BUILDING UP, KNOCKING DOWN

Those were glorious childhood days!  Each summer our parents would take us for a holiday at the seaside. There my brothers and I would process to the beach with our buckets and spades.  Naturally our eldest brother was Chief Architect and Clerk of the Works, as we set about building a magnificent sand castle.

With delicate precision one of us would gently shape the walls with his hands. Another of us would cut a channel to bring water from the sea to the moat, dug by another brother with his wooden spade. Once these tasks had been completed we would fill our buckets with damp sand, then turn them upside down to make the turrets. The ‘moment of grace’ came when we adorned our beautiful castle with shells and sea-weed. Construction completed, Union Jack hoisted on the largest central turret, and then, that special moment when the Master-builder, our eldest brother, would remove the sand dam from our channel. Imagine our delight and pride when the water rushed up the channel and surrounded the moat one of had dug. 

But, then as we stood back to admire our magnificent edifice, a large wave rushed in and swamped our beautiful castle.  What had taken hours to build was washed away in seconds.  What a shame; what a loss.  We were distraught.

But much later in life I reflected on other buildings -the much older, beautiful medieval cathedrals of England…far more substantial and vastly more worthwhile than our ‘play-time’ sand castles! These ancient places of worship were labours of love, expressions of deep faith and devotion. Skilled craftsmen constructed them. These were experts in carving stone and wood, and making stained glass. They devoted their skills to the glory of God.

No rush job for them!  They were prepared to take their time in producing the best they could. God, they thought, deserved only the best. A cathedral might well take decades to build. And over the centuries there would be additions and modifications.

But, horror of horrors, these masterpieces were as vulnerable as our childhood sand castle, destroyed by a not-so-giant wave. We only have to think of Coventry and Dresden cathedrals, bombed to ruins in the Second World War. Laboriously produced masterpieces were reduced to ruins in a matter of moments.  More recently, ancient monuments, thousands of years old, were shattered to pieces in the war on Iraq –the cradle of civilization.

How laborious and time-consuming it is to build; how easy and swift it is to destroy!  If that’s the case with buildings made with wood, stone and mortar, it’s much truer and more devastating with people, made of flesh and blood.  A single bullet can instantly put an end to a life; a vicious, perhaps careless, word can destroy a person’s reputation or self-confidence. These may have taken years to build up. In an instant they can be shattered.

Jesus came to restore and renew our lives shattered by sin.  He is the Good Physician who came to heal us people, who have been damaged, wounded, in so many ways.  He wants to give to us, restore to us, the fullness of life.

Certainly I meet Jesus by recognizing my need of Him, and then by turning to Him for the balm of His healing mercy. But He has also called you and me to work with Him in building people up, when they’ve been brought low. 

Though a devastating word may give us a great sense of power and satisfaction, being demolition experts has no part in our Christian vocation. We have been called to be re-construction workers, restorers of God’s damaged masterpieces. 

In such casualties I meet the wounded Christ.  With love and care, and above all with the grace of God, our task is it to build people up, not tear them down.  Thus St. Paul writes in his 2^nd Letter to the Corinthians, “Everything we do, beloved, is for the sake of building you up,” (2 Cor. 12. 19).  That is especially true when we have to correct someone, as Paul again says, “So I write these things while I am away from you, so that when I come, I may not have to be severe in using the authority that the Lord has given me for building up and not for tearing down. (2 Corinthians 13.10).

Isidore O.P. 
 

MY BABEL MOMENT

Have I gone mad?   Or is it the rest of the world that’s gone crazy?   That disturbing question was forced upon me when I was doing some typing on my computer.  Inexplicably a pair of scissors, scissors -instead of the intended letter -appeared when I struck a key.   That was followed by a pair of spectacles –yes spectacles.   What had I done to deserve this?!  Something similar happened on another occasion when my computer produced Greek letters.  Why? Why? Bemused, I exclaimed, “It’s all Greek to me!”  -a phrase we English use when we don’t understand something, but which would be completely intelligible to the inhabitants of that country.

As with the scissors and spectacles I asked myself, “What had I done to provoke my computer to react in such a bizarre and unpredictable manner?  More importantly, how could I remedy a text which had become absolutely meaningless, totally useless?”  As I pressed different keys no solution appeared. Gradually panic set in, then hysteria.  I seemed to be trapped in a world of gobble-di-gook.   How could I escape?  Would I ever again be able to compose something coherent?

Was I or my computer having a Babel moment?  Remember the Biblical story of people, in their pride, building a tower tall enough to reach up to heaven, to God’s realm?  What folly to think anyone could reach God by his own efforts!  To cut them down to size the Lord knocked over their tower and reduced them to a state of confusion. That was the popular explanation for the present diversity of languages, with the lack of understanding that causes. 

My computer and I were certainly sending each other incomprehensible messages! As I typed what seemed to be reasonable my computer responded by babbling nonsense.  I hold those Babylonian builders responsible for driving a harmless old Dominican out of his wits!

 How does God want me to react to this confusion, to this madness–to my orderly world getting out of control?  How did I react?  Certainly my confusion revealed how little I knew about the inner workings of a computer.  Surprisingly, my problem was solved when I abandoned what seemed to me to be reasonable solutions. Only when I tried what seemed to me to be totally illogical did my computer begin to perform correctly!

Perhaps that’s what God wanted my crazy, wayward computer to teach me.  Sometimes the best, or even the only, solution is not the most obvious and rational. Frequently God’s wisdom defies human logic.   The way He behaves doesn’t seem to make sense. We are baffled; we are confused when things go wrong in our lives, when our lives descend into chaos.  We panic when we feel overwhelmed and can find no answer.   Desperately we cry, “Lord, save me. I’m sinking.”

So how did He reply to our longing for Him to rescue us from the destructive powers of sin and death? To us God’s solution seems absolute madness. Not one of us would have thought the answer would lie in the Son of God Himself becoming man, living amongst us,  dying on the cross and rising from the dead. God’s ways are certainly not our ways!   Realizing this, St. Paul exclaimed with wonder, “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways!  ³⁴ ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord?”  ( Rom. 11.33-36).   When speaking of the crucifixion Paul even had the temerity to exclaim, “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength,”   (1 Cor. 1. 25).

By accidentally stumbling on a solution to my wayward computer God wanted to remind me of the limits of my understanding, even of computers, still less of the mysteries of life and death, pain and suffering.  Humbly I must admit that I am bewildered and confused.  Humbly I must trust in God’s infinite wisdom, which defies human logic. 

And from the builders of the tower of Babel I must realize that it’s folly to try to reach God by my own efforts. Only He can raise me up to share His divine life and happiness.  My computer has taught me to recognize my limitations.  Now with Paul I can rejoice in my weakness and lack of understanding.  With him I can say, “Over to You,” as I rely on God’s wisdom and strength, not my own.  This kind of humility is not humiliating if it draws me close to God!

Isidore O.P.

Our next posting will be on 9th Nov. 

AN 'OWLING SHAME!

I was in absolute heaven!  There was I in the cool of the evening, relaxing on the verandah, from a height gazing out over the Atlantic Ocean- silver-plated by the brilliance of the tropical full moon. On a table by my easy chair was a glass of iced lime-juice and a bowl of mangoes.   What more could I desire?

 

Quite simply, a challenge!  I felt bored, restless, frustrated. I needed something that really absorbed me and defied me to get the better of it. I needed to confront and to prevail  over it.     Gazing around, wondering if anything could put some zest into my life  I found a worthy target - an owl perched on a branch that draped the parish church.

 

This was no blinking owl, no winking owl! This owl was motionless, totally absorbed in itself.    At peace with itself and with the world around it. as though nothing could disturb its serenity,  its composure..   For some reason I was annoyed with this rigid, frigid, bird          that had not the slightest interest in me.      With indifference it dismissed me as a person of no consequence..me its parish priest!      As far as it was concerned I was meaningless,  non-existent.

Well might you ask, ‘Why did I care? Why should the owl have any need of me?       And, more seriously, ‘ Why should I feel a need for this the owl to pay me the slightest attention?’ Because at last I had found the challenge I needed.     I would force this bird to acknowledge my existence. I would impose my will upon it.      I would out-face it. I would out-stare it! I would compel it to notice me!

With all my powers of concentration I stared at this owl eye-ball to eye-ball, so to speak.     I expected to make it so uncomfortable through my steady staring   that it would shift and shuffle, or better still, turn away from me.   It must have known that I had come there, into its territory, into its hunting-ground.     Fool that I was, it hadn’t occurred to me that it might have pounced on this hostile intruder!

By now you might be thinking I’d embarked upon a crazy escapade.     Kindly take note. When travelling in a bus or when at the cinema     I’ve amused myself  by staring hard at the back of the neck of the person in front of me  -a complete  stranger.  On rare occasions I’ve been successful.      Eventually, my target has looked round, bewildered, unsettled  and smiled  at me sheepishly…and mumbled some kind of  greeting. 

What more could he do? He couldn’t accuse me of anything.       There have been times when I’ve been able to disconcert the odd cat or dog – by staring at it.

As for influencing owls…I’m a failure.    An ‘Owling’ failure!  And for me this is an ‘owling shame.  That unyielding owl convinced me it had its own life to live and so had I.     it was not my business to want to control its life.    And now I think of it, it’s quite out of order for me to try to control the life of another single person… not even when I mean well.
 

As a priest I’m not meant to try to live anyone’s life for him…  to be a director or controller of anyone….ever.   

This is one of the hardest things for a conscientious priest to accept…and one of the most humbling.     The same is surely true for caring devoted parents.    They long for their children to lead godly lives, but there comes a time,  as they approach young adulthood, when they, priest and parent,   can do no more than lead by example, offer advice, try to persuade and love and pray,  love and pray!  And never give up loving and praying for anyone.

This may sound like a counsel of despair. Far from it!        Right from the very beginning God gave human beings their own free wills.       In so doing God has always allowed them to make their own choices, even ungodly ones.

BUT– and it’s a mighty big ‘but’ – God will never, never, abandon any one of us  –no matter how  wicked the choices we may make.       He will never cease to offer us the graces that would persuade us to turn towards Him.     His will to save will remain unwavering.

                          This I know, God really cares about me, takes care of me,                    

       but somehow,    I don’t think God is particularly interested

         about whether or not owls care one hoot for me!’

Peter O.P.

On 26th Oct. Isidore will reflect on Meeting God  in "My Babel Moment."

TIN-CAN GLORY

I’ve spent almost the whole of my priestly life working in the Caribbean islands of Grenada and Barbados. That’s over fifty years. I know what it’s like to labour in the heat of the day. My heart goes out to that little girl who asked of her mother why they always had to have a tired priest for their Sunday Mass. Hers would have been my third celebration of the morning – each one being in a different place; each one being a gorgeous act of worship lasting well over an hour.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Mine has been a very contented priesthood, sprinkled with the sweet and the sour, the smooth and the rough. Taking a rest after my Sunday lunch has made it possible for me, from a temperate climate, to cope with the tropical heat and humidity, as well as with the heavy work-load.

Life was never meant to be as easy as we would like it to be! Time was when I was pastor of a parish with the church and presbytery right in the heart of the town.   There was this darling toddler who would bottle up his noisy energy throughout the week and then release it on Sunday afternoons as he paraded up and down the street that passed just under my room. He’d got hold of a large dried-milk tin and, in a state of sublime ecstasy, was pounding the very life out it with a stick.

Perhaps he’d been captivated by the melodious sounds stroked out of the steel pans of the  West Indies. Could be this little fellow aspired to belonging to the police band when he grew up. One thing I do know for sure is that drums belong to the culture of the West Indies. Many a secondary school has its drum corps which leads the ‘March Past’ of the competing Houses at the annual sports.   Even the infant schools have to find some drummers to ‘ beat the beat’ as they proudly  ‘march the march’ at their own sports.

My head throbbed with weary pain as this drummer- boy adorned the Day of the Lord with tin-can glory! Grudgingly I groped towards the window to see what was going on.  There, before my sleepy eyes, was a child radiant with joy as admiring folk clapped their hands to his beat. If I’d intervened I would probably have lost next Sunday’s congregation (as well as the collection).

All this happened many years ago but it surfaced in my memory as I listened to the readings of the Mass of the day. Sorry but it’s true …irreverently, uninvited, this Blog sprang into being as I heard of St. Paul carrying on about booming  gongs and tinkling cymbals. Perhaps his siesta had been disturbed by a lusty drum-beater or tin-can- basher. Any way he was one who in irritation considered that those who speak without love had much in common with the gongs and cymbals that emit a hollow, empty noise! ( see I Cor. 13) I’m sure he would have added tin-cans to his list of offenders.

Now I must watch myself. I find myself rushing in a direction that is totally unacceptable to me.  I would never have wanted to chide the little boy for being so noisily naughty. (Or should it be ‘naughtily noisy?’) There was never a grain of malice in his little heart.  That Sunday afternoon he was a source of laughter and happiness to his admiring audience.

His spectators were in step with his exuberance. I, the sleepy priest, was probably the only one in town who was out of step with his beat!

Now, what about this for a happy liturgical coincidence? In the Gospel of that same day Jesus spoke of  those grumbling discontents who were like, ‘ children shouting to one another while they sit in the market place: We played the pipes for you, and you wouldn't dance; we sang dirges, and you wouldn't cry,’(Lk.7).

I feel that this memory, brought to the surface during the Mass itself, was godsway of telling me I will never be happy, and I will never deserve to be happy, if I insist on people accommodating themselves to my convenience. Once I allow other people  (such as this little boy) to have ‘their moments’ I shall find inner peace- even though it may be amidst some tribulation –such as the loss of a much desired, greatly needed, siesta!

TUNING IN

A few years ago I had to start using a hearing aid.  I was told that it would take a few months for my brain to filter out the background noise.  That certainly proved to be very true!   At first the birds were deafening.  But after a time I hardly noticed them, unless I deliberately wanted to tune into them.

This reminded me of my first going to the W. Indies.  There, in the evening, lots of tiny tree frogs, smaller than a finger nail, would whistle so loudly that I could hardly think.  I don’t know whether it was my imagination, but they seemed to make much more noise after a down-pour of rain.  But, as with my hearing aid, after a time my brain-filter worked so well that I didn’t notice the little frogs singing their hearts out.

But after I’d returned to England Peter sent me a recording of an evening Mass in Barbados.  Since the recorder lacked a sound-filter the chorus of frogs drowned out the beautiful singing of the choir.  At least I’m told it was beautiful, but I must take that on trust, since the frogs didn’t allow me to hear it!

This got me thinking about the way the background or surrounding noise in our lives can easily drown out the voice of the Lord.  It’s not only that today we seem uncomfortable with silence, but life is so hectic.  We don’t have time to stop, to listen, to notice. As the poet, W.H. Davies wrote, “What is this life so full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.”  In our hectic, noisy rush we can miss so much that is good and beautiful.  Because it is priceless it is dismissed as worthless –a waste of time.

This can be very true of God. In the Book of Revelation the risen Lord says, “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me,” (Rev.3.20).  Jesus wants to enter and share our lives, but He won’t force Himself up us.  So he knocks and waits for us to open up to Him and let Him in. That word, “listen” is vital.  He respects us too much to force Himself upon us, when He’s not wanted. So He knocks and waits. But if there’s too much background noise in our lives we won’t even hear His knock and He will remain outside.

But perhaps, horror of horrors, that’s what we really want!  We fear that what He has to say will be uncomfortable and demanding.  So we turn up the volume, smother the sound of His knock and try to get on with our lives without Him.   And yet to stifle the Word of God would be the worst thing we could ever do to ourselves.  That would mean that we had deliberately broken off communication between us and God!   Amos makes the dire prediction,  “The time is surely coming, says the Lord God, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, or a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord,” (Amos 8.11).  Starvation of the Word of God means spiritual death!  For as St. Peter said, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life” (Jn. 6. 68).  Life would be meaningless without Jesus nourishing us with His loving word.

The whistling frogs have taught me that if I am to meet God I must not allow the clamour around me to deafen me to the voice of God, sometimes speaking with a soft, gentle voice.  When I really want to concentrate I may need to switch off my hearing aid and close my windows so that I can shut out all distracting bird songs, or in the W. Indies, whistling frogs. Switching to the image of a radio, I need to tune into the “God Station” if I’m to hear His voice loud and clear, and tune out of other stations that are enjoyable but distracting.  Then, hopefully, I will heed the Psalmist, “O that today you would listen to His voice!  Do not harden your hearts,” (Ps. 95. 7-8).   And, hopefully, with the young Samuel I will always reply, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” (1 Sam. 3. 9).

Isidore Clarke O.P. 

P.S. Peter has just told me that recently one of these tiny whistling frogs hopped into his glass of rum.  Had it evolved with a taste for the golden nectar?  If Peter had swallowed it, he would have had a frog in his throat and would have whistled whenever he spoke. That would have made for unusual sermons!

The next posting will on 21st September when Isidore will reflect on Meeting God in his 'Babel Moment.'

GOD'S FOOLS

Some forty years ago an angry young lady attacked me with the words, “You hate women!” She’d just learnt that I belonged to a Religious Order –the Dominicans. To her my vows meant that I rejected all women.  She felt personally insulted.  Not that she had any designs on me –a complete stranger.  But my way of life was alien and offensive to her.  It seemed unnatural.  In her eyes I was a fool for throwing away my life. She certainly was not alone in what she thought about us members of Religious Orders.

This incident made me realize how awful it must be for many of you, when even your family and friends think you’re out of your mind, mad  -just because you’re following your deepest convictions and they can’t go along with you. It’s not because your ‘pushing religion’ on anyone. Simply, you’re different and that makes them feel uncomfortable.

Out of the goodness of their hearts they want to ‘liberate’ you from your religious hang-ups.  Then you would be able to enjoy the same freedom as them –with no clergyman telling you what you should  do, and, especially, should not do.

They urge you to break free and start living.  With their every jibe and criticism those who should be supporting you threaten to undermine your commitment to following Christ. They have a drip, drip, drip effect which can gradually erode your confidence.  If that’s the way you’re treated you will feel isolated and lonely. In dark moments you wonder, “Perhaps they are right.  Perhaps you are the crazy one.”

These reflections have been brought home to me by friends telling me what an uphill battle it was, trying practise their faith. They had so much discouragement; so little support. People were so negative about their Christian way of life.

But I’m fortunate. Unlike many committed lay Christians, I do have the support of belonging to a community, with all its members sharing the same ideals. That, of course, is one of the many reasons why I joined the Dominicans.  And it does strengthen our resolve when like-minded people come together to pray –say, for Sunday Mass or a pilgrimage.  Then we realize many sane people are prepared to be God’s fools –and do so publically. We’re not alone!

In fact Mark’s Gospel (3. 20-21) tells us Jesus’ relatives thought He was mad.  We Christians are in good –no, the best company! The incident happened when such a large crowd had gathered around Christ’s home that His relatives couldn’t get in to have a meal.   That was too much for them!  Thinking He was crazy, they decided to take Him in hand –to teach Him some common sense!  Jesus, they thought, lacked the practical wisdom and sense they possessed.  They must put Him right –before He harmed Himself and other people.

From a worldly point of view they were right.  After all, Jesus had given up the carpenter’s business, which He would have inherited from Joseph.  He had embarked on the life of a wandering preacher, with no visible means of support.  He’d persuaded fishermen to abandon the security of their jobs and follow Him, a starry-eyed stranger  -God alone knew where he would take them!  

As for the company He kept, Jesus was most unwise. He dined with tax collectors and sinners. Really, He should have known better!  People would talk; they were talking. They would identify Him with the kind of company He kept.

Worse still, Jesus was antagonising the religious authorities by His teaching. He had a cavalier approach to the observance of the Sabbath.  He was making dangerous enemies. They would eventually plot against Him and kill Him. 

Peter foresaw that danger.  So he thought it prudent to give Jesus a friendly warning not to go to Jerusalem. Peter, too, thought Jesus was irresponsible; He was taking unnecessary, foolish risks. But far from welcoming Peter’s friendly advice Jesus rebuked him with the harshest words in the Gospels, “Get behind me Satan! For you are not on the side of God, but of man.”  Why? Peter’s misguided concern for Christ’s safety transformed him from being the most loyal of his followers to his becoming the ‘enemy within’ –Peter was no longer a support. Now he’d become an enemy; now he threatened Christ’s resolve to save the world through His death on the cross.

God’s ways of thinking and acting are certainly very difference from ours!       In his 1^st Letter to the Corinthians St. Paul tells us there’s a divine wisdom, defying human common sense, which transcends our way of thinking. To us God’s way of thinking and acting seems crazy, if not mad.  And that’s what Christ’s relatives thought when they tried to bring Him to His senses.   That’s what Peter thought when he tried to prevent Jesus from going to Jerusalem and the cross.     

And we Christians must expect people to think we are mad in following Jesus, when He challenges, secular values, secular ways of thinking and acting. Then we should remember Paul’s reassuring words, ‘For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength,’  [1 Cor. 1:25].

My way of meeting God must mean my embracing the craziness of divine love.  I must be prepared to be mocked as God’s fool, rather than being praised for being worldly-wise! 

Isidore O.P. 

On 7th September Isidore will reflect on Meeting God by 'Tuning In.'

 

PASSING IT ON

They could have saved a lot of time, money and energy. All they needed was some dry twigs and a box of matches.. At the Olympic Stadium in London it would have taken just a few moments to get the Olympic Torch burning.
Instead, what did we have? A long journey over thousands of miles, by land and air.  Countless people – young and old, strong and frail – ordinary folk and celebrities – took their turn in passing the Torch from one to another. This Torch was carried to and through every country that took part in the games. Why? Why? Why?
Because of the marvel and the magic of a symbolism that spoke to the heart of sentiments too deep for mere words; a symbolism that resonated with people of so many different languages and dialects.
The journey of our Torch started in Greece – the birthplace of the original Olympic Games, way back over two thousand years ago. In this way the athletes of our Games were being bonded with the athletes of antiquity. Wistfully I wondered if we could learn anything from that ancient custom of having an interlude of peace so that neighbouring states that  were always  fighting each other could be free to engage in peaceful athletic competition.
Amidst laughter and cheers millions of the road-side people and the TV viewers have followed our Torch travelling towards its Olympic destiny. Surely some would have caught a glimpse of the decency of the global family and felt the possibility, of a better, more loving, more peaceful world.  Indeed, this has been a relay of the living, flickering flame being passed on and on…joy, love, respect, admiration on the move, cheering the lives of so many.
With all these thoughts jostling in my mind I recall how Jesus loved to describe Himself and then ourselves, in imitation of Him, in these glowing terms,
‘I am the light of the world,’ (Jn.8.12). ,You are the light of the world,’(Mtt.5.14).’Your light must shine in people's sight, so that, seeing your good works, they may give praise to your Father in heaven,’  (Mtt. 5.16)
In its Easter Vigil liturgy the Church captures this drama of passing on a living flame from one person to another. In the darkness of the night, the faithful are gathered in a circle around a fire that has been lighted at the door of the church. Their faces are aglow with excited anticipation. The fire is blessed; the Priest, holding a small candle  hand, takes a flame from the fire, and with this lights the large Paschal Candle. This massive candle represents Jesus the glorious, risen Lord…the Light of the World!
From that moment the ‘Christ-Candle’ becomes the source of light that, gradually,  banishes the darkness within the church. On three occasions ‘The Light of Christ,’ is boldly chanted as this candle is carried down the aisle. With full hearts the congregation replies, ‘Thanks be to God.’
In the church light from Paschal candle is passed from one person to another, till whole congregation has received and passed on the Light of Christ. Surely this can be described a enlightened, Holy Communion!
The Olympic Torch traveling from Greece to London reminds me of the Torch of Faith which has travelled the journey through time from the original Pentecost down to us. Just as the brightness of the Olympic Torch rippling throughout the world has brightened our lives, so now our Faith must so ripple that those around us catch something of its radiance.
It occurs to me that since charity begins at home, then sharing the Light of Faith must surely  originate within the family when the newly born infant is brought to the church to be baptized…to be bonded to Christ our Light and through Him to be bonded to His Church.

A few moments after the infant has been baptized parents and godparents are made aware that they have received an immense  privilege. They have brought with them a small candle. One of  them lights it from the flame of the Paschal Candle. They hear the  words, ‘Receive the Light of Christ,’ and the reply, ‘Thanks be to God.’

With the words that follow it is made clear to them that this privilege entails enormous responsibilities, ‘This light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly. This child of yours has been enlightened by Christ. He (she) is to walk always as a child of the light.’

 The Olympic Torch as pointed me to the Torch which is the Paschal Candle and this to baptism candle. This is mywaygodsway of my coming to realize that beautiful ideals must travel, must radiate, must be shared and must be passed on.

Peter Clarke, OP

On 24th August Isidore will reflect on how 'God's Fools' meet God