For Good Friday 2018

Crucifix by Giotto
Crucifix by Giotto

Good Friday is one of those days when I take refuge in poetry or look at a crucifix and feel stupid and dull, unable to get my mind round the sacrifice Jesus made. Above all, I seek the bare, stark forms of the liturgy because everything else seems too small, often too ‘pious’, for the hugeness of what we celebrate.

The liturgy is objective in a way that forces us to consider the Crucifixion anew every year. Our understanding is stretched almost to breaking-point. The liturgy’s quiet dramas and haunting music, the return  to forms of worship familiar to the early Church, help us cope with the vastness of the story it tells and the inadequacy of our response. The death of Jesus on the Cross has changed everything. What can we possibly say after that?

The Preces of the Solemn Liturgy gather into a sequence of ten prayers our needs and the needs of the whole world. They articulate what we cannot. So, today, let us pray as the whole Church prays: for holy Church; for the Pope; for all orders and degrees of the faithful (i.e. bishops, priests, deacons and laypeople); for catechumens (i.e. those under instruction before becoming Christians); for the unity of Christians; for the Jewish people; for those who do not believe in Christ; for those who do not believe in God; for those in public office; for those in tribulation (i.e. asking God to cleanse the world of error, banish disease, drive out hunger, free the imprisoned, loosen fetters, grant safety to travellers and return to pilgrims, give health to the sick and grant salvation to the dying.) AMEN.

Note
There are several earlier posts that treat other aspects of Good Friday. Please do a search in the sidebar if interested.

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St Cecilia’s Day 2013

St Cecilia’s Day usually leads to reflections on music and musicians. Indeed, on a former occasion, I tagged onto the feast a few thoughts about music and community life:

I think it’s no accident that the concept of ‘heavenly harmony’ and the ‘music of the spheres’ runs so deeply through Western culture and civilization. For instance, I often use the image of playing a string quartet to describe the dynamic of community living. Each brings to the whole an individual talent, but through intense listening to each other, periods of silence as well as playing, something greater and more beautiful is produced than one alone could achieve.

So today, when we thank God for the joy and beauty that music and musicians bring to our lives and to the liturgy of the Church, we might also spend a few moments thinking about something less abstract: the way in which we ourselves contribute to the music of the universe. We may be only ‘average choir fodder’ but we each have something worth giving. (See post for this day 2011).

I stand by every word, but from a liturgical point of view, St Cecilia is celebrated chiefly for her virginity and her martyrdom. Neither is a particularly popular concept, but Christianity has never been about popularity, so perhaps we should spend a moment or two thinking about them and try to ignore the cheapening of words and ideas that marks Western culture today.

For a Christian, martyrdom is bearing the ultimate witness to Christ, giving one’s life-blood. To be a martyr, one mustn’t court death but must accept it as the price of fidelity. The grace of martyrdom isn’t one we can presume upon. It is a harsh grace, unpalatable, contradictory, and none of us knows whether we would have the courage to accept it, should the moment ever come. Cecilia was young in years but old in virtue when she died. We, by contrast, may be old in years and still infants in virtue, but it is never too late to try to cultivate a habit of fidelity, of readiness. That is to accept the seriousness of our faith and its implications for both life and death.

Virginity is another of those things many Christians are uncomfortable with. We are much readier to talk about marriage and family, yet the Church has always honoured virginity freely chosen out of love for God. St Augustine wisely remarks that ‘the whole Church is virginal by virtue of the integrity of her faith, hope and love’ while the beautiful Prayer of Consecration attributed to St Leo carefully insists that ‘the dignity of marriage is not lessened’ even as it becomes lyrical in its enunciation of the theology of virginity. One of the impoverishments of the Church today — and perhaps of society, too — is that the theology of virginity, so clearly linked to our understanding of the nature of the Church, has been almost totally eclipsed by our contemporary obsession with sex.

On St Cecilia’s Day, let’s listen to some good music; give thanks for the beauty of sound and silence; pray for the deaf, for whom music is an abstract concept, never to be enjoyed as we who have hearing can enjoy it; and spend a few moments thinking about the paradox that death is a gateway into life, and virginity fruitful in ways most never dream.

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Happiness and Gratitude

I used to think that happy people were grateful people, but I’ve come to realise it’s the other way round. Grateful people are happy people. One sees this in the monastery. We spend much of our time thanking and praising God — not for any particular thing, but simply because he IS God. That is why visitors often remark on what wonderfully happy people monks and nuns are. We’re grateful, and it shows. (Conversely, the ungrateful monk or nun is a real pain, both to self and community; but that’s another matter.)

Today our friends in the U.S.A. are celebrating Thanksgiving. We join with them in thanking God for the many blessings he has bestowed on them and through them and pray that they may never lose their sense of gratitude for all the gifts they have received. Today is also the feast of St Cecilia, so we thank God for the gift of music and the way in which it enhances our lives and our worship. We give thanks for the ceasefire between Gaza and Israel; we give thanks for another day to be lived in the presence of God and his angels; we give thanks that we CAN give thanks in any and all circumstances (the triumph of grace over nature). If only we had the eyes to see the huge smile that spreads across the face of the universe when we give thanks, we might try being grateful more often.

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Of Music and Musicians

The feast of St Cecilia is a good day on which to think about music and musicians. Let me say straight away that I am very average choir fodder. Indeed, when being taught to sing plainchant, I so exasperated my teacher that she exclaimed, ‘It’s just a matter of intelligence!’ Whereupon, to my eternal discredit, I did an off-the-cuff translation of one of the trickier hymns in the Hymnale. Pride 1; humility nil.

Inability to sing or play should not be confused with the ability to enjoy. There are very few who do not enjoy music, although we certainly don’t all enjoy the same music. I think it’s no accident that the concept of ‘heavenly harmony’ and the ‘music of the spheres’ runs so deeply through western culture and civilization. For instance, I often use the image of playing a string quartet to describe the dynamic of community living. Each brings to the whole an individual talent, but through intense listening to each other, periods of silence as well as playing, something greater and more beautiful is produced than one alone could achieve.

So today, when we thank God for the joy and beauty that music and musicians bring to our lives and to the liturgy of the Church, we might also spend a few moments thinking about something less abstract: the way in which we ourselves contribute to the music of the universe. We may be only ‘average choir fodder’ but we each have something worth giving.

Fundraising Update
We’ll be issuing a statement later today after we have met with our advisers. We’ll tweet when it’s up.

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Holy Ringtones and Online Debate

The mobile phone I use has its ringtone changed according to the liturgical season. At the moment, I am summoned to answer by a plainsong setting of the Regina Caeli. I find this makes answering the phone less of a chore and it reminds me that everything I do ought to be done in the context of prayer. (It is quite difficult to snarl when you have been mentally singing along, Regina Caeli, laetare, alleluia, you try it!) I think we should add a page of ‘holy ringtones’ to our web site; so if you come across any podsafe music, i.e. that may legally and freely be converted into a ringtone, please let me know and I’ll see what we can do.

In the meantime, I have been thinking a lot about how we should conduct ourselves online and commend this article to you by Matthew Warner. He has sensible things to say about how we should comment online. I’m all for debate but do sometimes feel uncomfortable when the argument turns ad hominem. Happily, that has never (yet) happened here. It is up to us to ensure that the blogosphere is a good place to be, isn’t it? I wonder if we could incorporate something like a ‘holy ringtone’ to sound BEFORE we push the submit button?!

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Calm of Mind

The parish Mass this morning began with “Shine, Jesus, shine” which, as some of you know, is the community’s least favorite hymn. Yesterday’s bookcase-building plans had to be laid aside, and there followed a sleepless night for Digitalnun, so possibly not all was interior sweetness and light. In such situations there’s nothing for it but to let one’s distractions roam over what one has to be grateful for.

So, in no particular order, this is what I gave thanks for earlier today: the grey light over the church; the faith of those who gathered there; the jackdaw strutting over the lawn; the bulbs piercing their way through the dark earth; the smell of coffee; Duncan’s comical nose; the beauty of a new book; someone near me absolutely pitch-perfect (even in “Shine”!); the quietness of the monastery; the fact that I can see, hear and walk; the gift of community.

Isn’t it absurd to waste time and energy disliking a hymn when the beauty and holiness of God is everywhere? Praise him.

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Bible or Mozart?

Yesterday Digitalnun was having some free time to mark the last day of the “Christmas holidays” and decided to listen to the radio while tidying her desk. Alas, the BBC offered two equally delectable choices: King James or Mozart. (Overseas readers may be mystified: the BBC has been playing “every note Mozart ever wrote” on Radio 3, while over on Radio 4 there was a celebration of the King James version of the Bible, with copious readings by gorgeous voices.) It was a struggle but Mozart won. Digitalnun has some way to go, I fear.

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