IT'S GOOD TO BE HERE !

“It’s good to be here!”   That how we feel when we’re enjoying a holiday.  We’re glad to get away from our daily routine. We welcome the break.  The company’s good; so too the scenery, the accommodation and the food.  We enjoy relaxing on a beach, sight-seeing or shinning up a mountain.  At least for a while, we are at ease with ourselves and content with the world. For a time we can put aside our daily cares and relax.

 

That’s how Peter, James and John felt on the Mount of the Transfiguration.   True, this was no holiday break. It was something much, much better.  There, on the Mount, Jesus revealed something of His divine glory. As they relaxed with Him they experienced something of the heavenly joy to which God has called us –the sublime happiness of resting in the Lord.

 

No wonder Peter exclaimed, “Lord, it is good to be here!”  No wonder he wanted to prolong the wonderful experience of the Transfiguration.  We are so like him when we want a holiday never to end, or never to be separated from someone dear to us.  That’s how I feel when my twin brother has to return to the W. Indies, after an all-too brief holiday together.

 

During these musings on the feast of the Transfiguration my mind leapt off at a tangent.   It often does!  What, I wondered, about the times and situations, which are far from idyllic?   Given the choice, we would much prefer to be elsewhere, doing something else.    Instinctively we think, “It’s not good to be here; I wish I were somewhere else, doing something different.”  We’ve all felt like that!

 

I’ve found that if I allow that kind of resentment to persist I will always be miserable.   Far better to come to terms with what can’t be changed and try to make the best of it.   That can even be true when things go wrong, say, if we become ill, or our bosses move us from a job we enjoy to doing to something else, in another place we may not like.  That hurts, and it would be dishonest to deny the pain.  But that happens to all of us.  It’s certainly part of our Dominican vocation to be moved from house to house or country to country, job to job.

 

When things go wrong, have you had some well-intentioned person try to comfort you with the words, “It must be God’s will.”   I have, when I’ve been very ill -and it’s made me furious!   I can’t believe that a loving God could be vindictive and delight in my pain. But I can and do believe that He wants me to turn what in itself is so negative and destructive into something positive and creative.   That was certainly true of Christ’s crucifixion, through which He saved us from the power of sin and death.

 

Only in this sense can I agree that my suffering and pain must be God’s will.   He wants to help me to turn that into an opportunity for growing closer to Him. Almost certainly, only the wisdom of hindsight will enable me to say that it was good for me to be in that chaotic, painful situation.  In the meantime, part of my suffering lies in having to live in a fog of confusion and misunderstanding.  That in itself can be good for me –if it forces me to place my trust in God’s loving care for me, when I can’t understand what’s happening to me.

Hopefully I will have the docility to say, “Thy will be done” –and mean it.  Hopefully, with God’s help, even the most uncomfortable situation can become an opportunity for me to grow closer to God. I must trust that that is where He wants me to serve Him, and that He judges that is best for my eternal salvation. If so, it’s good for me to be there, in that situation –even, or perhaps especially, when I’d rather be somewhere else, doing something different. 

St. Paul reassures us, “We know that all things work together for good^* for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose,” (Rom 8. 28).  God can give us the serenity to identify with the imprisoned Paul, who could write, “I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me”  (Philippians 4. 11-13).   Such trust in God can give us the confidence to say, “Lord, it is good to be here” –in whatever situation we find ourselves!

Isidore O.P.     

The next posting will be on 23rd August.

FAMILY PRIDE

 

The male lion - what a magnificent, noble beast!  The ‘King of the Jungle’ -his roar strikes terror into his prey.  What a powerful image of Israel’s fear of its enemies, ‘Their roaring is like a lion, like young lions they roar; they growl and seize their prey, they carry it off, and no one can rescue it,’ (Is. 5. 29). No wonder Amos exclaims, ‘The lion has roared; who will not fear?’ (Amos 3. 8).    Its paws can tear its prey apart; its powerful jaws can readily crush and devour anything it fancies to eat.  Clearly, a lion should be approached with great caution!  Mess about with lions at your peril. The same is true of the devil, as St. Peter warns us, “Discipline yourselves; keep alert.  Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour,” (1 Peter 5. 8).

 But I have had to modify this terrifying image of the fearsome lion. While searching the internet, I stumbled across a beautiful picture of a male lion with its cub.  I was immediately struck by the tender bond between fearsome father and  vulnerable child.  The normally unapproachable, intimidating male lion could so easily have made a meal of its tiny, defenceless cub. And yet he welcomed it with gentle tenderness. The head of the pride of lions seems to smile with such pride!
 

 As for the tiny cub, I’m amazed at its trust.  It dared to approach the handsome, powerful male lion, to rest its nose tenderly against that of the Lord of the Jungle. That’s something I’d never dare do –even though I’m much bigger than the cub.  And the simple reason for its confidence –the cub dared to recognize him as his ‘father.’  And the father acknowledged the cub as his child.

 

 What a wonderful image of our relationship with God!  The King of the Jungle powerfully expresses the unapproachable, awesome majesty of the Lord of Heaven and Earth. We must never lose sight of that. And yet we dare to draw close to Him, without fear of being destroyed. And the simple reason for our confidence? Almighty God has shared His life with us.   He recognizes and welcomes us as His children.  That gives us the trust to approach the awesome God of Majesty –not the King of the Jungle, but Lord of Heaven and Earth. Because He acknowledges us as His children we dare to call Him ‘Father.’  That gives us the confidence, the trust, the love to presume to approach Almighty God without fear of being destroyed.

The picture of the relationship between the lion and his cub has given me a beautiful insight into a new way of meeting God.  This combines respect for His awesome majestic power, while daring to approach God, who is full of tenderness and love.  The reason for this confidence?  -the bond of love between our heavenly Father, and us, His children.

Isidore O.P

P.S. I would like to thank the photographer -unknown to me -who took the magnificent picture which inspired this posting.  Please send me your name, so that I can publically express my gratitude.

A WOOING HE WOULD GO

 

They don’t make them like that anymore –strict, no-nonsense priests who ‘tell it as it is.’ The one I have in mind would each month remind his country village congregation of eight different ways they could get themselves excommunicated from the Church. (I suspect that few of the present generation have a clue what excommunication is all about!)

No surprise, then, that this gruff cleric would advise priests of recent vintage that there’s no need to tell people about love. ‘They’ve had enough of that already. Tell them about the Last  Judgment!’

All the same, as a host he was a most considerate man. There was a time when the bishop visited his parish. After lavishly dining the Most Reverend Gentleman this pastor suggested it might well be time for him to sleep off his meal. Now, who told the parish cockerel to start crowing at that very moment?!!?

The poor bird did not live long to bewail its folly. “Off with its head,” bellowed our priest to his house-keeper, with all the authority of an eastern potentate.  Problem solved. The bishop slept soundlessly.

You might well conclude there's small chance of a priest’s life becoming boring. Let me tell you about the desperate  love-stricken young man who sent distress signals to this priest I’ve just been describing to you. 'Father, come to my rescue. . I'm going crazy. I'm in despair!'

This was an excellent fellow - handsome, talented, jovial, popular, the heart and soul of any gathering.  He could stand tall in any company, confident in the knowledge that the ladies were leaping fences to grab hold of him. Also he had a flashy car – I vital requirement of ‘him who would a wooing go!'

Already he had made his choice. The time had come when he longed to claim this adorable girl of his dreams as his own, not simply as a ‘steady date’ but as a partner for life.  In many ways, for many days, she had been signaling that she was well-satisfied with him.

And yet, such is ‘the mystery of love,' at the very moment he was about to lay bear his heart to her and plead his cause he’d lost his nerve, lost his voice. His whole being had collapsed into something resembling a wobbling jelly.

Who better, then, to be his advocate than the one man who had never been known to be at a loss for words; the one man who did not know what it was to be timid or shy; who better than this same most intimidating of priests? In the crazy world of sweet romance it was easier for him to ask, beg, this holy terror,  to speak to his lady-love on his behalf than for him to approach her himself.

Wouldn’t most of us think he was out of his mind to ask this rough-spoken priest to do for him the serenading and the wooing? My mind boggles at the thought of what words this crusty priest would have found, what cooing sounds he would have made, to persuade this ‘Princess’ that this young man was just the one for her?

What would his lady-love think of him for being too timid to speak for himself? Wouldn’t she despise him for this? Did he really expect the good Lord to work a miracle that would cause honeyed words to flow from this hard-as-rock ‘reverend?’  And yet, with God all things are possible.  Hadn’t He made honey  flow from the rock for the sake of His people in the desert?

I’m guessing our priest welcomed this outrageous challenge. Anyway, having groomed himself as befitted the occasion he went down on his knees and raised his hands to the heavens. He charmed  this bewildered girl into joyful submission as sweet words flowed from his most-times sour mouth.

And wasn’t she relieved! She had been agonizing about how much longer she would have to wait before her boy-friend ‘popped the question.’ Would she have to propose to him? At that moment she so much admired  her young man's resourcefulness in seeking the assistance of someone who had a ‘gift for words.’

With ecstatic joy she encircled  this proxy-suitor within her arms and placed a juicy kiss upon his cheek. A passer-by might have concluded that, wonder of wonders, this most off-putting of priests had somehow gained himself a wife!

Coward that I am, I’m leaving it to you to tease some spirituality out of this grand saga. I ask myself, ‘What does this say to my approaching the Lord of Lords in prayer? How do I stand in comparison to the ‘wooing ways’ of this priest?’

I dare not think what would have been the outcome if I’d had to assume  the priestly role in this drama?  Mywaygodsway?...No way!!! Please God!!!

Peter Clarke, O.P.

BONING MY KIPPER

“I was too busy boning my kipper to notice what he said!”   That was the imaginative reply, given by one of my fellow Dominican students.  The prior had just asked him to comment on the sermon I’d preached.

Once a year each of us we students had to preach a sermon during the community’s supper.  That was an excruciating experience for us trainee preachers.  We had to compete with the clatter of cutlery and crockery, the squeaks and rattles from the food trolley.  Worse still, we had to imagine that we were preaching to the typical ‘person in the pew,’ not to our Dominican brethren.

Our fellow students went through a different kind of ordeal. They had to listen to the preacher, knowing full well that the prior would randomly select one of them to comment on the sermon.  While eating his supper –perhaps boning his kipper - he had to be thinking of something intelligent to say.  After his comments the prior would then ask one of the priests in the community what he thought of the sermon.  Finally the prior himself would have his say. Three critics had a peck at the poor student preacher!

These refectory sermons were an ordeal for all of us.  The preacher would never expect to have to face such a critical congregation again, which was there to criticise rather than to be inspired.  Never would we have to preach to an imaginary audience.  Hopefully, being thrown in at the deep-end so early in our Dominican life would toughen us up for what would lie ahead.  This training exercise was probably good for us.

Sometimes the lessons we learnt were very painful.  There was the student preacher who memorized his sermon, word for word.  Unfortunately when he opened his mouth his mind went blank, paralysed with fear.  All he could do was silently withdraw, followed by the sympathy of just about everybody!  That must have been a miserable for him!  That taught me never to trust my sermons to memory.  I must always think on my feet and at least have some notes to jog my memory, in case it should ever go blank.

 

As for the community which had to listen to our first sermons –that was quite an ordeal.  I’ve been both preacher and critic, so I know. The meal was spoilt by our not knowing whether we would be asked to comment.  Since each of us had to take his turn in giving a refectory sermon our sympathies lay with the preacher of the moment. We tended to give him encouragement.  But I do suspect that some critics were far too harsh and permanently scarred some budding preachers. I know one who would never dare to preach in front of his brethren, even though the congregation liked his sermons.  I feel sure his critic would have been horrified to learn of the devastating effects his comments had had.

 The ordeal of having to preach my practice sermons against the background noise of a community of forty eating their supper has stood me in good stead.  As a result I’ve not been fazed by a baby crying, nor, in the W. Indies, by a braying donkey, a squealing, grunting pig, a bleating goat or a crowing cock.  But I must admit I had to concede defeat when a tropical rainstorm beat down upon the tin roof of the chapel in which I was preaching. The noise was deafening! I certainly could not compete with that. I was forced to bring my sermon to an abrupt end.  The same was true when a pneumatic drill got to work outside the church.  Perhaps, the Lord, is in His wisdom, had decided to silence me.

This helped to make me realize that I must place my preaching in God’s hands.   I may have to accept that He may want lessons to be drawn from my sermon, which I had not planned.

That can be hard to take.  The poor preacher who couldn’t remember the sermon he’d carefully prepared had to accept the humiliation of having to retire without having uttered a word.   From this his listeners had to learn compassionate understanding.  That could do them more good, and be more necessary, than the message the preacher had planned to give.

And the preacher may become ill and collapse during a sermon.  That’s happened to me.   Although everyone was so good in rushing to my assistance I hated all the fuss.  But perhaps God wanted both the congregation and me to appreciate and respond in a positive way to the vulnerability of us preachers.  For all of us that lesson could have been more valuable than anything I’d planned to say.

Certainly it’s good that I never take my preaching for granted.  Because I’m prone to blackouts I can never presume that I will be able to finish a sermon.  But more general than that, preaching can be a frightening experience.

 There’s a vast difference between giving a lecture and preaching a sermon.   In a sermon the preacher urges a way of life, Christ’s way of life. If he’s honest he will have to admit that he falls short of the behaviour he’s urging upon others.  As he puts himself on the line he lays himself open to the condemnation of not practising what he preaches.  None of this is true of giving a lecture, in which the speaker does not lay his life open to judgement and condemnation.

This sense of inconsistency, if not hypocrisy, a sense of unworthiness can be terrifying, even paralyzing. I’ve known preachers who have had sleepless nights, with upset stomachs, before preaching a difficult sermon.  Another used to be physically sick in the sacristy before his sermons. But I’ve found that in spite of my stage-fright the nerves disappear once I start my sermon. People simply don’t believe me when I say I’m nervous before every sermon.  A bit of anxiety keeps me on my toes and prevents me become complacent or casual in preaching.

My way of coping with my sense of inadequacy is to remind myself that God chose the foolish of this world to confound the self-styled wise. I readily number myself among the foolish!  In fact the people Jesus chose to preach the kingdom were all flawed characters.  If the preacher  needed to wait till  he was a perfect Christian before he dared to open his mouth the Gospel would never be heard.

It’s good for all of us to recognize that we’re not fit to preach the Good News.  Not one of us practises what he preaches.  The only way I can continue is to remind myself that I’m not holding up myself as an example of Christian living.  I’m recommending Christ, His way of life, not mine.  The world needs to hear about Jesus and how to follow Him to the Kingdom of Heaven.  I need to hear the Good News as much as anybody else.

So in every sermon I’m first of all preaching to myself –telling myself how I should be following Christ.  With every sermon I hold a mirror up to my life and see how I distort the image of Christ, which I should reflect.  Hopefully I listen to what I’ve said to the congregation and heed my own words.

So, I meet God through heeding my own sermons, and trying to practice what I preach.  I place the fears, the difficulties, my limitations and failures in God’s hands.  He can turn everything to His purpose and draw goodness from it.  But most importantly, we all meet God through His word, sharing it and doing it.

I bet every teacher and parent feels the same sense of inadequacy as I do in sharing my faith. If so, let’s all remember that God has given us this task.  He is with us as we do His work.  He is Lord of the harvest and has guaranteed a bumper crop, despite all the obstacles that make it difficult for us to hear the Word of God.  That certainly includes the concentration required for boning  a kipper!

 

Isidore O.P.

CALL MY BLUFF

“You wouldn’t dare!” That was my rash challenge as we rounded off an exhilarating week with singing round a camp-fire.   A group of teenagers had come to Spode Conference Centre for a week’s discussions.  These were meant to prepare them for what would lie ahead for them as Christians, after they’d left school and entered the adult world.

As a safety precaution we had a number of buckets of water at the ready.  I was tending the fire when a teasing, pushy, girl threatened to throw a bucket of water over me. I, secure in my priestly status, brashly I replied, “You wouldn’t dare!” Fool that I was! No way did I expect her to rise to such a challenge. Little did I realize I'd just put her reputation in the eyes of her peers on the line.  She had no choice. Here, the chance for unspeakable glory! ... to douse a priest, at his invitation...so to speak!   The next thing I knew I was drenched.

At that moment the world stood still. We were all in a state of amazed shock. What if she had seized the initiative and dared me to retaliate and douse her with a bucket of water? She would have had me cornered. I could not possibly have taken her up. The consequences would have been unthinkable. At that moment I was on trial with the whole circle of young people being my jury and judge.

 God came to my rescue. From my throat He forced a massive roar of indignation and then a fit of hysterical laughter. All joined in, much relieved...and most grateful for this surprise piece of entertainment.

But it certainly provided me with food for thought.... about the danger of issuing challenges and calling people’s bluff.. “Never must I do that again -unless I’m prepared to be taken up on my challenge.” And what of Annie (not her real name)?   What did she learn?  That actions do have consequences?  That there’s no telling with priests...at least with this one?

Now, this got me wondering. Does God call our bluff?    Can we call His bluff and put Him to the test?  How often have we complained, “If God really loved me He wouldn’t let me suffer; He would cure me and my loved ones. After all, we’re good people, who keep His commandments and do more than that for Him. Surely   He owes something to His loyal subjects!" Right?  No.  No. No. Wrong.   Yet how many have abandoned God, because they think He’s deaf to their prayers and that He has deserted them?”

If that’s the way we’re thinking aren’t we testing God’s love for us in the same way that Satan tempted Jesus in the desert?  There the devil challenged Jesus to throw Himself from the pinnacle of the temple.  Was He going to trust His heavenly Father to save Him from falling to His death? To this challenge Jesus replied, ‘It is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’ (Matt. 4. 7).

We cannot, we, must not, put God and His love to the test.  God doesn’t have to prove Himself; He owes us nothing; we can’t put Him in our debt.   All that He does for us is a free gift of His love, not something we deserve.  That’s why Jesus condemned the Pharisee who reminded God of all his good deeds and expected to be duly rewarded for them.  But Jesus praised the publican who threw himself on God’s mercy as He begged His forgiveness.

What about this for a way we often put God to the test?  We reason, “Since  God is all merciful He wouldn’t condemn and punish anyone, especially not a nice guy like me.” Or, “If I’m a sinner, God will always give me time to repent, so why rush to cut short the enjoyment of my sinful ways?” 

  The Book of Ecclesiasticus brings us to our senses with a bucket of cold water, “ Do not say, ‘I sinned, yet what has happened to me?’ - for the Lord is slow to anger.   Do not be so confident of forgiveness that you add sin to sin.    Do not say, ‘His mercy is great,  He will forgive the multitude of my sins’, for both mercy and wrath are with Him, and His anger will rest on sinners.  Do not delay to turn back to the Lord, and do not postpone it from day to day;  for suddenly the wrath of the Lord will come upon you,  and at the time of punishment you will perish.”  (Ecclesiasticus 5. 4-7).   In other words, it’s sheer madness to presume to call God’s bluff.

But isn’t  it a huge temptation to try to bargain with God, arguing that if I do this for God He’s obliged to do that for me? He owes me one. I have serious problems with those people who circulate emails that guarantee instant prosperity or certain salvation if we jump through a number of spiritual hoops.  Often these include a handsome donation to the pastor!  To this the Book of Ecclesiasticus replies in no uncertain terms, “Do not try to bribe the Lord.  He will not accept it.”  (35. 14).

 What about God challenging us, even calling our bluff?  He does that all the time!   -as when Jesus says to each of us, “Follow me.”    Instead of promising us an easy ride He guarantees a rough journey.  He tells us to take up our crosses and follow Him.   We, His followers, must expect opposition, even persecution.   Jesus is challenging us to believe in Him, to trust He knows where He’s going, that the eternal life and happiness He promises are not empty words.   To each of us He says, “Launch out into the deep.”  He invites us to do the seemingly impossible, to walk on the water.  Jesus is calling our bluff, as He says, “Trust me.”   We are calling His bluff, as we expect Him to be faithful to His promises.   We meet God as our “yes” to Him echoes His “yes” to us.

Dare I conclude that Annie with her bucket of water has even prompted me to think of my being baptized with the waters of life? Then God most certainly expressed His “yes” to me as His son. How I rejoice in my lifelong commitment to Him as my heavenly Father!

All, the same I warn you  girls, “Don’t take liberties with me and buckets of water! I’ve aged a lot since the days of Annie and camp fires!”

Isidore O.P.

The next posting will be on 21st June

MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS

“I loved your slide show –it reminded me of my holiday in Rome.”   That enthusiastic comment had me baffled, since I’d just given an illustrated talk on my pilgrimage to the Holy Land! As far as I know there wouldn’t have been camels and Bedouin tents in Rome, let alone the sacred shrines of Israel. And I’d shown no pictures of St. Peter’s or the Coliseum. Clearly the person who praised my slideshow can’t have been paying attention or, most likely, had fallen sleep.

The fear of making a fool of ourselves can make us hesitant to comment when questions are invited after a lecture.  As for the speaker he may fear a prolonged silence –a sign that he hadn’t aroused anyone’s curiosity.  No one was interested in his talk.  It takes courage to ask a question –unless you’re one of those people who wants everyone to realize that he knows more about the topic than the speaker!

 I can remember someone like that. He wasn’t simply seeking clarification or information. No!  He made it very obvious that he thought the speaker didn’t really understand his subject.   In exasperation the lecturer retorted, “Who’s giving this lecture, me or you?”  On the other hand there’s the speaker who’s unsure of his ground.  He discourages being exposed as a charlatan with the bluff, “only a fool would contradict me.” No one was prepared to take that risk.

Then there are the malicious questioners. They set innocent-looking traps to catch someone out and discredit him.  Jesus was an expert at spotting and side-stepping them.  He even nudged His interrogators to fall into the pits they had dug for Him.  Then there was the lecturer who said, “I don’t understand the question, but I think I know the answer.”

But usually speakers welcome questions.  They’re a sign that someone’s been paying attention and even shows an interest in what he’s heard.    That’s far more encouraging than a sea of blank, bored faces.  Even a stupid question can be used as a springboard for the speaker to develop an idea. Once someone has had the courage to break the ice others will usually plunge in and join in the questioning.

Seeking answers distinguishes us from the brute beasts. From the moment of birth we are on a journey of discovery, of seeking answers.  We are all born philosophers, wanting to understand. That was very true of Tom, a lively young lad, about five years old. Whenever the house-keeper came to work in one of our presbyteries she brought her grandson with her.  He was into all the cupboards, opening all the draws, looking into everything.  Persistently, repeatedly he would ask, “What’s this? Why? How does it work?

Tom’s curiosity was boundless. His sense of wonder had no limits.  Life was an exciting journey of discovery.  He wanted to find out –to identify things, discover how they worked, know why he should or should not do certain things. The answer to one question would lead to another.  He gave us poor priests and his grandma no peace, no quiet!   It was a great temptation for us to tell him to stop asking so many questions.

But that would have been a great mistake.   The lad’s curiosity arose from wonder at the world in which he lived.  It was good that he wanted to learn more about it.  Such inquisitiveness has provided the springboard for important discoveries and has led to great thinkers striving to penetrate the mysteries of life and death, our origins and final destiny.  If he did but know it, Tom’s questioning made him a budding philosopher, who would certainly have asked what does that meant!

Jesus certainly welcomed people who were honestly searching for the truth and were not afraid to ask questions. They were not ashamed to admit that they did not understand.  In fact, like any good teacher, He welcomed questions.  They showed that He had seized His listener’s interest and aroused his curiosity.  He would use the honest search for truth and understanding as a springboard for Him to develop His teaching.

That’s the approach Jesus took when Thomas and Philip interrupted Him during His Final Discourse, just before His Passion.  That happened when Jesus told the apostles that He was going ahead to prepare a place for them and that they must follow Him.  Thomas, being very practical protested that they didn’t know where He was going, so how could they know how to get there.  That gave Jesus the opening to explain something vital about Himself -that He was the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Then there was Philip.  He said, ‘Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.’  That request provided Jesus with the chance to explain something of the mystery of the intimate life of the Blessed Trinity, as He replied. ‘Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, “Show us the Father”?  ¹⁰Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? (Jn. 14.  9-10).

Near the beginning of John’s Gospel Andrew asked Jesus a simple question, “Where do you live?” and Jesus replied, “Come and see.”    That exchange set Andrew and all of us on journey of discovery, which would take us into the very life of the Blessed Trinity, expressed in Christ’s Farewell Discourse, “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.” (Jn. 15. 10).

Asking questions, seeking answers comes so naturally to all of us.   More than this, our curiosity helps us to deepen our faith.  That’s why St. Anselm wrote about “faith seeking understanding,” and added, “I believe so that I can understand.”

So let’s not be afraid to ask questions.  God has given us inquiring minds and expects us to use them.  As we do so, we should always remember that never will we fully understand and exhaust the mystery of God. But it’s far better to return frequently to the fountain of Truth which can more than satisfy our needs than to drain it in one go, and still remain thirsty.

Isidore O.P.

The next posting will be on 14^th June

WHAT A REVELATION!

You need to pick a lot of wild blackberries to make up a pound in weight! Also you get  badly scratched.   But that didn’t bother us young lads.  We enjoyed roaming the fields.  And what’s more a market gardener paid us 1/2d a pound –for us a lot of money in those days! We also collected and sold him rosehips, which would be turned into syrup, issued to us kids to give us a boost of vitamin C.  We called this, ‘government juice.’

In addition to earning a bit of pocket money, we lads were also doing our bit for the war effort.  Apart from growing our own vegetables, our greatest enterprise was to pile into the back of a lorry.   We, with a number of other kids, would be driven a few miles to a market garden. As we jumped down to the ground we were directed to a number of fields or greenhouses.  These grew tomatoes.   Our task was to ‘eye and tie’ the plants.  The eying involved pinching out the suckers between the stem and leaves.  These were unproductive growth, which sapped the strength from the plant and produced no tomatoes.  By the end of the day our hands were covered with sap from these suckers -a thick, dark green, pungent grime –hard to remove.

Rain did stop our work. We were simply moved to the tomatoes in the large greenhouses.   There it was hot and humid –the ideal home for an unwanted guest.  While Peter was tying a plant to a stake he suddenly screamed and leapt back.  Why the commotion? What was wrong? Certainly we were regularly stung by nettles, but that’s nothing to shout or scream about. That went with the job. Soon we discovered what had alarmed Peter.  He had disturbed a beautiful resting snake, with a golden ‘V’ on the back of its head –a viper!  That’s the only poisonous snake in the UK.  Angrily it hissed, as it warned my brother to back off. Peter needed no second telling!  Fortunately an adult came and rescued him.

For us those were idyllic days when we enjoyed rural life and were too young to appreciate the horrors of war. And we were earning money! This we invested in our post office savings accounts. Since we were taught to be frugal these gradually mounted up until some dozen years later Peter and I headed for the Dominican noviciate.  Before leaving we cashed in our savings and bought a case each, to hold the clothes we would need.

These were no ordinary cases.  True, they were only made of cardboard. But, with expanding hinges and lock, they could be enlarged to almost double their original capacity.  They were known as, ‘Revelation Cases.’  And it was, indeed, a revelation how much they could hold.  Apart from a couple of tea chests for our books, our two cases were sufficient for all Peter and I needed to take, when we sailed off for our mission in the W. Indies.  That was in 1958.

Now, in 2013, I still have my old case.  Though a bit battered it’s still serviceable –like its ancient owner.

As I reflect on my old case it’s quite a revelation! I’m delighted that it resulted from picking blackberries, and tending tomato plants, more than sixty years earlier.  My case has become very much a part of my history, and I’m part of its history.

This helps me to realize that none of us can see how the small things we do can form part of a much bigger picture in God’s plan for us.  They are like the individual pieces of an enormous jigsaw puzzle.  Only when that’s completed will we see the whole picture.  Only then will we appreciate how each piece fits in with all the others.   And what a revelation that will be!  I’m looking forward to that.

Isidore O.P.  

The next posting will be 24th May.