Coram Fratibus

Words on the Word

Erik Varden is a monk and bishop, born in Norway in 1974. In 2002, after ten years at the University of Cambridge, he joined Mount Saint Bernard Abbey in Charnwood Forest. Pope Francis named him bishop of Trondheim in 2019.

Please find below a selection of homilies:

Coram Fratribus

Amoris Laetitia ‘The indissolubility of marriage […] should not be viewed as a yoke imposed on humanity, but as a gift’ (62). ‘Jesus, who reconciled all things in himself, restored marriage and the family to their original form’ (63). ‘The married couple Read More

Coram Fratribus

Notre Dame To see the restored cathedral of Notre Dame is marvellous. The brightness of the stone, the clear brilliance of the rose window, the pristineness of everything let us share the exhilaration Medieval people must have felt on entering this space Read More

Coram Fratribus

Hidden Life Living as we do in the midst of rapid societal change, certain questions haunt us. How do we emerge from isolation into community? Are there durable values without which civilisation withers? Does our constant flood of words carry meaning? These Read More

Coram Fratribus

After DEI? ‘Wherever truth is genuinely sought, there must be a willingness to reason carefully, to acknowledge complexity, to distinguish matters of principle from matters of prudence, to learn from those with whom we disagree, and to submit our own judgments to Read More

Coram Fratribus

Hospodi pomiluj One of the loveliest moments at this year’s SingCon was the repeated experience of singing, at the end of the vigil for the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Lvovsky’s 72-fold Hospodi pomiluj (Kyrie eleison) in four-part harmony, following a chromatic Read More

Coram Fratribus

Autumn Each year,
until you come, 
I forget
your beauty,
as the face 
of an absent friend:
that same ruddiness
that composure 
of a still evening
waxing and waning
or crinkling
in laughter
like leaves 
caught up by the wind
then masked by shade
so they fade
from memory.

Coram Fratribus

Being Suave I balked a little when reading the collect at the end of Vigils this morning. It praises God for inspiring in St Jerome ‘suavem et vivum Scripturæ Sanctæ affectum’. The English liturgy speaks of a ‘living and tender love for Read More

Coram Fratribus

Intelligence Yesterday, at the HQ of Unesco in Paris, Pope Leo XIV said: ‘Over the centuries, many tasks once performed by human beings have been entrusted to machines, whose capabilities and applications have continued to expand. More recently, certain artificial systems Read More

Coram Fratribus

Amoris Laetitia ‘The indissolubility of marriage […] should not be viewed as a yoke imposed on humanity, but as a gift’ (62). ‘Jesus, who reconciled all things in himself, restored marriage and the family to their original form’ (63). ‘The married couple are […] a permanent reminder for the Church of what took place on the cross’ (72). ‘[The child born of the mutual love of spouses] does not appear at the end of a process, it is present from the beginning of love as an essential feature, one that cannot be denied without disfiguring that love itself’ (80). ‘When the search for pleasure becomes obsessive, it holds us in thrall and keeps us from experiencing other satisfactions’ (126). ‘To believe that we are good simply because we feel good is a tremendous illusion’ (145). ‘Families should not see themselves as a refuge from society, but instead go forth’ (181). ‘God has given the family the job of domesticating the world’ (183). ‘Nothing is more volatile, precarious and unpredictable than desire. The decision to marry should never be encouraged unless the couple has discerned deeper reasons that will ensure a genuine and stable commitment’ (209). ‘Each must set aside all illusions and accept the other as he or she actually is: an unfinished product, needing to grow, a work in progress’ (218). ‘In order to avoid all misunderstanding, I would point out that in no way must the Church desist from proposing the full ideal of marriage’ (307).

Coram Fratribus

Notre Dame To see the restored cathedral of Notre Dame is marvellous. The brightness of the stone, the clear brilliance of the rose window, the pristineness of everything let us share the exhilaration Medieval people must have felt on entering this space at a time when the Gothic style was not only not old, but cutting-edge. How it has endured, though, transcending time. The same cannot be said for the peculiar new altar. It stands for an urge to leave a contemporary mark that already, after a couple of years, seems dated. It disturbs the eye. Oh well, one has but to raise it. I was enchanted by a feature I’d never noticed before: the sculpted wall along the back of the choir, a fourteenth-century work showing scenes from the life of Christ. This account of the apostles asleep during Christ’s prayer in Gethsemani is touching. There is intimacy in the men’s dereliction. Huddled together, they display a wholly natural tendency to seek comfort in human warmth when faced with the solitude of Christ’s Sacred Passion. That tendency is not sinful – the sleepers are haloed – but must be cleansed and directed. What is human in us has to rise to face God’s awesome holiness, something each of us must do in his or her own name. No one can do it on our behalf.

Coram Fratribus

Hidden Life Living as we do in the midst of rapid societal change, certain questions haunt us. How do we emerge from isolation into community? Are there durable values without which civilisation withers? Does our constant flood of words carry meaning? These are among the questions addressed in a book published this week, a conversation with Nicolas Diat structured on the discourse Pope Benedict XVI gave at the Collège des Bernardins in 2008. That text remains a powerful summons recalling us to the monastic roots of western culture. For my part, I’d venture to maintain that ‘the theologian’s task is to say the unspeakable with purified words, not to invent, but to restore. It is humble work, a discourse born of silence, on our knees. […] A monastic theologian resembles a restorer of paintings. First he removes impurities, accumulated layers of dust, in order to find his way back to the original, pure form of words; then he undertakes to use these with reverence. To accomplish anything in this respect, humility is called for. This search for transformed words is intimately linked to the pursuit of silence.’

Coram Fratribus

After DEI? ‘Wherever truth is genuinely sought, there must be a willingness to reason carefully, to acknowledge complexity, to distinguish matters of principle from matters of prudence, to learn from those with whom we disagree, and to submit our own judgments to rational scrutiny. These habits of mind are, alas, rare in our public life. They are nevertheless indispensable, not only to scholarship, but also to the health of any free society.’ With these words Professor Robert P. George introduces, and commends, a book just out. It brings together a series of papers presented at a 2024 Princeton seminar in which I was privileged to participate. I spoke then of a need to ‘rescue from mythicised mists precious notions needed to speak afresh a common, desirable human purpose.’ I still believe that holds. This book provides helpful inspiration and guidance. 

Coram Fratribus

Hospodi pomiluj One of the loveliest moments at this year’s SingCon was the repeated experience of singing, at the end of the vigil for the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Lvovsky’s 72-fold Hospodi pomiluj (Kyrie eleison) in four-part harmony, following a chromatic pattern that first descends into the depths, then rises hopeful, and ultimately jubilant, to the tonal norm. You can find a recording here. The refrain accompanied the presiding bishop’s gracious gestures of reverence. Each aspect of the celebration conspired to make one realise that Christ’s mercy, poured out on the Cross, effectively follows us everywhere: ‘If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me’ (Psalm 139.8-10). May we never forget it. As an example of how a prayerful acclamation can cross cultural boundaries, you may wish to compare the recording indicated above with this one, which is simply terrific. 

Coram Fratribus

Autumn Each year,
until you come, 
I forget
your beauty,
as the face 
of an absent friend:
that same ruddiness
that composure 
of a still evening
waxing and waning
or crinkling
in laughter
like leaves 
caught up by the wind
then masked by shade
so they fade
from memory.

Coram Fratribus

Being Suave I balked a little when reading the collect at the end of Vigils this morning. It praises God for inspiring in St Jerome ‘suavem et vivum Scripturæ Sanctæ affectum’. The English liturgy speaks of a ‘living and tender love for Sacred Scripture’, but ‘tender’ doesn’t quite render ‘suavis’, which suggests sweetness. Sweetness is not what we associate with Jerome. His bad temper was legendary. It is amply attested to in his writings. He was a fearful adversary. Yet there was a gentleness to him. We sense it when we hear him speak of the Bible, which he loved deeply. The lion without which he is rarely seen bears witness to it, too. The story goes that Jerome was lecturing in Bethlehem one day when a limping lion turned up. While his students fled in dread, Jerome calmly stayed, perceiving that the lion was in pain. It had stepped on a thorn. Jerome extracted it. Such was the lion’s relief that it hung around for the rest of its life, the only companion, really, who could put up with Jerome over time. Did he recognise himself in this fierce animal? Who knows. Their partnership reminds us, in any case, that no character trait is definitive. Somewhere underneath asperity suave kindness may be found. We must learn how to provoke it.

Coram Fratribus

Intelligence Yesterday, at the HQ of Unesco in Paris, Pope Leo XIV said: ‘Over the centuries, many tasks once performed by human beings have been entrusted to machines, whose capabilities and applications have continued to expand. More recently, certain artificial systems have even been given the name of our human faculty of thought: intelligence. At the same time, however, our ideas and relationships risk being impoverished by a process of dehumanization. The paradox has become increasingly evident: while “intelligence” is attributed to computational systems, we struggle to recognise the inalienable dignity of human persons, whose lives are judged according to the criterion of efficiency and, when deemed no longer productive, are rejected and discarded.’ It is timely, and helpful, to have this semantic quandary pinpointed, that we may assiduously foster ‘intelligence’ in its true, humane sense, which includes not least an ability to read between lines, inter legere.