Star gazing - Sr Louise O'Rourke

Cross post from Sr Louise O'Rourke at pilgrimsprogress:  

Already at the second week of Lent, the liturgy presents us with varying images for the journey. Sunday is the day in my week where I  stop and take stock of how the journey is going. We are on a Lenten pilgrimage but from where and towards where? 

Pope John Paul II writes in Incarnationis Mysterium 7: “A pilgrimage evokes the believer's personal journey in the footsteps of the Redeemer: it is an exercise of practical asceticism, of repentance for human weaknesses, of constant vigilance over one's own frailty, of interior preparation for a change of heart. Through vigils, fasting and prayer, the pilgrim progresses along the path of Christian perfection, striving to attain, with the support of God's grace, “the state of the perfect man, to the measure of the full maturity of Christ” (Eph 4:13).”

A pilgrim needs to be able to read the signs of the times around them, of the people with whom they live and journey with and of nature itself. A few years ago, a friend of mine gave me a basic introduction to astronomy and I still smile to myself when I can identify 'Orion's Belt' or 'The Big Dipper.' In today’s First Reading, God took Abraham outside for an astronomy lesson of another kind and said, “Now look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to count them. And He said to him, ‘So shall your descendants be.’ God had just promised Abraham a son. Why would looking at billions of stars help Abraham believe he would father a son? Look again at what happened. “Now look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to count them” … Then Abraham believed in the Lord.  When Abraham began to count the stars he was overcome by the glory of God. Who was this speaking to him? Nothing could be impossible to the creator of all this beauty. His heart believed in God, and God counted his faith as righteousness.

Gazing at stars has a somewhat romantic connotation attached to it. Whilst it is a beautiful experience it does makes you realize just how small you are and how big the universe is. Paradoxically, if it isn’t dark, we can’t see the stars. A few years ago, two of our sisters, Sr. M. Regina Cesarato (our previous Mother General) and Sr. M. Fiorella Schiermedori composed a hymn in occasion of the beatification of our Founder, Blessed James Alberione. The refrain goes like this: “ Guarda le stelle del cielo, Alberione uomo di Dio,conta i granelli di sabbia: così sarà, così sarà la tua Famiglia!Amen! Amen! Amen!.” 

Translated, it reads: Look at the stars of heaven, Alberione, man of God. Count the grains of sand, your family will be like this”. As numbers in religious life decrease in many parts, we are invited to trust that the Lord does not go back on his promises. We have to keep ‘stargazing’ and remembering that we are not the Creator, but the work of the Creator and He will keep creating. 

If we look at today’s Gospel, that of the Transfiguration, the disciples don’t want the experience to end, to an extent they want to keep looking at the stars. ‘Let us build three tents’ is their way of saying ‘let us stay here’. Often this happens when we have a wonderful experience that we just don’t want to end. When we reach the top of the mountain and all we want to do is bask in the view, drink in the scenery, feel our lungs pumping and the adrenaline rush. It is sitting with friends and feeling the presence of Christ in our midst. It is seeing the crystalline formation of snowflakes and marveling at how perfect they are. There is a deep desire within the human soul for beauty. However, the disciples desire to ‘remain’ on the mountain is also an attempt to escape the reality which awaits Jesus. He has already announced that his journey to Jerusalem will result in his death. Beauty and suffering are always hand in hand. 

At the top of the mountain is also the painful reality that we must descend. The beauty of truth also embraces offence, pain, and even the dark mystery of death, and that this can only be found in accepting suffering, not in ignoring it. The One who is the Beauty itself let himself be slapped in the face, spat upon, crowned with thorns; the Shroud of Turin can help us imagine this in a realistic way. However, in his Face that is so disfigured, there appears the genuine, extreme beauty: the beauty of love that goes "to the very end"; for this reason it is revealed as greater than falsehood and violence. This is Love Transfigured, it is the ‘beauty that saves the world’. 

Similarly our Transfiguration experience is in realising the transience of life and that our destination is Heaven, even though we resist in some many ways. It is in walking the journey with those who suffer, of being accompanied in attaining our personal transformation, that point where ‘I no longer live but Christ lives in me’. This is our goal, this is our destination. Often though we need to get away from the daily habits we have so as to find a different place to stand and observe ourselves in the world. Prayer times, retreats and other privileged moments of grace give us this opportunity. May you have time in your day to find some. 

18th February 2018 - Letting Lent be God's time

On this weeks programme we continue our reflections on the "joyous" season of Lent and the opportunities it presents to us to reconnect with ourselves, with the world around us and with God. We have our regular reflection on the Sunday gospel as well as our liturgical odds & ends.

You can listen to this weeks full programme HERE.

A Lenten Reflection - "Letting Lent be God's time"

Continuing our series of reflections on Lent, this week SS102fm Shane leads us in a reflection on how Lent presents us with the opportunity to rediscover or even to find the passion in our relationship with God with the encouragement that we throw open our hearts to God. But with the reminder that we should also let Lent be a time for God to work on us - not as another opportunity to set New Years resolutions but letting Lent be God's time.

You can listen to the reflection excerpted from this weeks programme HERE.




Gospel - Mark 1:12-15

And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. 

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

Reflections on this weeks Sunday gospel:

Word on Fire
Sunday Reflections
English Dominicans
Centre for Liturgy

Liturgical odds & ends

Liturgy of the Hours - Psalter week 1 - First Week of Lent

Saints of the Week

February 19th - Bl John Sullivan SJ
February 20th - St Jacinta Marto
February 21st - St Peter Damian
February 22nd - The Chair of St Peter
February 23rd - St Polycarp
February 24th - Bl Josefa Naval Girbes

Loyola Press - Arts & Faith: First Sunday of Lent - Limbourg brothers, “The Temptation of Christ,” between 1411 and 1416

14th February 2016 - Reflections on having a "good" Lent - 1st Sunday of Lent

On this weeks programme John, Ann, Martina and Michael reflect on Lent and Lenten resources as we start into the holy and joyous season of Lent! We have our regular reflection on the Sunday gospel as well as other odds & ends.

The podcast of this weeks programme is available HERE.

Reflections on having a "good" Lent





On this weeks programme, the SS102fm crew reflect on the challenges of Lent and discuss how we take Lent as a opportunity for changing things in our lives. The traditional focus of the church during Lent - prayer, fasting and alms giving - even though old are ever new and can speak to us in our time and place.

Reflections on Lent excerpted from the main programme and the podcast is here.

Gospel - Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'" Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Reflections on this weeks gospel:

• Word on Fire
• English Dominicans
• Centre for Liturgy
• Sunday Reflections

Liturgical odds & ends

Liturgy of the Hours - psalter week 1; 1st week of Lent

Saints of the Week (commemorations only during Lent)

February 15th - St. Claude de la Colombière
February 16th - Saint John III of Constantinople
February 17th - St Fintan
February 18th - Blessed Fra Angelico
February 19th - Martyrs of Palestine
February 20th - Blesseds Jacinta and Francisco Marto (the Seers of Fatima)

Notices

Things mentioned on this weeks programme:

1. Divine Mercy Conference 2016 - 19th - 21st February 2016
2. Church Services TV
3. EWTN Ireland

The Province of Joy - Lenten Series 2015 - The Meeting on the turret stairs - Burton

"The voice of my beloved! Look, he comes, leaping upon the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look, there he stands behind our wall, gazing in at the windows, looking through the lattice. My beloved speaks and says to me: "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away; for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." (Song of Solomon 2:8-13, NRSV).

A number of years ago RTE conducted a survey to find Ireland’s favourite painting and the result was “The meeting on the turret stairs” by Frederic William Burton which is one of the most popular paintings in the National Gallery despite the fact that because its rather delicate nature it is not actually on public display that often.

“This richly coloured watercolour painting depicts the ill-fated lovers Hellelil and Hildebrand, meeting on the stone stairway of a medieval tower. The princess and her bodyguard had fallen in love but her father regarded the young soldier as an unsuitable match for his daughter and ordered his sons to kill him. Burton was inspired by the story of the ill-fated lovers told in an old Danish ballad. The poem had been translated into English in 1855 by Whitley Stokes, a lawyer and philologist, and friend of the artist”[1].

“A careful reading of the ballad reveals an imagined early moment in the relationship when the couple meet fleetingly on the stairs, as Hildebrand passionately seizes Hellelil’s arm, embracing it and making the most of a brief encounter in a doomed affair. In the words of George Eliot, ‘The face of the knight is the face of a man to whom the kiss is a sacrament’. Burton creates an emotionally charged situation—by focusing attention on the knight’s intense embrace of the arm of his lady, who, taken by surprise, turns aside, having dropped her flowers, scattering the petals on the stair—symbolising the brevity of the affair and its destructive nature[2]”.

The painting probably appeals to the romantic element in our Celtic temperament; the ideal of giving all for love as the story of Hellelil and Hildebrand is after all a tragic romance – like Romeo and Juliet there is no happy ending for the two lovers. The idea of the star crossed lovers like Deirdre (of the Sorrows) and Naoise is a common theme in many stories from an Fhiannaíocht and an Rúraíocht.

The painting depicts a stolen moment; a kairos encounter; an encounter stolen outside the running tide of time as the lovers seek to mark their love for each other. A fleeting embrace as they pass each other by.

Love can be such a fleeting thing; but it is part of being human where we recognise that not being in love somehow makes us seem less human; after all the saying is that it is better to have loved and lost then not to have loved at all. Our relationships in life can be complex and not simple. But always they are moments of encounter and relationships of love can be even sacraments of encounter. “As we journey from the womb of the sea with our gaze of longing fixed on the stars, we have stopped off on this earth for a short spell of belonging”[3]. And sometimes the journey can be a “long and winding road” but “we are not asked to get it right, we are asked to be open, to keep the heart soft, and in this open space we discover the healing and stillness we long for. Maybe life is simply asking that we not anesthetise ourselves against the bigger questions, but with pilgrim hearts be always asking that which the poet Mary Oliver asks: ‘What is it you plan to do with your one, wild and precious life?’”[4]

Love is also the under lying theme of the scriptures. The stories, poetry, creation myths and historical recordings set out the journey of a people as they grow into a relationship with many side steps and tangents before its ultimate culmination and consummation in the empty tomb on Easter morning. And that idea of a love story is expressed in the Song of Songs or the Canticle of Canticles.

The Song of Songs is a book of the Old Testament which is regarded as part of the Wisdom literature. It is in unusual book in some ways with its earthy even erotic language of love and passion – recently I read of one commentator who described it as needing an R rating! In this book we hear the Shepherd and the Shulamite singing their love to each other, celebrating each other, praising each other, yearning for each other as much when they are together as when they are apart. It is the story of two lovers and their description of their love and passion for the other seen as an allegory for God’s love for the people of Israel.

As blogger Craig Adam’s notes[5]:

“....the books of Wisdom literature are life related. They speak to the here and now. They are reflections on life and how it is to be led. To the ancient Hebrews "wisdom" was the ability to live well. It was the ability to find happiness and fulfillment in life. We read in Ecclesiastes 3:12,13: "I know that there is nothing better for [people] than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil."

..... in the Song of Songs, we find ourselves in the ancient Jewish wedding festival. This is where these poems were originally read. They speak of the celebration of erotic love and of romantic longing. .......We should not be afraid of this part of ourselves. Calling it "evil" and suppressing it will not make it go away. Our sexuality is woven into the fabric of our being. The more we reject and suppress the sexual urge the more out-of-control it is likely to become.

And, it's not an evil thing to see beauty and wonder in another human being. Hey, it's a good thing! It's not evil if it causes us to see and value that person as a human being. Really, our capacity for this is too small. The truth is that we are created in the image of God — don't you know? — and, there is a beauty in everyone that we are not always capable of seeing. God sees us as handsome and beautiful and wonderful — oftentimes tragic, yes — but nonetheless as God's "very good" creation. God delights in us.

God calls us into a relationship through Jesus Christ. "Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away." Can you believe you are beloved, honored, valued?

Lent is a time for us to remind ourselves of that. Like the couple in the “Meeting on the turret stairs” God seeks to embrace us and often can only find those stolen moments of encounter. Lent provides us with an opportunity to reflect on that fact that “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him[6]”.  

As Pope Benedict XVI reminded us “these words...express with remarkable clarity the heart of the Christian faith: the Christian image of God and the resulting image of mankind and its destiny”[7]. It poses the question for us – can we claim John’s summary of the Christian life that “we have come to know and to believe in the love God has for us”? After all “[b]eing Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction”[8] expressed in communion and community. “In the Song of Songs love becomes a concern and care for the other.”No longer is it self-seeking, a sinking in the intoxication of happiness; instead it seeks the good of the beloved: it becomes renunciation and it is ready, and even willing, for sacrifice”[9].”

But where is our passion? Where is our drive and desire for love? Why is it that the Celtic temperament and drama of the Christian love story has been subdued within us? Where is the energy and the out pouring of desire?

We are almost afraid to recognise that “I am my beloved’s, his desire is for me. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the fields”[10]  Why do we not cry out and ask God to set “a seal upon [our] heart, as a seal upon [his] arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is cruel as the grave”[11]

Looking at the painting it almost seems to ask us can we make of our own the search for God, that “I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him....”[12]. But are we seeking, searching, asking, opening ourselves to that love? As Lent draws to a close and we enter into the sacred Triduum, we can ask ourselves do we allow that space for that sacrament of encounter so that we can say 

“My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready. I will sing, I will sing your praise. Awake my soul, awake lyre and harp, I will awake the dawn”[13].

---

[1] http://www.nationalgallery.ie/ga-IE/Collection/Irelands_Favourite_Painting/Burton.aspx accessed 26th March 2015

[2] http://www.historyireland.com/medieval-history-pre-1500/irelands-favourite-paintingthe-meeting-on-the-turret-stairs/  accessed 26^th March 2015

[3] John O’Donohue, The Four Elements – Reflections on Nature; Transworld Ireland, 2010; quote from the foreword by Pat O’Donohue

[4] Martina Lehane Sheehan, Seeing Anew – Awakening to Life’s Lessons; Veritas, 2012, pg 13

[5] http://www.craigladams.com/archive/files/reflections-song-of-solomon.html accessed 26th March 2015 

[6] 1 Jn 4:16

[7] Deus Caritas est, para 1

[8] Deus Caritas est, para 1

[9] Deus Caritas est, para 6

[10] Song of Songs 7:10

[11] Song of Songs 8:6

[12] Song of Songs 2:

[13] Psalm 56

The Province of Joy - Lenten Series 2015 - Rainbows over Victoria Falls

Victoria Falls, Zambia, July 2013

Contributor: Melanie Sullivan

The photo I have chosen for the Lent reflection is not a famous one nor is it the work of a famous photographer. The photo was taken by me in 2013 when I was lucky enough to take a holiday at Victoria Falls with my parents. It is a simple picture, snapped with a simple camera by someone whose simple Christian faith has sustained and shaped her through the ups and downs experienced so far in life. It is my favourite photo of nature as rainbows are my constant reminder that after dark days, good times will follow, although like the rainbow these can be elusive and we have to search. 

How does the rainbow fit with a Lent reflection? After 40 days of flooding in Genesis, the waters take time to recede and when Noah, his family and the creatures of the earth finally the ark, God promises he will never again send a flood to destroy the earth. The beautiful rainbow, usually hidden by the clouds, is the sign God gives to Noah of this promise. It is our constant reminder of God’s love.

Lent is the time we prepare for Christ’s death on Good Friday. We remember Christ’s 40 days in the desert when he prepared himself for the death he knew he was born to accept.  These are dark days, like rainy days when we can’t see the sunshine, even though we know the sun rises every day.  During Lent many choose to give up their favourite food or drink, TV programmes, or all sorts of other things they enjoy to help them experience the darkness, the loneliness, the metaphorical rain that Christ felt in the desert. On Easter Sunday they are released from this darkness, see sunshine and the accompanying rainbow as their favourite treat is restored to them. 

The darkest day of Lent is Good Friday when the Mary and the disciples watched Christ willing die on the cross. What is it like to give up your life for others?  The best sermon I heard about the Passion asked us to image the pain that Christ would have experienced. How do you lie on a cross, already in agony from being whipped and beaten, as nails are forced into your hands and feet? The pain must be indescribable, intolerable and yet this is exactly what Christ did for us. Amazing!  How do you watch a close friend or a child die? How do you bear that grief? Coming to terms with the death of a loved one is a very dark time and when I have needed God to carry me. What Mary and the disciples did not know on Good Friday was that Christ would rise again on Easter Sunday, the day they would see the metaphorical rainbow. This promise of resurrection is what has sustained me through dark times.

Dolly Parton, well known for her Christian faith as well as her singing, is credited with saying “if you want the rainbows you gotta put up with the rain”. I couldn’t agree more. Without the rainy days of Lent we would never have the rainbow on Easter Sunday when we receive the gift of our risen Lord.   

The Province of Joy series - Lenten Reflections 2015 - The Angelus - Millet

Jean-François Millet (1814-1875) - The Angelus
Between 1857 and 1859 (Musée d'Orsay)

Background to the painting:

A man and a woman are reciting the Angelus, a prayer which commemorates the annunciation made to Mary by the angel Gabriel. They have stopped digging potatoes and all the tools used for this task – the potato fork, the basket, the sacks and the wheelbarrow – are strewn around them. In 1865, Millet said: "The idea for The Angelus came to me because I remembered that my grandmother, hearing the church bell ringing while we were working in the fields, always made us stop work to say the Angelus prayer for the poor departed". So it was a childhood memory which was behind the painting and not the desire to glorify some religious feeling; besides Millet was not a church-goer. He wanted to catch the immutable rhythms of peasant life in a simple scene. Here he has focused on a short break, a moment of respite.

Alone in the foreground in a huge empty plain, the two peasants take on a monumental quality, despite the small size of the canvas. Their faces are left in shadow, while the light underlines their gestures and posture. The canvas expresses a deep feeling of meditation and Millet goes beyond the anecdote to the archetype.

Perhaps that explains the extraordinary destiny ofThe Angelus: it triggered an unbelievable rush of patriotic fervour when the Louvre tried to buy it in 1889, was venerated by Salvador Dali, lacerated by a madman in 1932 and became a world-famous icon in the 20th century.

Reflection by Mary Keating:

Millet's 'The Angelus' is a painting which literally always stops me in my tracks. It reminds me of the importance of taking the time in the midst of the busyness of every day life to turn to GOD in humility, dependency and thanksgiving. It reminds me that The WORD was made flesh and lived {and continues to live} amongst us. 

AWESOME and something that needs moments of stopping in my tracks to ponder on. I always try to remember to stop and say the Angelus and think about the words I'm saying. 

During LENT I hope to be better at doing this and have the courage to invite people who are in  my company at Angelus time to join me in the silence or in the words.

The Province of Joy - Lenten Reflections 2015 - Ripples in the Rock Pool

Lent – forever and in this present moment

Noirin Lynch 

Ripples in the rock pools, ripples in the sea
Ripples in the sand dunes rolling into Connemara

(Shaun Davey)

The Irish coastline fascinates me, especially the rocky beaches that I love to clamber over and around.  Looking at the Atlantic is an experience of enormity, power and vastness. Gazing into a tiny rock pool is to know that all the beauty and hope of life is contained in the smallest drop, in this present moment.

In the Lenten Gospels Jesus steps away from the noise and excitement of the Jordan and into a barren place, a place he can be still and pray. All the old temptations follow him, all the dramas, all the false promises … if God really loved you, you’d never go hungry. If God really cared, there would be no suffering. You’ve trusted the wrong person in trusting God …

In this place-apart, the noises were louder and more insistent … and yet precisely because of this Jesus sees clearly and responds to them. No I won’t be bought be today’s bread, some things are more important. No, it doesn’t need to be easy to be good – some things are more important than safety. Yes, I place my trust in God and I don’t need any more than that.

Some days I feel like I am being run by the noises in my head, the noises of the city, of work, of expectations. I find myself on a treadmill of busy-ness, stressed and smiling. Then I know I need to go to my desert place. I need the rocky places and the sea.

So I step out of the busy-ness and into the calm. At first when I arrive I am restless. I wander and clamber and take photos and remember a phone call I meant to make. No signal. Hmmm, maybe that’s a sign. I try and slow down again, but my heads still busy. I clamber some more, find a perch or a hollow and sit for a moment. The voices are louder now that I’m still .., or maybe there’s just no other noise distracting me. ‘you’ve loads to do, go home’. ‘it’s bound to rain, go find a hat’, ‘maybe there’s a signal here for that phone call’. …

…. I look out at the sea.  The mighty Atlantic and her waves.  I breathe in the salt air and there is nothing to do but breathe in and out with the beautiful pounding waves as the prance and dance around the mighty stones. ‘God, but you’re great really. Really great. It’s all so perfect. There is nothing to do but be here with you and breathe’.

And then I realise that the noises that run me are silent. Like the wind took them away – only it didn’t. I just let myself be present in the present and all the future stuff wasn’t important any more. Not for this moment at least.

Green, blue, yellow and red-

God is down in the swamps and marshes

Sensational as April and almost incredible

the flowering of our catharsis.

A humble scene in a backward place

Where no one important ever looked

The raving flowers looked up in the face

Of the One and the Endless, the Mind that has baulked

The profoundest of mortals. A primrose, a violet,

A violent wild iris- but mostly anonymous performers

Yet an important occasion as the Muse at her toilet

Prepared to inform the local farmers

That beautiful, beautiful, beautiful God

Was breathing His love by a cut-away bog.

Patrick Kavanagh  (from Selected Poems, Penguin books, 1996.)

For me, Lent has long not been about what type of sweets I give up. Lent has been the insistent heartbeat of hope … remember you are dust, and into dust you shall return … remember who you really are … remember all this busy-ness is just noise … remember …. renew … repent … release …

Lent for me is ‘Beautiful, beautiful beautiful God, … breathing his love into this over-diary-ed fog’. (with apologies to Kavanagh!).  It is my moment of redemption when I remember that I want to be more than my diary or my plans. It is my space for letting go and recognising how beautifully I am held in the Fathers hand, how perfect this life really is and can be. Lent often begins at the sea and in a rock pool – and it is always in the present moment, with the ever present God - ‘I Am’.

Truly dust we are, and to dust we shall return;

and truly yours we are, and to you we shall return.

Help this to be a time of turning round and beginning again.

A Time of Turning Round  -  written by Jan Sutch Pickard, in Traveling to Easter with Jesus as our Guide, Patmos Abbey—The Order of Saint Columba.http://www.patmosabbey.org/ http://re-worship.blogspot.ie/2012/02/lent-prayer-time-for-turning-round.html

The Province of Joy series - Lenten Reflections 2015 - The Other Mary Remembers: Meditating on Mary Magdalen and the Impact Jesus had on her Life

The evenings are the best time for me - this is when I sit and remember,

those treasured moments that formed such a part of my life

that made me the woman I am now.

They dance and flicker in my mind,

just like the oil lamps that bless my evenings with warmth and light

a gentle and kindly light that plays upon the stone walls,

sometimes gold, sometimes ruby, making friends with the darkness

and fill the air with the fragrance of a sweet oil, heavy with memories.

This home, this dwelling, so loved by him,

blessed and warmed with his presence,

a place where he found friends, kindness, care, and a tenderness

that touched his heart and stung his eyes with tears.

His love is for every woman,

for every man, for all living beings,

children, animals, beasts and birds,

freely given, poured out, filled to overflowing,

a love that pierces the heart with delight,

and leaves a wound

that only love can heal,

and wound again and heal.

Gently waiting in the shadows,

another memory requests an audience,

and asks to be invited and held for a moment.

A dusty place, a dry and barren earth

where stones abound.

And dark figures and pointed limbs quietly steal away,

while a figure stoops and writes upon the earth,

and as the tiny dust clouds settle they dance and catch the sun.

And as the tears flow, a heart is cleansed and flooded with new life,

and the gaze is so tender and filled with compassion,

a compassion so deep that it wounds once more

and heals and wounds and heals.

At times, I love to run my fingers through my hair

those tresses that he loved and touched and stroked,

and it was all so natural and right,

yes, he gave me dignity, and he needed me, he needs me.

The alabaster vase is placed gently in the little nook,

a remnant of the linen cloth carefully folded,

one a sign of his life, the other a gesture of my love

a love that was too deep to be poured out,

a love that was too tender to bear, and still it wounds and heals and wounds.

They still come to my home, this dwelling that he loved,

and this is my delight,  they too love him,

they want to hold the vase, to touch the cloth, to treasure the memory.

“What was it like?” they asked, “do you remember how you felt?”

“What did he say to you?”

And time and time again, as I share this blessed story,

I taste once more the tears,

the pain, the delight, the love, the pleasure that was mine

that flooded my heart at the sound of my name,

and knew at that moment that I had found him

whom my soul had been seeking,

that he had found me.

And when I stop and listen, I still hear his voice,

a voice as gentle as the breeze,

a breath of stillness,

so softly, gently, as he says

“Come with me, my love,

for winter is passed,

the rain is over and gone,

the flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come”.

Kathryn Williams pddm

- A reflection by Sr Kathryn on Mary Magdalene

The Province of Joy - Lenten reflections 2015 - "The Snail" by Matisse

"The Snail" - Matisse - 1953 - Tate Gallery London UK

Contributor: Bishop Brendan Leahy

A painting entitled “The Snail” by the French artist, Henri Matisse, hangs in the Tate Modern Art museum in London. Its large size of three metres square and its dramatic colours really struck me when I first saw it hanging there during a visit some years ago.

In a sense, the painting is simple. Using the seven primary colours Matisse has arranged the painting around geometric blocks on a white background. These blocks form a loose spiral suggesting the shape of a snail’s shell.

The painting is famous for many reasons. It has been described as a kind of drawing with scissors. It seems that when he painted this painting, Matisse was unwell and possibly dying. Though confined to bed he provided instructions to his assistants. He got them to cut or tear shapes from paper that had been painted with one of the primary colours. Then, under his precise instructions, these pieces of paper were placed on the white background and pasted down by an assistant. The overall effect was that the blocks of colour appear to float, as though always in motion. It was a painting that suggested a movement, an unfolding.

The artistic guide who was leading the group I was part of on a tour of the gallery pointed out to us that Matisse had also instructed that a piece of black be placed within the arrangement. By the canons of art, this shouldn’t work (black shouldn’t be included in the middle of primary colours) and yet, somehow, it seems to work in this case. Perhaps, suggested the guide, the sick and dying Matisse wanted to convey something about mortality, time passing and the “black” (of illness and of death) fitting in?

Lent is a time when we concentrate on our spiritual journey. We need this time every year to reflect on our lives because the life of each of us is passing. Evening comes quickly. I think Matisse’s painting expresses the fact that so many aspects of life are constantly in movement – family and friends, goals and deadlines, dreams and hopes.

Yes, there are many dimensions to our life, but perhaps what the painting also wants to say to us is that as time passes, let’s face up to the “negative” that we often feel tempted to deny or simply lament – our limits and failures, our sins and suffering. As we look at the black in Matisse’s painting and see that it somehow “fits in”, perhaps we can hear again the invitation to “take up our Cross”.

The Cross is unique for each of us. Suffering grazes everyone in life in a different way. For those with Christian faith, what matters is that we name the suffering and recognise that we can transform it by uniting our suffering to that of Jesus Christ in his dying and resurrection. As St. Paul so often repeated, our suffering, if lived in Christ, can be a source of life for others. Lent can be a time for discovering more profoundly, how the “black” can fit in. “It is when I am weak I am strong”.