Where’s Consolation?Only in the beauty created by others is there consolation, in the music of others and in others’ poems. Only others save us, even though solitude tastes like opium. The others are not hell, if you see them early, with their foreheads pure, cleansed by dreams. That is Read More
A Vital TextIt has been terrific, these past few years, to see Dom André Poisson’s remarkable text on the prayer of the heart, the best introduction to prayer I know, published in Spanish and Portuguese. As of this summer, there is finally Read More
OdysseyEveryone’s having an opinion about Nolan’s Odyssey these days. I’ll throw in my tuppence’s worth. Having read several reviews, I went to see it last night with high expectations. I was enthralled. The film is a magnificent achievement. Of course 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 Read More
Where’s Consolation?Only in the beauty created by others is there consolation, in the music of others and in others’ poems. Only others save us, even though solitude tastes like opium. The others are not hell, if you see them early, with their foreheads pure, cleansed by dreams. That is why I wonder what word should be used, “he” or “you.” Every “he” is a betrayal of a certain “you” but in return someone else’s poem offers the fidelity of a sober dialogue. From the collection Without End by Adam Zagajewski.
A Vital TextIt has been terrific, these past few years, to see Dom André Poisson’s remarkable text on the prayer of the heart, the best introduction to prayer I know, published in Spanish and Portuguese. As of this summer, there is finally an English version in print, in a handsomely produced, affordable booklet published by the CTS. I stand by what I say in the introduction: ‘I rejoice to recommend this little book with all my heart. It opened my eyes to ‘the boundless riches of Christ’; it pierced my heart with the light of a trust I had previously only known notionally; and it gave me a sense of what it might really mean to profess with the faith of the Church, defined at Nicaea: ‘I believe in the resurrection of the flesh’. It could do this because its author speaks with authority, of things he knows.’ Dom Poisson had a strong conviction that the life of prayer must embrace the whole person. He wrote: ‘Let us not pretend to be pure spirits. We are much better than that. We are children of God.’ For anyone interested, here is a German version, too, translated by a nun of Marienrode.
OdysseyEveryone’s having an opinion about Nolan’s Odyssey these days. I’ll throw in my tuppence’s worth. Having read several reviews, I went to see it last night with high expectations. I was enthralled. The film is a magnificent achievement. Of course it does not render the complexity of the text or the range of Homer’s characters. That is the fate of any version. Richard Bentley said as much when he told The Odyssey‘s perhaps most famous translator: ‘It is a pretty poem, Mr Pope, but you must not call it Homer.’ What Nolan does is to show why the epic matters, why the image of Scylla and Charybdis, or of Penelope’s loom, still form our consciousness; why the names of Eurycleia and Eumaeus fill us with tenderness; why the thought of Circe (terrifically dramatised) makes us shudder. He renders the text’s urgency. The typology of a civilisation dying is laboured, yet it does touch a presently raw nerve. Therefore I’m happy to indulge it. It makes you think. And it makes you want to re-read Homer. Had I not had to make an early start this morning, I’d have stayed up late into the night, The Odyssey in hand. A film producing such an effect may, I think, be called a success.
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.
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Today we celebrate St. Bridget of Sweden. St. Bridget of Sweden was a Mystic and Saint, and founder of the Bridgettine Nuns and Monks after the death of her husband of twenty years. She is also the patron saint of Read More 2 Comments
Today 22nd July we celebrate the Feast of Mary Magdalene. Mary was a follower of Christ and the first to witness His resurrection. St. Mary Magdalene pray for us today. 6 Comments
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 2 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
