore we are ultimately asking for our final perseverance.    

'Lo, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is he who is awake' (Rev 16:15).

Remembering fr Clifford Bertrand Pike OP

During the month of November we remember and pray for the dead. This year, as in previous years we shall be running a series of posts in which we recall the departed brethren of the Order.

Reviewing some of the obituaries of our brothers from the 1950s, it is striking, during this centenary anniversary of the outbreak of the First World War, how life in the Order during this time was profoundly affected by war, with many friars serving with great distinction as military chaplains.

The life of Fr Clifford BertrandPike OP was no exception to this. Born in Bristol on 26 September 1884, one of five brothers, all of whom were educated by the Benedictines at Ampleforth, he was admitted to the Dominican Order at Woodchester in 1905 and made his profession on 27 March 1906. His younger brother Fr Anthony Alfred Pike OP would follow him into the Order two years later. He studied philosophy and theology at Hawkesyard, was ordained priest there on 28 October 1911, and at the conclusion of his studies was appointed to teach in the apostolic school in September 1913.

The following year he was assigned to London where he worked in the parish until 1916, when he became a military chaplain and served in France. He was taken prisoner, but was soon released, and once more took up his duties as chaplain until the end of the war.

Consolation amidst devastation, Mass in the battlefield

Thus in December 1918 he returned to the London priory, and in 1920 he was chosen as Subprior. His next appointment was as Headmaster at Laxton in 1928, but the Provincial Chapter of 1932 made him Vicar Provincial in South Africa. He held this office for three years until 1935 when he was once more assigned to London to work in the Parish.

Salve Regina Procession at the end of Vespers in the London Priory Church 2014

In 1940 he became Parish Priest at Woodchester and Subprior in 1941, but returned to London once more in 1944, where he was to spend the remainder of his life continuously and devotedly occupied with parish work. He died peacefully on 19 May 1954 at the age of 70 with 48 years of profession and 42 of priesthood.

The esteem in which he was held by those who he had laboured so diligently and lovingly for so many years was evidenced by the fact that the vast London church was unable to accommodate all those who came to his funeral. He was buried at the priory cemetery at Woodchester.

Our Father, 'As we forgive those who trespass against us'

It almost comes as an afterthought during prayer. And yet it is not. "Forgiveness is the most underrated virtue", a father tells his daughter in a moving scene in the thoughtful movie Calvary. But forgiving is going to save her life. It is immediately clear that this father is not talking about God's forgiveness, but of our own. Why is forgiving someone who has done me wrong so difficult?

At the end of the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15: 11-32), we find that there is not only a forgiving father, but also a son, a brother, who needs to forgive. And we can feel for this loyal son. He stayed on, while the other went. He did the work, and the other partied. And slowly his heart must have grown cold towards his brother. And then suddenly his brother returns. And all is forgiven. Really? His father may have lost his marbles, but he certainly has not. And so he refuses to join the celebrations. After a little while, the father comes out to the elder son, encouraging him to forgive and rejoice at the return of his brother. And we are left with a cliffhanger. Will he, or will he not?

When we are hurt, we are tempted to hold on to what we know (the pain) and what we can control (our anger). But we have to let go. It will not be easy. And it will not happen at once. Even the early disciples were struggling with this idea. An obviously exasperated apostle Peter asked Jesus "Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?" It sounds reasonable, he is your brother, so you don't throw him out immediately. But surely, after seven times, the message should be clear, right? Wrong! Jesus answered, "not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times" (Matt. 18:21-22). Jesus' answer is not about doing the sums, but points to something else: the importance of forgiving itself. Not only for this brother who has done Peter wrong, but also for Peter himself. Why?

For one thing, not forgiving not only means that I block my relation with the other, but also block my self. I will not be free if I cannot let go of feelings of hatred and hurt. It is like a ship that can not leave the harbour because an anchor has not been raised. Feelings of hatred and hurt prevent me from leaving the harbour of self-chosen pity. If I want to sail to the wind of God's love, I have to cut this faulty anchor. I have to forgive unconditionally. So that I can be free to do what He asks of us: to serve Him without fear in charity and love (Luke 1: 74-75).

All Saints - Exsultate Justi!

In England and Wales, the feast of All Saints is being celebrated today (and All Souls tomorrow). With the music of our prayers let us lift our hearts to God, as we praise him with all the saints in heaven.

The following piece, Exsultate justi, is a setting by Ludovico da Viadana (1564-1645) of Psalm 32:1-2:

Exsultate justi in Domino: rectos decet collaudatio. 

Confitemini Domino in cithara. In psalterio decem chordarum psallite illi. 

 Cantate ei canticum novum: bene psallite ei in vociferacione.

Let the just rejoice in the Lord: it is fitting for the upright to praise him.

Sing to him to the psaltery and the ten-stringed lute.

Make him a new song: sing to him well with strong voice.

Sung by the Cantoria Sine Nomine di Castelnuovo (Italy), directed by Carlo Andriollo