Alight‘The formative impact over time of praying day and night in a Cistercian church comes from the interplay of light and shadow. The world we have made full of glaring lights and those maddening fixtures that switch themselves on at Read More
Cistercian ShapeI was glad to be able to provide the following blurb for Nathaniel Peter’s excellent book on the early Cistercian movement, just out: ‘The early iconography of Cîteaux tends to show Cistercians engaged in purposeful work: chopping wood, sowing fields, Read More
Ciudad SilenciosaToday, on the Day of Pentecost, was broadcast a conversation I was privileged to conduct a few weeks ago with María del Ser for her weekly programme, La Ciudad silenciosa, always worth listening to. María asked what is unique to music as an art form. I stumblingly answered: What is specific to music among the arts? It’s terribly difficult to define! But I do find that music has a singular immediacy. I admit that mine is a subjective judgement. Some people are more susceptible to poetry or the visual arts. But if one is of this particular bent of mind, has that sensibility, music enables an immediacy that I, certainly, don’t find in other arts. I can be affected by them, by all means, but not as viscerally as I am by music. We talked about many things: my experience of hearing Così fan tutte as a child; the excellence of Jan Garbarek; the sublimity and banality of Geirr Tveitt; the inexhaustibility of Beethoven’s Quartets; and the thought behind Coram Fratribus. You can listen to our conversation, in Spanish and English, here. From Hans Memling’s triptych of Five Angels Playing Musical Instruments the Church of Santa Maria la Real, Nájera.
PinsePreken holdt ved konfirmasjonsmessen på 1. pinsedag. Apg 2.1-11: Da hørtes plutselig et brus i luften. 1 Kor 12.3-13: Ingen kan si, “Jesus er Herre”, uten ved Den Hellige Ånd. Joh 20.19-23: Fred være med dere. Kjære konfirmanter! I ett år har dere forberedt dere på i dag. Dere er blitt undervist. Dere har tatt del i menighetens liv på ymse vis. Jeg håper dere har fått gode nye venner. Dere mottar konfirmasjonens sakrament på Pinsedagen. Det er passende. Til pinse feirer vi Den hellige Ånds komme. Når dere om litt, knelende, konfirmeres og tegnes med hellig krisma, sier jeg: “Motta seglet på Guds gave, Den hellige Ånd”. Konfirmasjonen er som pinse i miniatyr. Men hva handler dette om, egentlig — å “motta Den hellige Ånd”? Dere har lært at Guds vesen er et mysterium. Et mysterium er noe som overgår vår forstand. Det betyr ikke at det er ufornuftig. Nei, evnen til fornuft er et uttrykk for dét at mennesket er skapt i Guds bilde. Evangeliet byr oss å elske Herren vår Gud “av all [vår] forstand”. Det skal vi ta på alvor. Å være katolikk, er ikke å skru av sin kritiske sans. Tvert imot: det er å bruke forstanden grundig; mens vi innser, samtidig, at der finnes en virkelighet vi ennå ikke skjønner fullt ut. Mens vi lever i tid, er det vanskelig, rett og slett, å begripe hva evighet er. Gud ble menneske, Ordet ble kjød, for å bringe oss mysteriet nærmere. Jesus viser oss Faderen (Jn 14.8-9). Når han snakker, sier folk, “Aldri har noe menneske talt sånn som denne mannen!” (Jn 7.46). Han gjør usedvanlige ting. Han gir lamme førlighet; blinde får se; døve får høre. Han oppvekker endatil de døde. Kvinner og menn som i årevis er gått rundt i ørske, blir klarsynte. Jesus setter mennesker i stand til å legge vreden fra seg, til å la seg forsone. Han har evnen til å gå inn i en spent situasjon for så, bare ved sitt nærvær, å skape fred. Det gjør godt å være hos ham. Folk trasker i dagevis i håp om å få hans oppmerksomhet et øyeblikk. Så lenge han er der, synes det åpenbart hvem, og hva, Gud er. Da lyder det ikke abstrakt eller sentimentalt å si: “Gud er kjærlighet”. Jesus viser oss Guds kjærlighet på en fullstendig troverdig måte. Jesus sier, “Ingen har større kjærlighet enn den som gir sitt liv for sine venner” (Jn 15.13). Det gjør han selv til Påske, etter å ha innstiftet Nattverden som uttrykk for total hengivenhet. Han går inn i døden, så gjennom den. Kjærlighet er sterkere enn døden (jfr. Høys 8.6). Kjærligheten gir vår forstand puffet den trenger for å ane hva evighet betyr. I førti dager etter oppstandelsen, går Jesus inn og ut blant disiplene. Han lar dem bekrefte at det er sant alt dette de har opplevd; det er ingen drøm at han har seiret over døden, det er fullkomment reelt. Men han lar dem også forstå at de må venne seg til å kjenne ham på en ny måte. Alt lenge har han snakket om Ånden som skal komme. Ånden skal bringe sannhet og trøst, gjøre Jesus nærværende. I Ånden skal vi få kjenne frihet og glede (Joh 15-16). Så kommer vi til Pinsen, når Den hellige Ånd gis til apostlene og, gjennom dem, til hele Kirken. Bibelen beskriver Ånden som ild: “noe som lignet flammer av ild kom til syne, og delte seg og senket seg over hver enkelt av dem”. Opplevelsen har tre umiddelbare følger. For det første, blir apostlene fryktløse. De tumler ned fra loftet hvor de stort sett har holdt seg ute av syne siden Påske, ut i gatene. Redselen for andre er blitt borte. For det andre, får de evne til å gjøre seg forstått. “De begynte å tale i andre tungemål”, plutselig i stand til å snakke sånn at det de sier beriker og er begripelig for folk med annet utgangspunkt. For det tredje, ser de tilværelsen med ny klarhet. Det gjør inntrykk å sammenligne talen Peter holder til Pinse med berettelsen om hvordan han, på Langfredag, ikke engang kunne redegjøre for eget navn, egen adresse. Ånden lar ting falle på plass. Det er dette dagens feiring handler om, konfirmanter. Også dere er kalt til å vende dere bort fra isolasjon inn mot fellesskap, til å kommunisere meningsfullt, til å finne fasiten som gjør at livets gåte lar seg løse. Ildtunger kommer over dere i dag — kanskje mindre synlige enn de på Pinsedag, men ikke mindre reelle. Husk, Ånden er kjærlighetens Ånd. Kjærlighet begynner gjerne med forelskelse. De fleste av oss vet hvordan forelskelse arter seg. Vi driver med vårt. Vi gjør lekser, jobber litt, er oppslukt av en hobby: håndball, Minecraft, keramikk, hva som helst. Vi synes vi har det bra, at vi ikke mangler stort. Så dukker det med ett opp et menneske som endrer alt: Vi kan ikke tenke på annet enn henne eller ham; alt det som, inntil i går, fylte livet med innhold, har mistet interesse. Vi vil bare være nær den vi tenker vi muligens kan begynne å elske. Fra forelskelse til kjærlighet som bærer, går det en lang vei: Det vet ethvert ektepar som har vært gift i noen år. Ikke desto mindre er det viktig å holde den første flammen i live. Vær åpne, konfirmanter, for ilden dere nå mottar. La dere opplyse av Guds fascinerende mysterium. La hans kjærlighet få bolig i dere. Og gjør den kjent for andre. Amen. Detalj fra El Grecos pinseunder.
Alight‘The formative impact over time of praying day and night in a Cistercian church comes from the interplay of light and shadow. The world we have made full of glaring lights and those maddening fixtures that switch themselves on at the merest twitch of a spider, making an option for subdued light impossible, can cause us to forget what it is to be at ease in such in-between-ness. Bright light is not always what is needed to reveal an object’s perfection. The gloss of oriental lacquerware shows to best effect in flickering candlelight; gilded medieval statuary takes for granted the flux of dawn and dusk. In the glare of a spotlight the gold just looks vulgar.’ From Alight with Hidden Glory, published this week.
Cistercian ShapeI was glad to be able to provide the following blurb for Nathaniel Peter’s excellent book on the early Cistercian movement, just out: ‘The early iconography of Cîteaux tends to show Cistercians engaged in purposeful work: chopping wood, sowing fields, building houses. The Order’s fecundity was enabled by a spirit of enterprise. The enterprise, though, was theologically informed. Nathaniel Peters traces the shape of a twelfth-century movement that somehow produced, at the same time, mystical literature, novel architecture, and advances in sheep-farming. His elegant study of the intersection of Trinitarian and Eucharistic doctrines in three Cistercian thinkers points towards a timeless truth: the sacramental, incarnational realism of Christian doctrine. That is an emphasis we need right now, in times given to virtual flights of fancy.’
RededicationHomily preached at the rededication of the Catholic chapel at Stiklestad, the site of St Olav’s martyrdom. It took place on the birthday of Sigrid Undset, chairman of the committee that oversaw the building of the chapel in 1930, to mark the 900th anniversary of the Battle of Stiklestad. You can find photographs of the opening here. Politics is marked by rough and tumble. One day a smiling chief stands on an smart balcony, a carnation on his lapel, lauded by the people; the next day, the same crowd quite happily throws him out of the window. That’s the way it is now; that’s the way it’s always been. When Olav Haraldsson came back to Norway in 1015, claiming the kingdom, some people resisted, true; but most pressed him to their heart. They preferred a Norwegian sceptre to the foreign yoke of the Danish king. Olav had ten good years. He established a Christian code of law; united the country; nurtured the notion of what it might mean to form a nation. Norwegians liked this at first. Then they started murmuring. Olav seemed to ask too much. His laws restricted local grandees, used to ruling the roost. Suddenly it seemed quite nice, after all, to have a king who lived far away. The machinations of the Norwegian gentry at the Danish court forced Olav to leave the country. Where should he go? He went to Kyivan Rus’, where Grand Prince Yaroslav and his queen Ingegjerd — whom Olav had loved in his youth — received him warmly. Olav spent a year and a half with them. Yaroslav tried to cheer him up as best he could. He advised Olav to forget about Norway. He offered him Bulgaria. The weather is a lot better there. Snorre tells us that Olav considered this offer. At the same time he weighed up more radical options. Should he relinquish his royal title and set off as a pilgrim to Jerusalem, where he had been bound sixteen years earlier? He had got as far as Cadiz then, when a man appeared to him in a dream, and said: ‘Return to your inheritance! You are to be king of Norway for perpetuity.’ Olav further considered becoming a monk. His time in Kyivan exile deepened him. He settled accounts with himself. His motives were purified. I thought of his experience when, on 10 May 2023, I was sauntering around Kyiv while the city took a deep breath after a night of heavy bombing. Cardinal Arborelius and I were making a visit of solidarity on behalf of the Nordic Bishops’ Conference. With reverence we paused before the Blue Church, where countless notices commemorate the fallen of Ukraine in Russia’s ongoing war of aggression. Then we were taken to see Sancta Sophia, Kyiv’s cathedral, a magnificent edifice. One has always known that Yaroslav masterminded its construction, but there has been disagreement about when it began. Archeological evidence has now brought near unanimity: foundations were laid in 1011. The church will have looked splendid when Olav visited Rus’ in 1028. Yaroslav was proud of Sancta Sophia. I refuse to believe that he wouldn’t have taken Olav there on a thorough tour, whistling with contentment. It is profoundly affecting, then, for a Norwegian to find himself in Sancta Sophia and look up towards the cupola. It shows a mosaic of Christ Pantokrator, ‘Ruler of all’. The cathedral is dedicated to Christ as the incarnate expression of God the Father’s eternal Wisdom. Devotion to Wisdom was part of Olav’s political and (I’ll risk the term) existential project. The church in Kyiv gives architectural and visual expression to his long-pondered sense of the meaning of existence. The memory of Sancta Sophia will have illumined Olav when, again, he had a decisive dream. Olav Tryggvason appeared to him and said: ‘What are you waiting for? Go back to the kingdom that is your inheritance!’ So he set out from Rus’ bound for this place, Stiklestad, where he would find the vision of the heavenly ladder as well as the axe and sword by which he fell, and the stone upon which he died. When, a bit later into 2023, we realised that our Catholic chapel here on the hill required urgent restoration, it seemed natural to manifest the axis that unites Kyiv with Værdalen, this area. The Pantokrator that now embellishes the chapel’s axis recalls the cupola of Sancta Sophia. It is positioned opposite the stained-glass portrait of Olav on the west wall. There he stands, eyes set on Christ, as he gets ready for battle. The Wisdom Christ brings oriented the final, defining stage of Olav’s life. Seen with worldly eyes, this Wisdom seems like foolishness. ‘No one has greater love than he who gives his life for his friends.’ It was by giving his life, after throwing away his sword, that Olav, in death, won the nation. Thereby he gives it direction to this day, if we would pay heed. He is still Rex perpetuus Norvegiae, Norway’s perpetual king. Today’s world does not, on the whole, give a damn about Wisdom. Yaroslav’s Rus’ is still under mad attack. Olav’s Norway is easily seduced by senselessness. It is useful, then, to look intently towards the apse in this chapel, and remember: the Wisdom the Church brings, to which she testifies, isn’t an optional tool for self-improvement; it stands for the principle by which we, and our choices, will be judged. Face to face with Wisdom two paths appear on the horizon: the path of death and the path of life. We cannot walk both at the same time. We must choose. Sigrid Undset was conscious of this when, in 1930, she oversaw the construction of this chapel. Undset sensed which way the wind was blowing in Europe. She despised fascism with an undivided heart. She saw how fascism perverts the human heart, nurturing Luciferian dreams of omnipotence. When man starts to think himself pantokrator, the ultimate criterion for all things, he is capable of terrible stupidity, and even more terrible cruelty. In an essay from 1935, Undset warns against what she calls ‘the isolation of fetishism — worship of things and ideas we have fashioned ourselves.’ Such worship, she writes, ‘is ultimately self-worship, and since humankind cannot subsist without supernatural help, it spells extinction and death.’ Undset recognised the ‘the isolation of fetishism’ as a grave peril in the 1930s. We know what it led to then, even though people are more and more inclined to forget. Are we conscious of where this tendency might take us today as it continues, now, to find new and hateful expression? The fact that the image of God’s Holy Wisdom, made tangible as self-giving love, is now peacefully manifest here on the hill of Stiklestad, which stands for our nation’s heart, Cor Norvegiae, seems to me a prophetic sign and a call to self-examination as we look forward to the millennium in 2030 of Olav’s oblative death. Amen. A sound recording of the homily, in Norwegian, is available here: https://coramfratribus.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Stiklestad-20.-mai-2026.mp3
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Today we celebrate the Solemnity of Pentecost - the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles and empowered them to preach the Gospel. Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of Read More 12 Comments
Congratulations TiernanCongratulations Tiernan Burke on your special day 🙏🙏🙏Congratulations 🙏🙏
We are delighted to share that Tiernan Burke of Whitechurch will be ordained to the priesthood for the Diocese of Cloyne, tomorrow, Sunday, 24th May, the Feast of Pentecost. The Ordination Mass will take place in St Colman’s Cathedral at 3.00pm, Read More 2 Likes
Photos from Cloyne Diocese's postToday we celebrate the Solemnity of Pentecost - the day when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles and empowered them to preach the Gospel. Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of Read More 2 Comments
Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Brendan, May 16th. St. Brendan, is best known for his famous voyages and for his achievements as a monk labouring for Christ in the early days of Christianity in Ireland. Like St. Brendan we Read More 2 Comments
Brendan WilmotAndrew Coleman what a scholar Andy not like me lolGlanire Commercial Cleaning Long hours and steady focus like Brendan’s voyages—that’s what keeps us ahead here.
Glanire Commercial Cleaning Long hours and steady focus like Brendan’s voyages—that’s what keeps us ahead here. 
