Dear Gabriel,
In today’s Gospel (Luke 7:19:20), John asks of Jesus:
Are you the one?
Hours later, lying awake, I thought on this question. It is really the only important question we have to ask at all, because everything depends upon its answer.
Is he the one? I wish I could give you an absolute answer of certain faith. But at least we can ask the question with an open mind.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
It is worth also looking underneath the great and noble for the holy. On this, the feast day of St. John of the Cross we are reminded of some of the greatest Mystical poetry ever written, particularly from ‘Dark Night of the Soul’.
On that glad night,
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything,
with no other light or guide
than the one that burned in my heart.
But it was something else that caught my eye and held my attention at Mass. At the sign of peace, while we were shaking hands with each other in our usual, slightly awkward way, I noticed an old man kiss a small picture of someone held in his hand. I wondered if it might be his deceased wife. If so I had seldom seen such a lovely gesture.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
I had not thought about it before, but ‘Lucy’ which I think of as a very English name. It actually comes from the Latin for ‘light.’ It’s worth looking at origins of names for some deeper meaning.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
It is always worth looking for little bonuses. The road on the way to Mass was icy and I fell on my wrist. We never made it, but listening later on the radio, I heard a brief mention of the Magnificat and what it means in Latin and English.
My soul doth magnify the Lord.
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid;
for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
Because he that is mighty,
hath done great things to me;
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is from generation unto generations,
to them that fear him.
He hath shewed might in his arm:
he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart.
He hath put down the mighty from their seat,
and hath exalted the humble.
He hath filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He hath received Israel his servant,
being mindful of his mercy:
As he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his seed for ever.
It seems to me that this simple prayer, the words spoken by Mary to the Archangel Gabriel are enough in themselves for contemplation and a glimpse into the truth of the human condition.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
I stood upon the footbridge and this time no dark reflection stared back. The stream glinted gaily in the bright snow, reflected from the white of the land like glass, the reeds bending to life’s strong flowing force.
As I looked up I saw the sad mounds that hide deep the remains of Orford Priory. Five hundred years have passed and now in this silent valley this morning at the deep darkened dawn, monks would say vigils and Lauds, travelers would rest a while in the guesthouse peace while laborers tilled their wide fields. Yet what of this vanished world now enclosed and valley left empty by decree?
By that cottage barn, a rusting tractor – even that rendered redundant by the march of the great combine.
But was not there one day a better world, when this valley teemed with life, work, prayer and family toil?
And the then these thoughts I banished, and fashioning a stick from a falling branch, I walked slowly homeward, the brilliant snow and yellow sun my only sight.
And in this was the huge Wold landscape, the only living thing, the dog that walked at my side.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
I couldn’t get to Mass today, so instead I went to the Rosary Group. They were saying the Mysteries of Light, starting with the baptism of Christ, the marriage at Cana, the Proclamation of the Kingdom, the Transfiguration, then finally the Institution of the Eucharist. At the words:
he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me…
it was almost as if I were taking part in a proper celebration of the Eucharist. I am not telling you that just saying the words can ever be a replacement for the real experience of going to Mass but if that is all you have time for, or can do, it is a good substitute.
Yours,
Thomas
Drear Gabriel,
This Feast may have perplexed you, as it has me over the years.
How could a woman, a mere mortal, have been made sinless all her life? Start by looking at the story in an allegorical way. If God exists, he would need a messenger – Christ. If Christ, God and Man, exists, he needs a mother, wholly human – the Virgin Mary. As a mother of God, she cannot be with sin. Anyway, away with these baffled attempts at argument.
I went to a Mass in the Little Oratory for my son’s school.
During the singing of the ‘Credo,’ The Schuola of boys’ voices took over to sing the “Homo Factus Est”. They sang it so slowly and beautifully and with such feeling, that tears welled in my eyes. Ultimately, religion is not and cannot be a rational experience. It has to be enjoyed as an emotional one.
Yours ever,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
I went today to a Carol Service taken by the Archbishop of Canterbury. I love this man’s sermons. His voice has such a rich, deep quality, his thoughts so penetrating and profound. His simple message: God’s Kingdom is here already all about us in this world. We don’t have to strive to create it on Earth.
Indeed, that might be counter-productive, because I suppose our version might be very different from others. So, dear Gabriel, wherever you are, do not despair. I am in a café as I write this. God may be seated at the next table. We may not be able to see Him that I do not know yet, though I hope one day to know with certainty that He is there.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
It is strange how little catastrophes can help lead one to a truth. I have a little statue of an angel left to me by my mother. A child had dropped it, weeks before probably, and she was missing her hands.
I spent the afternoon on the dusty floor of the study – peering into corners – and finally found two tiny, broken off hands. Then, with difficulty, I tried to stick them back on with Super Glue. The glue stuck to my hands, which then stuck together with one of the broken hands. I botched it, but, dear Gabriel, in this job I found much pleasure. Eventually, with her hands slightly askew, and I fear upside down, the virgin was again in prayer. Try to find pleasure from little problems and the contemplation they bring.
Yours Ever,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
At the monastery today we looked in great detail at John 11 – the Raising of Lazarus. This was the end of our retreat and it was only right that having looked last Easter at the parable of the Vine we should end with this. At first, reading these passages can be done almost too easily. It’s only with repeated readings and exegesis that the full majesty and depth of virtually every feature comes to the fore. And every sentence has another meaning.
I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
As I read this passage several times and imagined it and studied the picture exhibited in the Abbey Church, attributed to Borromeo, of the raising of Lazarus, an extraordinary coming of certainty and belief in the truth of the story came to me. I know that I have often doubted, but, dear Gabriel, I tell you that it is worth reading and pondering on. Something special might happen for you, too.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
Try getting away occasionally and going on a retreat, even if only for a couple of days. I am at Downside at the moment. I love this place in its rural setting, especially at twilight, as the candles flicker around the Lady Chapel and the statue of Christ. I felt a need to go and sit where I could look at the Blessed Sacrament.
Looking at it, problems do not go away, but they do seem less significant – as if they could be wished away. Later, during Vespers, a chant: ‘Orare Pro Me,’ repeated itself again and again. A sharp determination to overcome problems became sharper still.
On Sunday I got up early, in the dark, and sat alone in the Abbey church before Lauds. A monk came and celebrated Mass alone in a side chapel whose light was a pin prick in the great dark Abbey. Again, I pondered problems and sought solutions. But the solution was there beside me in the Eucharist and its saving grace.
Yours,
Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
It is worth looking for a spiritual aspect even in non spiritual works. I was reading Tolkien’s The Two Towers for the upteenth time today. There is a lovely passage in the Window on the West when Frodo and Sam meet Faramir in Ithillen. Before they eat, the men of Gondor turn to the West.
We look towards Numenor that was, and beyond to Elvenhome that is and that which is beyond Elvenhome which will ever be.” Tolkien was religious but is careful to excise it from the ‘Lord of the Rings.’ But here is a passage that points to his belief in heaven.
Dear Gabriel,
I was reading a passage from a religious book with a friend. It said “view death not as an end but just changing homes.” It is a good thought, but you might go further. Death is not just changing homes because heaven is here now, all around us. If it exists, I don’t think that it is in some distant place up in the sky or in space. It is here now; it is as if you could stretch out and put your hand through that curtain in the room and it would be there.
Yours,
Doubting Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
I had to go to a very difficult meeting with a friend of mine today – a priest. It actually went quite well, contrary to expectations and what was said at the beginning. Afterwards, travelling back on the tube he told me he had left a holy meditation in one of the seats. Mother Theresa used to do this.
I know we like to think we are rationalists and this sort of magic is mumbo jumbo, but don’t dismiss that which goes beyond the rational. Be prepared to be a bit magical.
There is so much beyond the perverse world which we cannot comprehend.
Yours,
Doubting Thomas
Dear Gabriel,
Today, the reading is about the Centurion.
And when Jesus entered into Capernaum, there came unto him a centurion, beseeching him, and saying, Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy, grievously tormented. And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and heal him. The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed. [Matt. 8]
Of course, for the Jews listening to Jesus, what would have struck them about this story was that it took a hated Roman Conqueror to be so happy to accept Jesus’ will and be so strong in faith. But this story is very relevent in this doubting world.
We are Romans – the last people who might have faith – and therefore this story is for us.
Today, at the start of the Church’s liturgical year, I start a new series of Another Country. I will do it in the form of a letter to one of my six children, but so that I don’t favour any particular one, I shall address it to one we never had – Gabriel.
We always liked this name, but never used it.
Dear Gabriel,
Today a copy of Awake arrived from the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I would never join them, but some of their literature is worth reading, so be polite when they turn up at your door!
They give five secrets of happiness:
1) Love people, not money or possessions. ‘The love of money is a root of all sorts of injurious things.’ [Timothy 6:10]
2) Resist the urge to compare yourself with others. ‘Do your work well and then you will have something to be proud of.’ [Galatians 6:4]
3) Maintain an appreciative attitude. ‘In connection with everything, give thanks.’ [Thessalonians 5:18]
4) Chose your friends wisely. ‘He that is walking with wise persons will become wise.’ [Proverbs 13:2]
5) Satisfy your spiritual needs. ‘Happy are those conscious of their Spiritual need.’ [Matthew 5:3]
I would add to the first: love people not power or reputation. Easy for me to say, because I have been in the backbenches for twenty-five years and have never been offered power. But the love of power is as corrosive to speaking your own truth in your own way as the love of money. Perhaps it is worse.
To the second, I would add: Resist the urge to compare yourself to what you might have been or may become. Live for the present to help you work at the present. Look at nature – not just a glorious star flecked sky or sunset, but also the leaves of a plane tree in a city.
This helps in the third instruction – to maintain an appreciative attitude. If all else fails, remember that you are alive.
The fourth speaks for itself.
The fifth is the most important: ‘Satisfy your spiritual needs.’ The world has grown enormously in material happiness and, particularly in the West, stalled on spiritual happiness. I don’t quite know why. Perhaps we can investigate these together later.
This is the last week of the Church year. The readings are from the book of the Apocolypse. For the Atheist, this is one of the most wildly incomprehensible and ridiculous books of the New testament.
Even if you don’t believe in its content, however, you can still love the poetry. Today’s reading:
And after these things I heard a great voice of much people in heaven, saying, Alleluia; Salvation, and glory, and honour, and power, unto the Lord our God:
For true and righteous are his judgments: for he hath judged the great whore, which did corrupt the earth with her fornication, and hath avenged the blood of his servants at her hand.
And again they said, Alleluia And her smoke rose up for ever and ever.
(Revelation 19:1-3)
Christopher Hitchens, one of our most prominent atheist commentators, was in the Times today. He has a very severe cancer. He has put his view of death rather nicely. He doesn’t fear death because he won’t know about it, but if he does wake up in an afterlife, he says it will be a pleasant surprise.
I once heard Billy Graham saying much the same thing: “I don’t fear death, only dying.”
Billy Graham has seemingly unconquerable faith. Christopher Hitchens may have little or none, but they are not far apart – and I am in the middle.
If you go to the 10:30 Mass at the Cathedral, you sometimes come across a funeral. Most funerals are private affairs in a small chapel. Here there were few members of the family but the usual 50 or so strangers seated around the vast building. I feel a bit of an interloper on these occasions, but actually, it sums up that death is for anyone, anytime. Eileen was the lady whose funeral it was. I never met her and perhaps never will. Or perhaps I may.
Mata Amritanandamayi again:
Personally I am not interested in celebrating my birthday. The real ‘birthday’ is when the thought ‘I was born’ dies. If we were to live each day as our last day – that is, to live each day to the fullest and share as much love as possible, then each day would be like a birthday: each day would be a celebration. In fact, we should realise that every birthday is also a ‘death day,’ because every birthday takes us closer to death. But people are afraid of death, so in order to forget death, they celebrate their birth instead.
We paid a visit to another old school of mine (I have several), the Reading Oratory in Berkshire. This is the only school to be founded by a Saint – Cardinal Newman. At first he only had seven boys. One of his ideas in education was that the headmaster should know all his boys’ names – not too hard with just seven! I paid a visit to Norris House where I was a boy. It was sad to see a picture of my late brother there. Underneath it, there seemed to be a picture of my youngest son – but it was me forty-five years ago. Anxious, serious and surprisingly neat.
We were taken to the old chapel. In my day, we had a choice at 7:30 of prep or Mass. Mass was preferable, because one could go to sleep there. It seemed as old and as unchanged as ever.
Thank you to Clive Dytor, the Headmaster, for taking us round and for turning the school around to become one of the best Catholic schools in the Country. Newmanesque, he knows the names of all the boys. In my day, the head was a kindly but fierce Benedictine Monk who, for some reason, wouldn’t let me go to Winston Churchill’s lying-in-state, He thought my studies should come first and that it wasn’t fair on the other boys who didn’t have a ticket… Fair enough.
At school, I went into the bottom set – 4d (yes, there was a 4a, 4b and a 4c). They told us that Latin was beyond us, so I led a revolt, saying we should be allowed to do it. To the credit of the authorities, they let us. It was my earliest political victory. There haven’t been many since.
I went to the Confirmation service of my son at the Brompton Oratory. It was sobering and almost uncanny to see the children in the same place, in the same uniforms, reciting the same things as I had done nearly half a century previously.
I even remember the Bishop asking us all a question. My hand shot up – my first political act – and typically, I got the answer wrong! After the Confirmation in Latin we had Benediction, all according to the rite. The timeless words drifted in and out of my mind. Whether they penetrated the minds of the boys is debatable, but they will not forget the experience, even in fifty years time.
Tantum ergo Sacramentum
Veneremur cernui:
Et antiquum documentum
Novo cedat ritui:
Praestet fides supplementum
Sensuum defectui.
Walking from a constituency engagement in Market Rasen to my home, I descended the valley and was faced with an extraordinary contrast of shades of green, pale blue, browns and an utterly still lake, shining like glass. It was a scene of extraordinary beauty and peace. If felt almost like nature’s response to the woes of the world.
I went to confession and confessed that I was too easily irritated by other people. Within a few minutes of penance, I went to mass and was soon irritated by the person in front of me talking. My sin free period had lasted precisely ten minutes.
At Mass this week we were reminded that Mass can come in many different forms. Latin or English, traditional music or guitars – but ultimately it is a tool to achieve a numinous experience and a path to experience the divine.
I went to the Stonyhurst dinner. There was an excellent talk by the curator of the museum.
Objects have a wonderful power which words don’t, as we saw in the ‘History of the World in A Hundred Objects.’ The collection at Stonyhurst is wonderfully eclectic: a beautiful book of hours, capes, and even the eye of a Matyr. History is here under one’s hands.
November is a month of praying for the dead. A humanist sees this as a pointless exercise. Even as a religious person, I feel it difficult.
What, precisely, are we trying to achieve for the dead person? A quicker passage through Purgatory, perhaps? Reading this month’s Oratory Magazine, we are told that it is one of the most important things we can do. I tried it out with initial reluctance.
Curiously, once I had prayed for three friends that had died, I felt a lot better – as if I had achieved something.