PURSUING OXYMORONS

What a jolly pastime – pursuing oxymorons - sounds rather like chasing goofy cattle – doesn’t it!?!  There’s something rather gratifying in being able to pin-point what is absurd and who is absurd. All the better if this is flavoured with a with a dash of mockery  and scoffery (a word of my own invention).

Oxymoron – the coupling of contradictions, such as  ‘awfully good’ and  ‘terribly nice.’   I ask myself, ‘More awful than good?’ and ‘More terrible than nice?’ Or vice versa?  Of course, such oxymorons will not stand up to close scrutiny. They’re really rather vapid, stating no more than that something or someone is exceedingly good or nice.
A very different matter is when the kernel of our Christian Faith is expressed by way of  an oxymoron. What are we to make of these two daringly outrageous oxymorons chanted triumphantly at the high-point of the Church’s liturgy – the Easter Vigil?

‘O truly necessary sin of Adam, destroyed completely by the Death of Christ!

O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!’

              ‘Necessary sin!                     Happy fault!’  

Only one who is divinely inspired would allow for a sin to be necessary or a fault to be a source of joy.  And this is precisely what the Church is doing during Holy Week; what the Church believes has to be done.  And this is what Jesus has done in and through the Paschal Mystery of his death and resurrection. He has turned the occasion of man’s defection – the Fall – into the source of redeeming, merciful love gushing from the heart of our Crucified Lord.

The sentiments of that much-loved hymn, ‘the Old Rugged Cross,’ boggle the mind, add to the confusion:

‘In the old rugged Cross, stain'd with blood so divine a wondrous beauty I see’.. and ‘So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross.’ The Cross..A wondrous beauty! .The cherished cross!’

In truth and in fact, the cross to which Jesus was nailed was a hideous instrument of torture so cruel that after hours of agony the one impaled on it eventually died.

No beauty here, no power here, and surely no wisdom. St. Paul recognized that the Christian faith was seen by some to be a mass of contradictions and absurdities.

I Cor. 1.23 For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, 23* but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, 24 but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25 For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

While some would say, ’God doesn’t make sense,’ Christians would reply, ‘God doesn’t make nonsense’; what God does is make mystery – its meaning being far too profound for us to be able to grasp.
 

On Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, we celebrate within a single liturgy the contradiction, the conflict, the oxymoron, bedded into the very fact that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed One of God, long promised by God, much awaited by the People of God. Acclaimed as a triumphant hero, rejected as a shamed villain.

Firstly, in our Palm Sunday liturgy, we try to catch something of the spirit of his entry into Jerusalem. This was wonderful, exciting, thrilling! And rightly so. Jesus, for this once, was allowing himself to be openly acclaimed with the Messianic title of ‘the King who comes in the name of the Lord.’ In so doing he acknowledged that he was all that God intended him to be; all this crowd made Him out to be. Their hero! They had got it right!

And then, in sharp contrast, in the Passion Narrative of this same liturgy of Palm Sunday we hear that he was treated as a villain, a reject. he was mocked, scourged, vilified, crucified. This was in total contraction of all that the People of God had been led to expect was due to their Messiah.

Such is the supreme oxymoron – the contradiction – literally embodied in Jesus, as pre-determined by his Heavenly Father. … that the Son of God, made man, Jesus, should be both worthy of all praise…as the acclaimed Messiah …sent by God himself, and be adjudged deserving of the ultimate human punishment meted out to criminals, he, Suffering Servant God, the Suffering Servant of mankind …the Redeemer. .

 

To come terms with these extremes of gladness and of sadness is emotionally, spiritually exhausting…the spirituality of Palm Sunday, an oxymoron, that might well tear us asunder.               It must surely have done something like this to Mary, the Mother of Jesus!

 

 

Peter Clarke, O.P.

DIVINE TRASH

 

I was hoping for a piece of driftwood to adorn my church during the Lenten season. Placed at the foot of the altar this would have provided an austere beauty that would have reflected the mood of that most sacred season. We were to focus our spirituality on preparing ourselves for the celebration of the Paschal Mystery of the dying and rising of Jesus Christ, through which he has recaptured for us the sanctified life that has been destroyed, or at least damaged, by sin. Indeed, not one of us has the capacity to undo the spiritual damage our sins have inflicted upon us.

The arid beauty of this  lifeless branch of wood, bleached and hardened by the sun and the salt sea, would have reminded us worshipers of the frail beauty of our  bodies – mortal and yet Temples of the Holy Spirit. This same branch would also have reminded us of our erstwhile fullness of grace that has been distorted and blotched by our sinfulness. The broken limb of a luxuriant tree had reached a dead end!

I was so disappointed not to get my piece of driftwood. Instead, I was provided with a straggling,  good-for-nothing branch– dry, dead –fit for nothing but to be burned on the rubbish heap.   And yet it had some kind of message to give me. We are to see ourselves, anyone, everyone, stretched out before the altar like this branch - wretched in our mortality, wretched in the faded beauty that was once our grace-filled selves. There is absolutely nothing we of ourselves can do about this.

It spoke to me of the ordinariness of life.  Such dead branches are to be found anywhere and everywhere. They’re so common that there’s nothing special, nothing news-worthy, nothing ornamental or decorative about them. Such is life and such are we all!

It is at this point that I recognize and marvel at the crafty scheming of God. The withered branch that spoke to me about the trashiness of life has taken me by surprise and shamed me. This Lent, my negative expectations of this branch before the altar have been shattered. They have turned out to be unfounded.  I had dismissed it as worthless and useless, and now, without any help from me or anyone else, it has begun to sprout minute leaves that are growing and growing day after day. And they’re increasing in number.   It is all of God’s doing.

It's no big thing if I get it wrong about a dried-up branch and discard it as finished  beyond all possibility of being revived. But it verges on the outrageous, even the blasphemous, if I should ever think that any fellow human being could be so spiritually dead to God that not even He could do anything about it.   I must never give up on anyone…no matter how bad that person may be. This branch is telling me that if I give up on someone then I’m giving up on God Himself. He can remove the heart  of  stone and replace it with a heart of flesh.

This branch has given me hope … a vital component of our Christianity. Ours is a God so slow to anger, so ready to forgive.  He can bring people to the point at which they long to be at peace with him. A major theme of Lent is that whatever godliness in us that has been lost through our sins can be restored if only we will come repentant before the Lord in the Sacrament of Reconciliation

 

 

Peter Clarke  O.P.

 

 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

 

He had a delightful, crazy streak, a gentle sense of humour.  So it came as no great surprise when our friend told Peter and me that his degree research meant he had to become a surrogate mother to a flock of ducklings!

This was to test a theory known as ‘animal imprinting.’  This claimed that certain animals -especially ducks and geese -were very impressionable. They would bond with the first thing that caught their eyes, after they broke out from their shells.  Hopefully that would be their mother.  But if not, they would form an inseparable attachment to the most unlikely of substitute mothers.  Ducklings could become the best of friends with a cat or large dog –a creature which normally would make a meal of them. They’ve been known to become deeply attached to an inanimate object, such as a cardboard box or a wellington boot. Incidentally, (I’ve here adapted a cartoon which I found on the internet. Many thanks to the unknown artist!)

So, our friend studiously monitored the duck eggs from the moment they were put in the incubator. His research demanded that he had to be the first thing they saw as they hatched.  He alone provided for their every need.  Would they bond with him?  To his delight, they waddled behind him, as he walked away.  Later, when he rode off on his bike, they took to the air and flew behind him in the traditional ‘V’ formation.  When he dismounted and lay on the grass they landed on top of his back!    They’d become inseparable!

Our friend had obviously made a lasting impression on the newly-hatched ducklings. If he provided them with a substitute mother, they gave him the evidence he needed for his university degree.  I wonder how he felt having such substitute children.

As I reflected on our friend’s crazy research I was reminded of the importance of first impressions –not just for ducklings, but for us people.

There are many, who from the start have been greatly blessed by being brought up in a loving family environment of devout, Christian parents.  Their faith has become imprinted upon them.  During their childhood they were introduced to God, and He has been with them throughout their lives. That’s how countless people first meet God. Thanks to His grace, they’ve stuck with Him, and He with them -despite their lapses.

Sadly, many more children do not grow up in a loving Christian atmosphere.  Many are born into a godless and sometimes unloving world.  With such an early imprint, we may well fear that they didn’t stand a chance of meeting God and of experiencing His love.  But God can overcome that disadvantage.  Unlike the ducklings, they do have free will and, with God’s help, can react against an unfavourable environment.   And God can and does reach out to them in so many different ways. Often that’s through us believers. The impression we make may give them the first insight into what it means to be a follower of Christ. Meeting us can become the first step to their meeting Him.  But do our lives inspire them to want to join us in following Christ?  Or do we put them off Jesus and His way of life, probably without our realizing it?  That’s an enormous responsibility.

I’m struck by the way Jesus created such a wonderful first impression on hard-headed fishermen, such as Peter and Andrew, the tempestuous Sons of Thunder  -James and John. Instinctively they left everything and followed Jesus, even to the point of giving their very lives for Him.  That first impression was ‘imprinting’ on the grand scale –far exceeding the bonding between our friend and the ducklings!

I’m sure that God wants us to meet Him by imprinting upon us an unshakeable trust in the wonder of His love and mercy, His total commitment to us.  He wants this first impression to remain with us throughout  the ups and downs of life.

Like our friend and the ducklings, you and I,  may be the first impression or imprint some people will have of what being a Christian is all about.  Will they be inspired to follow us to Jesus?

Isidore O.P.

 

"DEM BONES, DEM BONES..."

I do enjoy relaxing with a good detective story!  There’s the sense of mystery, trying to pick up the clues and work out who’s the culprit before that’s been revealed by the detective.  Since I’m  a Dominican I find stories set in  the Middle-Ages particularly fascinating. The historical background is usually so well researched; it gives me a feel for how people lived when the Dominican and Franciscan Orders were founded. was  also the period when they established large communities here in Leicester - the very place where I’m living.

So, imagine my joy and excitement when, last year, here in Leicester, I witnessed a real live piece of detection.  Archaeologists were working on a dig in a car park.  Their purpose was to find the body of the notorious King Richard III. He’d been killed at the Battle of Bosworth, a few miles from Leicester. Records showed that he’d been buried between the choir stalls of Leicester’s Medieval Franciscan Friary.

After locating the friary underneath this car-park the archaeologists dug some trenches.  To my delight they had an open day for the public to see how they were progressing.  These trenches revealed bits of the foundation walls of the friary and its church.  As I gazed down these trenches I allowed my imagination to run free, as I speculated about the Franciscans brethren who had lived there over five centuries ago.  Our Medieval Dominican priory was on the other side of the city. My brethren of yesteryear would have known this Franciscan community.

Fascinating though this background was, the  archaeologists were not so much interested in the friary. Their focus was on the mortal remains of the man who was supposed to have been buried there –no less a person than King Richard III, the last English monarch to have been killed on the battlefield.  His death provided a turning point in English history. Finding his remains would be a major discovery.

To everyone’s excitement, between the choir stalls of the friary, they found the bones of someone who had obviously been killed in battle.  Was he the missing king?

Now another set of experts stepped in; the bones were carbon dated; genealogists discovered a descendent of Richard’s sister. A sample of his DNA was used to see whether it matched that of the DNA of the bones found in the Franciscan friary.. If so, the argument would be clinched. The mortal remains of Richard III would have been discovered.

This was far more exciting than any fictional detective story! Eagerly, impatiently, we awaited the results of the scientific research.   Today, 4^th February 2013, it’s been officially announced that the remains of King Richard III have, indeed, been found!

But what has this wonderful find to tell me about meeting God?  Well, the discovery of the bones in the car park reminded me of a passage in the prophecy of Ezekiel.  His exiled people were despondent. They feared that their nation had been destroyed and that God had abandoned them. In a vision the prophet saw a valley full of dry bones, representing God’s people.  Then the Lord said to Ezekiel, “ ‘Mortal man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord,’ (Ezek. 37. 11-14).

The vivid imagery of this prophecy gave hope that God would do the seemingly impossible. He would revive an apparently dead people. This prophecy was taken up in a popular Negro Spiritual about, “Dem bones, Dem dry bones,’ which would hear the word of the Lord; they would walk around.

And as I think of the dry bones of the deceased Richard III I’m confident that our crucified and risen Lord can breathe new life not only into Richard’s bones, but into the mortal remains of all who have died.

To the non-believe there would have been something very final about the discovery of Richard’s dry bones. Clearly, his life had been brutally snuffed out; he had no future. Nor would anyone else, once they’d died. But those very bones reminded me of Ezekiel’s prophecy and the Spiritual they inspired.  God can, and does, do the seemingly impossible. He can raise us bodily from the dead to share in the glorious life of His risen Son.

That archaeological dig has given me a new approach to my faith in the resurrection. After death, I trust the Lord will raise my dry bones. Then I hope to enjoy the fullness of life with the risen Lord.  Surely, that’s the very best way of meeting God!

 

Isidore O.P.

The next posting will be on  22nd February.

 

PRAYER OF THE CHURCH

 

What a happy coincidence!  There I was quietly saying the Breviary –or Prayer of the Church –when I raised my head and looked through the window.  Low and behold what I saw was beautifully described by the passage I was reading, taken

from the Book of Ecclesiasticus.
 

And what did I see?  Snow falling. But the author, Ben Sirach, put it much better than that. He delighted in the wonderful artistry of God’s creative genius.   “He –the Lord - sprinkles snow like birds alighting, it comes down like locusts settling. The eye marvels at the beauty of its whiteness, and the mind is amazed at its falling,” (Ecclesiasticus 43. 17-18). The snow was indeed beautiful and it was fascinating to watch the flakes dance and pirouette in the breeze.  But this same extract from Ecclesiasticus went on to describe what someone using the Prayer of the Church in Australia or the Judean Desert would have experienced, “He –the Lord -swallows up the mountains and scorches the desert, like a fire he consumes the vegetation.  But the mist heals everything in good time, after the heat falls the reviving dew,” (43. 21-22). In wonder the author concludes, “We could say much more and still fall short; to put it concisely, ‘He is all.’ Where shall we find sufficient power to glorify him, since he is the Great One, above all his works,” (43. 27-28).

This passage from the Book of Eccesiasticus powerfully showed me how the Sacred Scriptures reflect not only the different kinds of weather we may experience –always fascinating for an Englishman -but also the diversity of situations we may face, and the different ways we relate to God.  All this is especially true of the psalms, which form a large part of the Prayer of the Church.

I can identify with them in praising and thanking God; in asking for what I need; in seeking His forgiveness.  In pain and distress I cry to Him for assistance.  As I seek His assistance I draw upon the infinite power of God’s love and mercy.  When I’ve identified with the Psalms of Lamentation –what someone graphically describes as ‘howling before the Lord’ –they’ve given me hope amidst my distress and despair. That was a very real healing!  The lamentations in the Bible have taught me not to be afraid to be absolutely honest with God, not to be afraid to speak my mind, even when my thoughts are ugly about life, about certain people who 'stress me out,' and even about God Himself.  His love for me has the resilience of a loyal friend; God’s most certainly is not brittle or fickle!

After using the Prayer of the Church for over sixty years I’ve been struck that its very title. This suggests unselfishness. Certainly I try to make these prayers my own, but as Prayers of the Church they reach beyond me, beyond the Church itself to embrace the whole world. Though separated, we pray with each other and for each other. While my brother, Peter, is praying in the tropical heat, I’m saying the breviary in frozen winter.  Together we bring before the Lord the differing moods, needs and aspirations of members of the community.

Certainly there will be times when my feelings may be very different from that of the particular psalm I’m praying.  No matter. Someone in the community will be feeling the desperation or joy expressed by a particular psalm. For my brother or sister’s sake I put my own feelings aside and am content to bring theirs before God. It’s very good for me to be taken outside my own world! If the psalms express someone’s anger and vengeance they expose these unworthy sentiments to the healing balm of God’s love and compassion.  On such occasions the Prayer of the Church calls me to put aside my own personal needs and feelings and to pray those of other people.

My way of meeting God is through the Prayer of the Church, which expresses the life of God’s People and its relationship to the Lord. I’m reminded that I’m not ‘alone with God, journeying on my way,’ but a member of the Pilgrim Church, in which we support each other with our prayers. The Prayer of the Church reinforces our solidarity with God and with each other.

Even if you don’t use the Breviary you will certainly find that praying the psalms will help you to draw closer to God in the joys and sorrows of life. These prayers will take you outside yourself and lead you to bring others before God.  And that’s not surprising since God, who is the author of the Scriptures speaks to our minds and hearts, through the psalms, and we make these prayers our own as we listen to Him and speak to Him.

 



Isidore O.P 

The next post will be on 8th  February

  

 

CONSOLATION PRIZE

                               

 

Tiger came to me as a utility cat- as a much needed rat-catcher for the old building in which I was housed. . .infested with vermin. This cat was eminently up to the task… a creature that bristled and hissed at every friendly approach...every attempt at intimacy.  If Tiger had no need for affection he looked for approval or at least recognition. Trophies from the hunt were always brought to my door.
 

Mine was the task of paying Tiger his wages, keeping him alive with a mid-day plate of food washed down by a saucer of milk.   At meal-time Tiger was too pre-occupied with eating to show aggression when I lightly stroked his back. Gradually there was a transition from hostility to tolerance and then to contented purring. What a break-through  when Tiger actually jumped onto my lap.

I should have known better than to imagine we had eventually become firm friends and that the future would always be sweet and smooth between us. For many years when preparing couples for marriage I have cautioned them that at times their relationship would have moments that were rough and sour. Often they looked at me in disbelief. What did I as a priest know about being in love? “More than somewhat,” would be a fair reply. A fool was I to expect more from Tiger than I did of human beings.

    The moment of disillusionment had to come, sooner or later. On a day like any other day when I was carrying Tiger’s lunch across the lawn I heard a demented shriek followed  immediately by sharp claws plunged into my rump!  Swiftly I spun round and lashed out with my foot – like a celebrity footballer aiming at goal. I missed.  No amount of pondering or taking counsel from my friends provided me an explanation for this treacherous outburst.  More disturbing to me was the fact that there were several repeat performances.

 Thenceforth ours was an uneasy relationship. However, sometime later I was seriously ill and had to take major surgery. After several days I returned home to my bed which was snugly in a corner of the room in the space between the wall and a tall bookcase.  Restless, unable to sleep, I heard a rustling and then a gentle thump. Raising my eyes I saw Tiger sharply silhouetted against the moon- light that flooded my room. Seldom have I felt more loved, more comforted, that when Tiger nestled beside sickly me who had been exhausted and wrung out by intense pain.

Tiger had needed me; I had needed Tiger. ..more than either of us had realized.

How much we meant to each other was brought home to me once again…after the devastation and desolation caused to our house by Hurricane Ivan in 2004.  There were three of us in residence at the time of the storm. After several days with no trace of Tiger we had concluded, ‘Missing in action.’

Meanwhile , we had to sort out our lives in the midst of all the rubble and confusion. We  were able to clear some space and to salvage all that was needed for the celebration of Mass. As I sat in the corridor waiting for the others to show up for Mass I was lost in thought, deep in prayer, with eyes closed...lost to the world. I became aware of Tiger gently, hesitantly, brushing against my bare shin.  Softly I called his name. ‘Tiger.’ Confidently he jumped into my lap.

Even as I write this my eyes are moist. I thank God for those exquisite moments of beauty and love that have come to my rescue when I have been torn apart with sadness, even despair.  God knows how to meet our needs, in ways we never expected. He has seen to it that people, even Tiger-cat,  have been  ‘there for me’ when I needed them most.
 

Have no illusions. The world is made up of imperfect people like you and me...of imperfect cats, like Tiger!   This being so, to my mind it is a great God who through His flawed creatures can bring me to that point where my whole being throbs with the words of St. Paul,   

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.” ~2 Corinthians 1:3-4

What a strange spirituality is here!  godswaymyway! I’m to find God calling me to be for others what Tiger has been for me!  A comfort ! A consolation!

Peter Clarke OP 

THROUGH A CROWD OF CRIBS

 

What a wonderful, what an exciting, Christmas it has been for me – a preacher! Having proclaimed the Christian message for over fifty years, I could be excused, you might think, if I wearily complained that I’m running out of ideas. …that the theme has become stale to me.

 

Not a bit of it! God has inspired me to scour  the Internet  in the quest to discover how  people of different races and cultures celebrate the birth of Jesus through their cribs. This has been a revelation to me.  I’m not now thinking of the cribs mass- produced in some factory and distributed throughout the world. I have been fascinated by the hand-made cribs intended for the family or for the local church community.

It has been brought home me that when the Son of God became man He made His home with the peoples of the world, where each one of them was and He became one of them - just as they were.

 I came across Jesus lying in a crib, Joseph and Mary wearing thick hide hats, garments, and gloves - all with fur trimmings. In the background was an igloo ‘ice-box.’  In attendance were not an ox and an ass but polar bears and seals – in real life not the closest of friends!

In another corner of the globe Jesus is welcomed into the world by Joseph and Mary, wearing Peruvian clothes and with the features of the local people. With them are elegant llamas gazing with serene reverence at the child in the crib.

 Since I’ve spent all my priestly life in the Caribbean I was much attracted to Jesus being sheltered under palm-branch roofing, supported by bamboo poles.

I simply love the carvings of the crib figures – in stone, wood of the olive tree of the Holy Land, or some other wood; beautiful carvings in soap, ice or the ivory of elephant  tusks.  I came across rag-doll figures and a superb sea-shore Nativity tableau fashioned in sand.

 Whether the Nativity has been depicted in ceramics or paintings, the figures in the cribs represented the peoples, the cultures of the world -  Chinese, Indian, African, Aboriginal, European, and so on. Particular cultures and life-styles were reflected in the cut and brilliant colours of the garments – as well as by brief grass  skirts and even total nakedness.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph were totally identified with the particular culture of these people who made and cherished their own vision of the Incarnation.  The Son of God had become man in their world. And they had welcomed Him as one of their own.

 For me reflecting on this, praying about this was profoundly moving. It came home to me vividly that the Son of God, in taking flesh, belongs to every individual human being, and that, through this galaxy of cribs is shown to be a member of each and every nation, tribe and culture. Each one can of Jesus, ‘My Lord, my God, my Brother!’  All together we can say ‘Our Lord, our God, our Brother!’

And Jesus can say to each one of us, ‘My brother or My sister.’  To the global family of mankind Jesus with pride and joy can exclaim ‘My Family!’ 

Each of us, as individuals with our own brand of humanity with its language or dialect, is celebrating Christmas with this single, shared, theme: ‘Unto Me, unto you, unto us together…a child is born…who is Lord and Saviour of us all.’  As all of us acclaim Jesus as our brother WE ARE OF MARVELOUS NECESSITY THROUGH JESUS SIBLINGS TO ONE ANOTHER.

All these cribs, each in its own way, and all of them together, are telling me that the Son of God was born into and raised within a family such as is recognized throughout the Christian world and is accepted by other religions and people of no religion.

These cribs are together making a statement that the family of man and woman bonded together by the exchange of promises made in public is what we mean by marriage. It is within their loving togetherness children are born and raised.  This is what the  Church considers to be the bedrock of society: the Family based on a man, a woman and their children.

Mywaygodsway for me this Christmas is that through this multitude of cribs God has been telling me that there is a message that needs to be spoken loud and clear:  this is how God intends families to be. The Holy Family of Jesus, Joseph and Mary is telling me: love the family, love the community in which we live, love the families, the people of the world. 

Peter Clarke OP           

Peter and Isidore wish you and your family every blessing for the New Year