Alight in Audio‘What weighs us down now lacks lasting substance. The weight of glory draws us upwards, towards a magnificent, multiple glory. Configured to a full share in Christ’s life, we shall know the patient joy of God who proclaims in Psalm Read More
Undsetiana‘The biography of Sigrid Undset is already a novel’, wrote Fr Jean-Robert Armogathe in an essay published in Communio eight years ago. If you read French, his piece is an excellent introduction to her life and work. Fr Aidan Nichols’s Read More
AgeingA monastic obituary provides, with the straightforwardness of the genre, a paradigm of how to age humanely: ‘[Fr Kenneth] had been suffering from memory loss for many years, but he was still praying the liturgy of the hours in choir Read More
Alight in Audio‘What weighs us down now lacks lasting substance. The weight of glory draws us upwards, towards a magnificent, multiple glory. Configured to a full share in Christ’s life, we shall know the patient joy of God who proclaims in Psalm 90, ‘I am with him in tribulation.’ He also says: ‘My delight is to be with the sons of men.’ ‘Oh Emmanuel,’ Bernard responds: ‘God with us!’ He adds: ‘Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you,’ delicately outlining the Marian character of graced growth into authentic Christian maturity. God knows what we desire and thirst for, what is truly to our liking. We must not settle for too little. We must know, and proclaim, in whose image we are made, what greatness we are capable of.’ From Alight with Hidden Glory, which today, on the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, is launched as an audiobook.
St BonaventureEphesians 3.14-19: Out of his infinite glory, may he give you power. Matthew 23.8-12: The greatest among you must be your servant. St Bonaventure is a defining presence in Europe’s dramatic thirteenth century, the century of Dominic and Francis, of Thomas Aquinas and Marco Polo, of St Louis and Frederick II. The thirteenth century is sometimes called ‘the Western century’. During it, the self-understanding and sensibility of the western world acquired a particular form. That is not to say it was a stable period. No, it was, as Josef Pieper has stressed, a time of civilisational crisis. Lots of people were at a loss to know what parameters to steer by. That is why certain outstanding individuals could wield such influence, as they traced a path it seemed attractive and sensible to follow. At times of chaos, wisdom and integrity are usually in short supply. Where these qualities are evident, they are noticed, and appreciated. Bonaventure was born near Viterbo in 1221, a sickly child. His parents feared for his life. One day, St Francis came along on one of his preaching missions. The poor boy was presented to him. Francis healed him; then named him, for he held the child up and exclaimed, ‘O Bona Ventura’, ‘O Good Fortune’! It is hardly excessive to say that Bonaventure was predestined, pretty much, to become a Franciscan in turn. He joined the order at 22. Not long afterwards he was sent to study in Paris. His superiors recognised his brilliant mind. He received his doctorate alongside St Thomas Aquinas, his friend. St Thomas is said to have asked Bonaventure what the wonderful source might be from which he drew such exceptional insight into the mystery of faith. Bonaventure’s answer, well attested, is displayed in a picture Zurbarán painted in 1629. It shows Bonaventure bringing Thomas discreetly into his study. Over his desk is a curtained alcove. Bonaventure draws the curtain aside to reveal a lifelike crucifix. The message is clear: this man of fierce intelligence drew his theological acumen from constant meditation on the saving and transforming Passion of God made man. Bonaventure contributed substantially to the science of theology. His writings are stringent and at the same time beautiful. It makes sense that the young Josef Ratzinger should have chosen Bonaventure, precisely, as the subject for his doctoral thesis. At thirty-five Bonaventure was elected Father General of the Franciscans. It was a heavy responsibility at a time when many vital decisions had to made about the Order’s orientation and future. He was not left to live out his days as a simple friar, however. Bonaventure’s gifts had not gone unnoticed by the Church’s hierarchy. He was appointed bishop of York in 1265, but pleaded for his brothers, who needed him. He was excused then. But eight years later, Pope Gregory X clearly thought the Franciscans had had their fair share of Bonaventure. He was needed, now, by the universal Church. The pope appointed him, in consequence, cardinal bishop of Albano. I love the account of how Bonaventure, bishop elect, received his appointment. Summoned to Rome by the pope, Bonaventure had made it as far as Florence. There he was staying for a day or two in a Franciscan friary. One evening, when the brethren had finished their supper, Bonaventure stood outside washing the dishes. Two papal legates arrived in splendour, carrying the bull creating Bonaventure cardinal as well as his insignia of office. Bonaventure asked them kindly to hang his cardinal’s galero on a tree-branch and to take a stroll so that he might finish his dishwashing. Then he obediently took up his hat and followed the legates to Rome, where the pope had him help prepare the Second Council of Lyons, of momentous ecumenical promise. During that council, in 1274, Bonaventure died, quite likely of exhaustion, 53 years old. The dishwashing incident is often retold as an instance of supposed Franciscan clownery, as if it showed nothing but a humble, humorous friar gently mocking Roman pomp. I do not think such a reading holds water. Bonaventure had far too great esteem for the Petrine office to presume to make fun of it. The incident speaks, rather, of his innate sense of the significance of things. Bonaventure wrote that ‘we must transform the peak of our affections, directing them to God alone’. This orientation applies potentially to all human activity. A task cordially performed for God’s sake has its own singular, glorious integrity whether it involves attendance at a distinguished council or the domestic duties that regulate the life of any community or family. Dishwashing can reach the stature of liturgy. To be faithful in small things is a great thing. Bonaventure shows that, in a life lived for Christ, there is no hierarchy of tasks. What matters is to do as well as we can, for love’s sake, what we are providentially summoned to do now, be it public or hidden. Then we shall serve God’s cause blessedly. Bonaventure concluded his life of Francis with a passage that stresses Francis’s deep devotion to the cross. The proverbial joy of St Francis did not spring from relentless cheerfulness, which would have been wearying; it sprang from awareness of the gladsome grace poured out on us in Jesus’s saving Passion. ‘O glorious standard-bearer of Christ’, his biographer wrote, ‘beginning from the Cross, you made progress according to the rule of the Cross, and at length you are made perfect in the Cross’. Much the same could be said about Bonaventure himself.
Undsetiana‘The biography of Sigrid Undset is already a novel’, wrote Fr Jean-Robert Armogathe in an essay published in Communio eight years ago. If you read French, his piece is an excellent introduction to her life and work. Fr Aidan Nichols’s Reader of Hearts from 2022 has been described as ‘a portrait of Sigrid Undset without rival’. Do read Valerie Stivers’s account of the role Undset’s fiction played in her conversion: ‘I had always imagined the Church as a distant and cruel regulatory body, and suddenly I saw it as Undset did, as the place you turn with the whole unregulated mass of your life—as the only place large enough for it.’ Just the other day Amy Fahey, a scholar of Undset, wrote about her ‘Holdfast Sanctity‘, a phrase to chew on. In the blogosphere, Stubborn Veritas considers multiple aspects of Undset’s works. One can read there that Undset ‘had encountered the reality of Catholicism so clearly and convincingly that […] her being necessitated it.’ Another blog simply called Sigrid Undset provides fresh versions of texts not available in published volumes. It hasn’t had a lot of new entries recently, but something tells me it may become more productive soon.
AgeingA monastic obituary provides, with the straightforwardness of the genre, a paradigm of how to age humanely: ‘[Fr Kenneth] had been suffering from memory loss for many years, but he was still praying the liturgy of the hours in choir and celebrating Mass until a week before his death. He could do many things. He was a barber and tailor, played the organ and sang, painted (perhaps not so well), did crosswords and played Scrabble and gin rummy, and told many puns. Being old and limited by his failing memory was hard for someone used to being active and productive, but he adapted to his limitations with grace. As he became older and more forgetful, he became sensitive to noise and a bit belligerent if people blocked his way, but his default mode was to be gentle and unobtrusive. He had a strong sense of what was proper, whether in grammar or dress. He was not fussy about what he ate, but careful how he ate it. Although he couldn’t remember most things, each morning he thanked the cooks in French. If there are cooks in Heaven, I am sure he is thanking them too. We are grateful for having him in our midst, a gentleman, monk, priest, and faithful follower of Christ.’
How Grace WorksA conversation with Mark Makowiecki was an opportunity to talk about what makes a good teacher and about the impact good books can have, about how God’s grace works in ordinary people’s lives, about monasticism – and about Catholic life in the North. You can listen to the whole conversation here. On Sigrid Undset: ‘In addition to the great medieval cycles there are her so-called conversion novels, The Wild Orchid and The Burning Bush, both re-published in English, alongside many other Undset titles, by Cluny Media, that heroic enterprise which does so much to bring out excellent literature in new editions.’ The witness of a perseveringly faithful community is a strong incentive not to despair of one’s own circumstances. At a time when so many boats are being burnt and portcullises are lowered and walls are being built (unfortunately all these metaphors correspond to facts), it is really important to have places where there is an unconditional welcome. I saw this wall-painting recently, in Zurich, and liked it. I wouldn’t over-interpret, but it does convey something about life in the Spirit.
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Parish of Imogeela Summer Mass schedule: From weekend of 11th/12th July to weekend 1th/13th September inclusive Castlemartyr, Vigil Mass Saturday @ 7pm Dungourney, Vigil Mass Saturday @ 8pm Mogeely, Mass on Sunday @ 9.45am Clonmult, Mass onSunday at 11am 1 Likes
Today we celebrate Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The Carmelite communities inherit the early hermits' devotions to Elijah and his solitary prayer, and to Mary under this title of Mount Carmel. 1 Comments
Conducted Holy Hour of Eucharistic Adoration Led by Fr. John Keane , Director of Eucharistic Adoration Holy Hour Church of the Holy Rosary, Midleton - Tuesday 28th July Rosary at 7pm Eucharistic Adoration at 7:30pm All very welcome 1 Comments
Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Benedict. He was a sixth-century abbot who gave Christian monasticism its lasting foundation in Western Europe. St. Benedict was declared a co-patron of Europe (along with Saints Cyril and Methodius). St. Benedict is also Read More 2 Comments
Today we celebrate the feast of St. Kilian. He was an Irish missionary bishop and the Apostle of Franconia, where he began his labours in the latter half of the 7th century. 3 Comments
