Mercy & Pity

"O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity." (from the Collect for Proper 19, Year C)

Br. Bede Thomas Mudge, OHC, has a fascinating and moving post on his blog, where he discusses the effect suddenly hearing this amazing sentence full on had on him. He says,

"Good God" I thought: "I never think of power in terms of mercy and pity. I think of power in terms of getting what I want. I think of power as the ability to Get Things Done. I think of power as the ability to run straight over any opposition. I think of power in lots of ways. But I never think of power as being merciful and showing pity."

What made this such a stunning moment, I think, was my body. I wasn't just thinking this dilemma, I was feeling it, and I was feeling it in my body. For some reason, when the officiant of that office sang the words "your almighty power" I really felt that power - or at least what my senses think of as power. And I was wrapped up in feeling my version of God's power when the words "mercy and pity" came along, and they completely toppled me off my (intellectual) horse. Because power - the power I think about with my mind and feel with my body, has to do with a lot of things, but not with mercy. Not with pity.

But God's power has everything to do with mercy and pity. That's what the collect says. And if that is true, I have a lot of work to do.

Do go and read the whole thing... a profound, and profoundly honest, bit of writing. But I will make one little connection here that Br. Bede Thomas doesn't make - it isn't really part of what he's working towards - that suddenly struck me as I read his words. I have often written here and on The Mercy Site about the power that there is in the simple little Jesus Prayer, and how it flows out into intercession, ultimately into intercession for the whole of Creation (Romans 8.19-27) The power of the Jesus Prayer, apart from its Trinitarian* nature, lies in the word "mercy." "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

In the Prayer I ask for mercy. I know that, as I ask it from, and in the name of, Jesus, I receive it in the very act of asking. This is a sacramental act, with implications far beyond the little pocket of time and place where it is being prayed. But it's not just me that receives it. What affects me affects Creation. The mercy that is poured out on me overflows to all Creation. In some extraordinary way that I can take no credit for, the Creation is being loved through me. That is surely the power Br. Bede Thomas is writing about.

* The Jesus Prayer is one which is slowly repeated. It is not a mantra, but a definite invocation to the Son of God. Being explicitly addressed to the Second Person of the Trinity, the First Person is implicitly included. Moreover, St Paul writes that no-one can call Jesus ‘Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit (1 Cor: 1-23). Thus the Jesus Prayer is Trinitarian. (Br. Brian SSF New Zealand)

The Mandaeans

Please continue to pray for the ancient Mandaean people of Iraq. It is reported in the New York Times that perhaps a small gateway of hope has opened for them - read more here.

Monks lead London's Burma protest (BBC News)

Please do continue to pray, and to do whatever good your hand finds to do. (You could start by signing the petition on this blog!) Check if there are any protests going on in your own city, if there are any Burmese expatriates you could help give support and comfort to.

The BBC coverage of the tragic events in Burma seems to me as good as any. They seem to have good access to whatever news is escaping the junta's attempted blackout, and are usually relatively unbiased in their reporting.

Trusting God

I always trip up here.

Somehow though it's so hard to avoid becoming anxious, however much I may know (and I do know) that I can trust him whatever happens, however apparently hard the circumstances. I know so well that I can trust God implicitly, that all his ways are good and true, and that truly "in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose..." (Romans 8.28 NIV) and yet to let that actually become real in my life and in my reactions is not easy!

"But to one who without works trusts him who justifies the ungodly, [his] faith is reckoned as righteousness..." (Romans 4.5)

Prayer is the only answer - for me, the only way to know God's mercy is real, and that it really does apply to me, that I'm not for some unfathomable reason outside that mercy, unlike the rest of Creation!

St Ignaty Brianchaninov has a wonderful essay on practising the Jesus Prayer, in which he says:

St. Isaac the Syrian put it marvellously: "When you turn to God in prayer,
be in your thoughts as an ant, as a serpent of the earth, like a worm, like a
stuttering child. Do not speak to Him something philosophical or high-sounding,
but approach Him with a child's attitude" (Homily 49). Those who have acquired
genuine prayer experience an ineffable poverty of the spirit when they stand
before the Lord, glorify and praise Him, confess to Him, or present to Him their
entreaties. They feel as if they had turned to nothing, as if they did not
exist. That is natural. For when he who is in prayer experiences the fullness of
the divine presence, of Life Itself, of Life abundant and unfathomable, then his
own life strikes him as a tiny drop in comparison to the boundless ocean. That
is what the righteous and long-suffering Job felt as he attained the height of
spiritual perfection. He felt himself to be dust and ashes; he felt that he was
melting and vanishing as does snow when struck by the sun's burning rays (Job
42:6).

That is the answer, always. Finally in that obscurity of heart is healing, "for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God." (Colossians 3.3)

Dives in Misericordia (for the feast of St Faustina)

Thanks again to Saint of the Day for this quote from Pope John Paul II's visit, four years after St Faustina's beatification, to the Sanctuary of Divine Mercy at Lagiewniki (near Krakow in Poland) where he addressed members of her congregation. He said:

The message of divine mercy has always been very close and precious to me. It is as though history has written it in the tragic experience of World War II. In those difficult years, this message was a particular support and an inexhaustible source of hope, not only for those living in Krakow, but for the entire nation. This was also my personal experience, which I carried with me to the See of Peter and which, in a certain sense, forms the image of this pontificate. I thank divine providence because I was able to contribute personally to carrying out Christ's will, by instituting the feast of Divine Mercy. Here, close to the remains of Blessed Faustina, I thank God for the gift of her beatification. I pray unceasingly that God may have 'mercy on us and on the whole world.'

It's fascinating to compare this with the teaching on the Jesus Prayer, where, over time, the prayer "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner" comes to "pray itself" in the heart of the believer: precisely the Pope's prayer. Truly, mercy is at the centre of all we do as Christians, or we are just hollow shells.

The Lord is merciful and gracious,
   slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
He will not always accuse,
   nor will he keep his anger for ever.
He does not deal with us according to our sins,
   nor repay us according to our iniquities.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
   so great is his steadfast love towards those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
   so far he removes our transgressions from us.
As a father has compassion for his children,
   so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him.
For he knows how we were made;
   he remembers that we are dust.

(Psalm 103.8-14)

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy...

(Jesus, from the Beatitudes, in Matthew 5)

More wonderful reading for the Feast of St Francis...

From The Canticle of Chiara:

It was certainly rash, and even foolish, for a man like Francis to suddenly
forsake the plans that had been in store for him since his youth… he was raised
to eventually become a merchant, like his father. When he finally decided to
give his life to God, his future was very unclear. Where would he live? Where
would Francis get his clothing and food from? What would he "do" for a living?
These are questions that plague many young people. In a time when there is so
much pressure put on teens and young adults to define rather nebulous futures,
many young people- myself included- spend a large amount of time worrying. In
high school, we worry whether we’ll be able to get into a choice college, be
able to pay for college, and also worry about our choice of college. After those
problems are resolved and we have made it into college, we worry about new
issues. What subject will we major in? Will we be able to pass a particular
class? Will we be able to find gainful summer employment? As graduation draws
near, a whole new set of questions arise. Will we find jobs? Will we get into
grad school? The biggest question of all, "What do we want to do with our
lives?"

About a month ago, I had a conversation with a young women from one of my
church groups. She noted how important it is to place such worries and questions
God’s hands, trusting that He will lead us in the right direction. She said
something like, "a year from now, you'll be looking back and wondering why you
were so worried about your future when God eventually worked everything out for
you."

Francis is the embodiment of this simple trust in God’s love and
providence. At first glance, it seems foolish to place one’s livelihood in God’s
hands… but Francis understood that when we spend less time worrying about
ourselves and trust in God’s providence, we're able to spend more time loving
and living for God and our neighbors. I pray that eventually - through St.
Francis’ intercession - I will be able to embrace such a faith-filled mentality!

Almost certainly today's two best posts on St Francis...

Go and read - Padre Mickey's done it again!

Feast of St Francis of Assisi

A Poem about St Francis of Assisi - Longfellow

St Francis & Creation

I just found an excellent article on St Francis over at the St Anthony Messenger site, dealing with the disconnect between some of the popular, birdbath ornament views of Francis, and some of the very serious-minded, scholarly attitudes that are horrified by that. Fr Jack Wintz OFM says:

PERHAPS THE MOST popular sculptured image of Francis of Assisi is that of the bearded little man standing on a birdbath. This figure is so universal that you can find it as readily in an Episcopalian’s backyard or a Buddhist prayer garden as at a Franciscan retreat center.

To those who complain, "This birdbath art is too lowbrow and sentimental!" I say, "Relax, it’s not always inferior art. Besides, Francis belongs to the popular arts (e.g., key chains, fridge magnets and the like), as well as to the fine arts."

To set Francis on a birdbath or in a flower garden or to depict him with birds circling his head is simply a popular way of saying, "This man had a special link with all God’s creatures, and it’s just like him to be standing there humbly among them."

Francis was in awe of the swallow, the cricket and the wolf. "Where the modern cynic sees something buglike in everything that exists," observed the German writer-philosopher Max Scheler, "St. Francis saw even in a bug the sacredness of life."

Another reason Francis should remain on the birdbath or in the garden is that his being there helps us recognize, as Francis himself did, that the world of God and the world of nature are one. Francis did not build an artificial wall between the natural world and the supernatural, the secular and the sacred...

St. Francis of Assisi addressed creatures as "sisters" and "brothers," that is, as equals, not as subjects to be dominated. And that is why the humble figure of St. Francis standing on the birdbath or among the shrubs is so right for our day. He truly saw himself as a simple servant and caretaker of creation - little brother to the birds and the fish and the lowly ivy.

Sometimes we can be too highbrow for our own good, and we miss the grace God has for us. We should continually, like Jesus, praise God that he has "hidden these [spiritual] things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children." (Luke 10.21 NIV)

Free Burma!

Just click on the graphic to see how you can help...

And keep praying - read this BBC account to see why we must do all we can to help!

Oh dear, this is just what Jan was afraid of...

 

Hat tip to SFO Mom via A Minor Friar.

Read and pray, please

http://www.punkmonksf.com/blog/2007/10/massacre_in_burma.html

More belated angels...

I found this too, which I must have read years ago, but had forgotten. Read this and tell me the hairs on your neck don't stand on end. I dare you... Comes from the ANG*L site:

We can become aware that our life is "marvelously guided by good powers," as Dietrich Bonhoeffer experienced in a Nazi prison. Christian tradition speaks of these guiding powers as Guardian Angels and celebrates them on this special feast.

The first two stanzas of Rainer Maria Rilke's Second Duino Elegy counteract the saccharine sweet images which we all too often see of Guardian Angels.

Every angel is terrible.
Knowing this, I invoke thee,
O Deadly Birds of the Soul.
Gone are the days of Tobias,
when shining Raphael,
awful majesty disguised,
stood at a door, twin
to the youth who gazed
out, curious, upon him.
Should such an archangel
now descend a single step
from behind the stars,
our hearts would rise and
rage until they burst!
Who art thou?

Primordial Perfection!
First darlings of Creation:
mountain summits crimson
in the dawn of genesis -
pollen of Godhead in
resplendent blossom,
essence of light...
halls, stairs, thrones,
places of pure being,
shields shaped of ecstasy,
swirling storms of rapture -
all suddenly ceasing...
mirrors!...commanding all
the scattered sweetness
into themselves again.

(translated by Robert Hunter)

St Bernard on Angels

Late as usual, I still couldn't resist posting this lovely passage I found on the CCF Calendar of Saints:

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux on The Holy Guardian Angels:

"He hath given his angels charge over thee." O wonderful bounty and truly great love of charity! Who? For whom? Wherefore? What has He commanded? Let us study closely, brethren, and let us diligently commit to our memory this great mandate. Who is it that commands? Whose angels are they? Whose mandates do they fulfill? Whose will do they obey? In answer, "He hath given his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." And they do not hesitate even to life thee up in their hands.

So the Supreme Majesty has given charge to the angels. Yes, He has given charge to His own angels. Think of it! To those sublime beings, who cling to Him so joyfully and intimately, to His very own He has given charge over you! Who are you? "What is man that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man that thou visitest him?" As if man were not rottenness, and the son of man a worm! Now why, do you think, he Has given them charge over thee? -- To guard thee!

With what great reverence should you treat this word! What devotion should you proffer it; what great confidence should you place in it. Reverence because of their presence; devotion because of their benevolence; confidence because of their solicitude. Walk carefully, in all thy ways, as one with whom the angels are present as He has given them charge. In every lodging, at every corner, have reverence for thy Angel. Do not dare to do in his presence what you would not dare to do if I were there. Or do you doubt that he is present whom you do not behold? What if you should hear him? What if you should touch him? What if you should scent him? Remember that the presence of something is not proved only by the sight of things.

In this, therefore, brethren, let us affectionately love His angels as one day our future coheirs; meanwhile, however, as counselors and defenders appointed by the Father and placed over us. Why should we fear under such guardians? Those who keep us in all our ways can neither be overcome nor be deceived, much less deceive. They are faithful; they are prudent; they are powerful; why do we tremble? Let us only follow them, let us remain close to them, and in the protection of the God of heaven let us abide. As often, therefore, as a most serious temptation is perceived to weigh upon you and an excessive trial is threatening, call to your guard, your leader, your helper in your needs, in your tribulation; cry to him and say: "Lord, save us; we perish!"

The Descent of the Dove (with apologies to Charles Williams)

Wonderful quote from Lancelot Andrewes, posted by Vicki K Black. I really should read more Lancelot Andrewes: he always blows my socks off when I do -

The Holy Ghost is a Dove, and he makes Christ’s Spouse, the church, a Dove, a term so oft iterate in the Canticles, and so much stood on by Saint Augustine and the Fathers, as they make no question. No Dove, no church.

And what shall we say then to them that will be Christians, and yet have nothing in them of the church, nothing in them of the dove; what shall we say? You may see what they are, they even seek and do all that in them lies to chase away this Dove, the Holy Ghost. The Dove, they tell us, that was for the baby-Church, for them to be humble and meek, suffer and mourn like a dove. Now, as if with Montanus they had yet “another Holy Ghost” to look for, in another shape, of another fashion quite, with other qualities, they hold these be no qualities for Christians now. Were indeed, they grant, for the baby-Christians, for the “three thousand” first Christians, this day; poor men, they did all in simplicitate cordis. And so too in Pliny’s time: harmless people they were; the Christians, as he writes, did nobody hurt. And so to Tertullian’s, who tells plainly what hurt they could have done, and yet would do none. And so all along the primitive churches, even down to Gregory, who in any wise would have no hand in any man’s blood. But the date of these meek and patient Christians is worn out, long since expired; and now we must have Christians of a new edition, of another, a new-fashioned Holy Ghost’s making.

For do they not begin to tell us in good earnest that they are simple men that think Christians were to continue so still; they were to be so but for a time, till their beaks and talons were grown, till their strength was come to them, and then this dove here might take her wings, fly whither she would; then a new Holy Ghost to come down upon them that would not take it as the other did, but take arms, depose, deprive, blow up; instead of an olive branch, have a match-light in her beak or a bloody knife.

Methinks, if this world go on, it will grow a question problematic, in what shape it was most convenient for the Holy Ghost to have come down? Whether as he did, in the meek shape of a dove? or whether, it had not been much better he had come in some other shape, in the shape of the Roman eagle, or of some other fierce fowl de vulturino genere?

But lying men may change—may, and do; but the Holy Ghost is unus idemque Spiritus, saith the Apostle, changes not, casts not his bill, moults not his feathers. His qualities at the first do last still, and still shall last to the end, and no other notes of a true Christian, but they.

From “Sermon VIII of the Sending of the Holy Ghost” by Lancelot Andrewes, quoted in Love’s Redeeming Work: The Anglican Quest for Holiness, compiled by Geoffrey Rowell, Kenneth Stevenson, and Rowan Williams (Oxford, 2001).

Merton on the purpose of it all...

 

The doctrine of man finding his true reality in his remembrance of God in whose image he was created, is basically Biblical and was developed by the Church Fathers in connection with the theology of grace, the sacraments, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. In fact, the surrender of our own will, the "death" of our selfish ego, in order to live in pure love and liberty of spirit, is effected not by our own will (this would be a contradiction in terms!) but by the Holy Spirit. To "recover the divine likeness," to "surrender to the will of God," to "live by pure love," and thus to find peace, is summed up as "union with God in the Spirit," or "receiving, possessing the Holy Spirit." This, as the 19th-century Russian hermit, St. Seraphim of Sarov declared, is the whole purpose of the Christian (therefore a fortiori the monastic) life. St. John Chrysostom says: "As polished silver illumined by the rays of the sun radiates light not only from its own nature but also from the radiance of the sun, so a soul purified by the Divine Spirit becomes more brilliant than silver; it both receives the ray of Divine Glory and from itself reflects the ray of this same glory." Our true rest, love, purity, vision and quies is not something in ourselves, it is God the Divine Spirit. Thus we do not "possess" rest, but go out of ourselves into him who is our true rest...

In the surrender of himself and of his own will, his "death" to his worldly identity, the monk is renewed in the image and likeness of God, and become like a mirror filled with the divine light.

Thomas Merton. "The Spiritual Father in the Desert Tradition" in Contemplation in A World of Action. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co., 1971: p. 287.

Obscure Sacrifice

"I prefer the monotony of obscure sacrifice to all ecstasies. To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul." St. Thérèse of Lisieux.

It's an odd thing. When I was younger I used to long for - if not for fame exactly, then certainly for people to know my name. I'm coming to realise that in this business of following the Lord that's more of a disadvantage than otherwise. I'm not entirely sure why that should be, really, but certainly I'm coming to realise that there's a real hunger growing in me for obscurity. (Ironic, perhaps, that I'm posting this on a weblog, but there you go...)

I said in an earlier post that:

There is something so wholesome about obscurity in God - one of my favourite Scripture passages is Colossians 3.3, "...for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God."

...We should really never long to do great things for Christ - we should long only to obey him, to do only those things our hand finds to do. The results may be unheard, almost unremembered... or they may change the world... [but] that is not up to us....

Obscurity is... nourishing, like good brown bread. When we live in obscurity, we live in wholeness, and our hearts are free to love.

Increasingly I come to understand why some of the old solitaries like St Cuthbert were so reluctant to accept high office - in Cuthbert's case, to take up the duties of a Bishop. I don't think it was just that they were unwilling to leave their hermitages or their deserts and move into the city. I think they must have known- instinctively or intellectually - that there is a secret life we have with God that we somehow risk by too close a connection with the world of synods, newspapers, public debate.

Pray for our leaders, for ++Rowan Williams, ++Katharine Schori, Pope Benedict XVI, Pastor Berten Waggoner, ++Mark Hanson... you fill in the gaps. My heart goes out to these people. Not in a million years would I want to stand in their shoes.

The Wideness of God's Mercy

Barbara Crafton, at The Geranium Farm has a brilliant Almost Daily eMo for today. She says, talking about the present FUD that is troubling parts of the Anglican Communion:

The Church is the Body of Christ, we affirm, but it is the body of Christ among human beings. As fish swim in water, human beings live in history. For as long as we draw breath, we do not escape it. And history is always a journey. History travels from one place to another. Its beginnings are not its endings. Although the domain of God is timeless, life on the earth is not: it only moves forward. Whatever else the Church may be, it is not a way out of the pilgrimage of human history.

We may long for a way out, but we will not find one. You and I will move aside, will yield our places to those who wait to take theirs. Over time, we have seen that the company of those who claim a place at the table of the Lord has widened. Over time, we have seen that some of what was once unthinkable has become normal, and some of what was once normal has become unthinkable, and that the direction of these changes has been toward the wideness of God's mercy. Only rarely has this happened easily. Our assumptions, too, will yield - indeed, they are yielding at this very moment.

So we must go slowly in asserting the timelessness of our own customs, however dear they may be to us. Judging from what we have noticed about the widening movement in history, we must question ourselves with especial rigor whenever we cherish and defend any system that enshrines us at its summit. In the name of moral honesty, I must always suspect myself: perhaps it is not really morality I defend. It may only be turf.

Might marriage change its meaning? Might it move, a bit, from one place in the landscape to another? Most assuredly, it will, as it has many times before. Might the complexion of ordained ministry change as well? Certainly it will. It already has, many times. And are these things steps on a downward spiral that can only end in chaos and the death of faith, as some are absolutely certain they are?

Not at all. Fear not: faith does not die unless we choose to stop trusting in the love of God and serving the children of God. That airlessness alone kills it, and even then it only lies dormant, ready to spring to life again, given half a chance, a little sunlight, and half a cup of water.

Thank you, Barbara! That last paragraph is just what I've been trying to find the words to say, many times, to people who raise these concerns. The Church is God's church - he gathered it together, and he's certainly not going to let a few arguments between Bishops derail his purpose for it, no matter what the enemy might intend. We need to remember Romans 8.28 (for the nth time): "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose."

The whole family of Creation

Friar Jack Wintz OFM has a wonderful article, St Francis and the Birds, in which he recounts St Bonaventure's story of Francis'

...deep personal dilemma: Should he retire from the world and devote himself entirely to prayer or should he continue traveling about as a preacher of the gospel? To answer this question, St. Francis sends brothers to seek the advice of two of his most trusted colleagues: Brother Sylvester and the holy virgin Clare and her sisters.

The word comes back very quickly from both Sylvester and Clare that it is their clear judgment that God wants Francis to keep proclaiming the good news of God’s saving love. No sooner does Francis hear their response than he immediately stands up, and in the words of St. Bonaventure, "without the slightest delay he takes to the roads, to carry out the divine command with great fervor..."

The typical reader at this juncture, I believe, would expect St. Bonaventure to portray St. Francis as rushing off to the nearest village or marketplace to begin preaching the gospel to the people gathered there. But where does Francis actually go? Francis’ very next stop, according to Bonaventure, is this:

"He came to a spot where a large flock of birds of various kinds had come together. When God’s saint saw them, he quickly ran to the spot and greeted them as if they were endowed with reason….

"He went right up to them and solicitously urged them to listen to the word of God, saying, ‘Oh birds, my brothers and sisters, you have a great obligation to praise your Creator, who clothed you in feathers and gave you wings to fly with, provided you with pure air and cares for you without any worry on your part.’…The birds showed their joy in a remarkable fashion: They began to stretch their necks, extend their wings, open their beaks and gaze at him attentively..."

Bonaventure’s story of Francis preaching to birds was a minor shock to me and perhaps to you also. Had Francis not just learned from his special advisors Brother Sylvester and Lady Clare that God wanted him to continue his preaching ministry? And should we not assume that the primary audience of his preaching should be other human beings—and not bunches of birds? I believe that Bonaventure is trying to shock us into widening our horizons, and into learning with St. Francis that the whole family of creation deserves more respect and ought to be invited to praise God along with us human beings. Maybe just as Francis accused himself of negligence for not inviting the birds—and other animals, reptiles, and so forth—to praise God with him, so we need to admit the same kind of negligence, too.

The more St. Francis grew in wisdom and in his understanding that God’s saving love goes out to all creatures, the more he began to see that all creatures make up one family. The most important key to Francis’ understanding that all creatures form one family is the Incarnation. Francis had a great fascination for the feast of Christmas. He was deeply aware of that one moment in history in which God entered creation and the Word became flesh. In his mind, this awesome event sent shockwaves through the whole fabric of creation. The Divine Word not only became human. The Word of God became flesh, entering not only the family of humanity but the whole family of creation, becoming one in a sense with the very dust out of which all things were made...

As if this were not enough, Friar Jack goes on to address the the thought that was immediately coming up in my own mind - how is it that, given such insight into God's mercy for all of creation, there are still many Christians teaching their children that animals have no "souls" and therefore cannot be expected to have eternal life. (That always seems a little Manichean to me, as though spirit were good, and flesh somehow base and suspect - which makes God's motives in the Incarnation seem a bit odd, to say the least.) He says:

Will we see our pets and other creatures in the next life? Only God can answer a question like this. But because of his preaching to the birds and his growing respect for other creatures, St. Francis seemed to be developing the insight that God’s plan of salvation is perhaps larger than most of us have imagined. Near the end of his life, Francis composed his Canticle of the Creatures in which he invites all creatures to praise God - Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brother Fire, Sister Water, and our Sister Mother Earth and so forth. He seems to see more clearly than ever that all creatures make up one family of creation. And this leads to the question: If we, like Francis, are expected to invite all creatures to praise God with us during our life here on earth, shouldn’t they also be invited to praise God in heaven, as well?

In an article in St Anthony Messenger Magazine, Friar Jack gives us some words I'll borrow to sum up, words which show him truly to be my brother, and a man after my own heart:

...from all the evidence... I believe we can make a good case for the hope embedded deep in each human heart, namely, that the whole family of creation will someday share in the fullness of salvation won by Jesus Christ.

The more we see the full implications of our belief in the resurrection of the body and understand the biblical vision of God's inclusive love, the easier it is for us to give a hopeful answer to our children's question.

In the final analysis, how many of us are truly satisfied with a vision of heaven that does not include the whole family of creation? We take comfort, therefore, in St. Paul's words that "all creation is groaning" for its freedom and redemption (Romans 8:22). More than that, we embrace the great apostle's "hope that creation itself would... share in the glorious freedom of the children of God" (Romans 8:21).

I get it...

Kelly Joyce Neff, over at Fioretta, has a just wonderful post all about the necessity of the Church, and how God uses the institutions of the Church to hold us, and keep us, despite our wanderings - like the paths of a labyrinth bring us at last to the still centre.

Actually, I'm not doing justice to Kelly's post. Just click over there and read it... now, before you forget!

Her closing words are priceless: "I was a little nonplussed at first at all this passion and traditio and Mozart's great C Minor Mass thundering in the back of my mind - I sound like such a conservative! - but, amid all the imagery, good and bad, glorious and ignoble. there was our little man of Assisi, smiling gently. Yes, Blessed Father Francis, I get it."

Yes!

Famine to Feast

Let me define what I mean by famine. Famine is the reigning myth. It is king and queen, emperor and president. As the kids would say, “It rules.” Myth one is that there is not enough. You will barely get through an hour anywhere in the first-world without the subtext of “there is not enough” coming up. “I would love to come but I am so busy.”

Myth two is that more is better. “When I get the promotion or the gig or the partner, then I will have the more I need to be better.”

Myth three is that there is nothing you can do about it. “I won’t get the promotion or the gig or the partner, and if I do it won’t work out, so there is really nothing to do but stay here and whine about it along with the rest of the culture.”

Myth four—and this is really a new one, straight from the Republicans—is that you are personally responsible. No pension? You must have invested your 401K wrong. No health insurance? You probably didn’t take good care of your health. No freedom from work? You probably went to the wrong graduate school.

These four myths are relatives. They all belong to the same family. They dine very well together every night. There is not enough. More is better. There is nothing you can do about it. You are personally responsible.

The story of the wedding at Cana is a striking alternative to the king, queen, prince, and princess myths. It says just the opposite: there is plenty, we have enough, there are lots of things you can do to change things, and we are positively personally responsible. There is not blame here—as in who ordered the wrong amount of wine—but there is hope. As they will say at the World Social Forum, over and over again, another world is possible.

I am a recovering famine freak. I am training myself to be a feast freak. I choose small strategic gifts. I choose a feast mentality (even though there are plenty of days of desperation and despair still left). I also choose a steady principled pace that has plenty of time for setbacks—as well as plenty of time built into it for my money to create lasting change. The better wine is coming. That is the first and central point of view I have on money. From there the rest is simpler.

From Living Well While Doing Good by Donna Schaper. A Seabury Book, an imprint of Church Publishing. Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org

[Courtesy of Vicki K Black]

Things are still slightly different here in the UK; but there are plenty, in and out of Government, who feel that the answer to the funding crisis in the National Health Service is private health insurance, and that the answer to the increasing cost of pensions as people on average live longer is to insist on privately-funded or employer-driven pension schemes. The culture of blame is spreading so widely that schools dare not organise school outings for fear of being blamed if something goes wrong, and hospitals dare not allow flowers to brighten the lives of patients for fear of being blamed for the spread of infection.

As Christians we may feel that there is little we can do to help a situation like this: that between the Press and the Government, the famine mentality is here to stay. Yet we can each live the feast. St Francis used to encourage his Brothers to preach the Gospel, and only to use words if necessary. Who knows what might not be achieved if we were to live, and to pray, the Gospel life in the midst of the culture of appetite?