Mary: "a sister to all the children of Adam as they journey toward the fulness of freedom"

Celebrating the solemnity of Our Lady’s Assumption yesterday, we were reminded of our ultimate destiny, for the prayers emphasise Mary’s sharing in the totality of her Son’s resurrection victory as the end to which the Church also “in her foreshadowed” makes her journey through time and space.  

   

OUR EXILE

And if that is true of the Church, it is also true for us as individual Christians. In “Ye who own the Faith of Jesus . . .” (from which I have already quoted) the second last verse speaks of those for whom we seek Our Lady’s prayers:

   

For the sick and for the agéd,

For our dear ones far away,

For the hearts that mourn in secret,

All who need our prayers today,

For the faithful gone before us,

May the holy Virgin pray.

   

Did you notice “. . . For the hearts that mourn in secret”? I’m always deeply moved at that point in Canon Coles’ hymn, for it makes me think of Christian brothers and sisters I have had the privilege of knowing who have quietly embraced the suffering and pain of their lives and relationships - in some instances extraordinary suffering and pain - and, rather than retaliating or taking it out on everyone around them, have become “the hearts that mourn in secret.” From a place of real spiritual and emotional strength (that they often didn't think they had!) they have been content to offer themselves and their experience to the Father in union with the suffering of Jesus so that it at least becomes redemptive for the sake of others, while they themselves are strengthened at the foot of the Cross by the presence with them of the Mother of Sorrows.

   

Sometimes there is a trusted friend or spiritual director who will understand. But sometimes there is no-one. We “mourn in secret” perhaps even crying ourselves to sleep at night in a kind of loneliness that feels like spiritual exile. It is especially in those moments that we are grateful for the loving embrace of our Lady Mary, Mother of Jesus and Mother of all his people. It is out of that experience that generations of Christians have regularly prayed the Salve Regina at the end of the Rosary:

   

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy;

hail, our life, our sweetness, and our hope.

To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve;

to thee do we send up our sighs,

mourning and weeping in this vale of tears.

Turn then, most gracious advocate,

thine eyes of mercy towards us;

and after this our exile,

show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

   

Even if some of us have been spared those particular depths of personal suffering, it is sadly true that living the full Catholic life within Anglican structures is more and more difficult. The sense that we are called to do so, at the same time bearing joyful witness to the Faith once delivered to the Saints, causes us to suffer very deeply the sense of being exiles within our own Church. 

   

But it is now becoming clear that the rapid changes in our western European culture that in most places has deliberately decided to “move on” from its Judaeo-Christian foundations, pose equally great challenges for ALL Churches of every tradition. We are still called to bear witness to the Good News of Jesus, whatever the cost - and in the short to medium term future, the cost may be very great indeed, as Pope Benedict XVI has suggested in his writings.

   

RAISED UP TO BEAR WITNESS 

In this context, a very small proportion of Anglicans, with hearts on fire with love for Jesus, holding on to the full Catholic Faith may seem a fairly impotent and thinly spread community as far as the big picture is concerned. But, as St Paul wrote, 

“God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong, God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption.” 

(1 Corinthians 1:27-30)

   

It is my belief that God has raised us up in our particular contexts to keep alive aspects of the Faith that might otherwise disappear from notice. In the aftermath of celebrating Our Lady’s Assumption let us rededicate ourselves to that vocation.

   

In the Book of Masses of Our Lady, there is the most wonderful Preface for the Mass of Our Lady, Mother of Divine Hope. Since its publication, many years ago, it has been one of my favourite prayers (especially in this particular translation). I share it with you as an encouragement to be faithful to the Lord in joy and in sorrow, and to be those who journey through this world with our eyes raised to Mary, our “sister in Christ”, the “Mother of all her Son’s people”, “the fairest fruit of Christ’s redeeming love” who continues to pray for us as we make our pilgrimage to the fulness of heaven’s glory where we, with her, will share the completeness of her Son’s victory over sin and death:

   

It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation,

to give you thanks with all our hearts,

Lord, holy Father,

for your gift to our human family

of Jesus Christ, the author of our salvation,

and of Mary, his Mother, the model of divine hope.

   

Your lowly handmaid placed all her trust in you:

she awaited in hope and conceived in faith 

the Son of Man, whom the prophets had foretold.

   

With untiring love she gave herself to his service

and became the Mother of all the living.

Mary, the fairest fruit of Christ’s redeeming love,

is a sister to all the children of Adam

as they journey toward the fullness of freedom

and raise their eyes to her,

the sign of sure hope and comfort,

until the day of the Lord dawns in glory.

The rejection of ministry

Ezekiel 2:2-5;  2 Corinthians 12:7-10;  Mark 6:1-6

Would you like to have been Ezekiel? 

He was given a wonderful vision of the glory of God, but he must have really felt let-down when the same God gave him an unpleasant, nearly impossible ministry, which is we read about in today’s first reading.

He was to tell his own people that because they were unfaithful to the Lord, their beloved temple in Jerusalem would be destroyed. I guess the people could hardly be blamed for not being receptive! Poor old Ezekiel! He knew the hardness of their hearts, yet the Lord asked him to speak the truth in love and concern for them. And he paid dearly for this.

Afterwards, of course, Ezekiel’s words would be remembered, and they would help those who returned to Jerusalem to understand what had happened.

The great apostle Paul was called to proclaim the Gospel from the time of his conversion to Christ. Today’s second reading is part of what he wrote to the church community he had founded in Corinth. That group was in a real mess in so many areas of life. To cap things off, a number of false apostles and prophets were challenging Paul’s authority, boasting about their superior revelations, their powerful preaching, and the miracles they performed. Many of the people were influenced by them, and there was a serious fracturing of  the unity of the Body of Christ in that place.

For the sake of the Corinthian Christians Paul decides to defend himself and his apostolic ministry. But rather than meeting his opponents on their ground, or - for that matter - despairing of the situation, he speaks from a position of real humility. He says that all he can do is boast of his weaknesses, knowing that God would give him supernatural grace to be strong.

What does this mean? Some commentators think that the “thorn in the flesh” Paul struggled with throughout his ministry was a sense of rejection, perhaps even reflecting the reluctance of the earliest Christians to believe that his conversion was real. Be that as it may, in this passage he manages to regard real rejection as a "gift" to keep him aware of his weakness, to keep him relying not on any cleverness, oratory, ability he might have as a speaker or even as a miracle worker, but only on Jesus whose grace, “is sufficient.” In his weakness Paul has learned to depend only on the strength given him by the Lord. And that’s as it should be, because for Paul - as for us - the ministry is not about him but about Jesus!

In today’s Gospel, Jesus returns to his home town, Nazareth. The people begin by being amazed at his teaching, but then become suspicious: how could such wisdom and power come from this “nobody” we grew up with?

It says that they “took offence at him,” and rejected his ministry.

Have you ever noticed that one of the themes running through Mark’s Gospel is the rejection of Jesus’ ministry? Indeed, Mark’s Gospel, in this respect, might well be a commentary on Isaiah 53:3: “He was despised and rejected by men.”

Jesus yearned to do for his people what they could not do for themselves. He wanted to make their lives worth living, to touch them with his love and healing. He wanted to get them to heaven, and get heaven into them! His cry is at its most poignant in Matthew 23:37:  “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not!” 

All who try to bear witness to Jesus in day to day life will experience the pain of rejection. Sometimes it is our fault for not being loving enough to those around us, or for being judgmental towards them. But sometimes it is for the same reason that Jesus himself was rejected . . . that people just don't want to be reminded of their desperate need for God and his love.

This is also experienced by church communities as a whole at different times and in different places. But, like Ezekiel, like Paul, and like Jesus himself, we are called to glorify the Father by being faithful, even when we don't succeed.   

Pope Francis: "Who am I, before the sufferings of my Lord?”

After a very busy few days, including the journey to and from Walsingham with parishioners for the National Pilgrimage, it was time last night to catch up properly on the visit of Pope Francis to the Holy Land. Much has been and will be written about the Roman Catholic/ Orthodox journey to unity, and, indeed, the implications of this for other Christians. Likewise political issues and the attempts of the Holy Father to encourage men and women of all backgrounds and political persuasions to work for peace.

For me, personally, the greatest challenge among the reports I read last night, was the talk Pope Francis gave two days ago (Monday 26th May) to priests, religious and seminarians, in the Church of All Nations in Gethsemane. 

There are times in our lives, in our personal circumstances, and even (or especially) in the stream of the Church we have been called to serve, when we are reduced to something like the condition of those closest to Jesus in Gethsemane. Undoubtedly for Anglican Catholics this is one such time. So I share with you from Vatican Radio (go HERE to their website) the words of Pope Francis:

“He came out and went . . . to the Mount of Olives; and the disciples followed him” (Luke 22:39).

At the hour which God had appointed to save humanity from its enslavement to sin, Jesus came here, to Gethsemane, to the foot of the Mount of Olives. We now find ourselves in this holy place, a place sanctified by the prayer of Jesus, by his agony, by his sweating of blood, and above all by his “yes” to the loving will of the Father. We dread in some sense to approach what Jesus went through at that hour; we tread softly as we enter that inner space where the destiny of the world was decided.

In that hour, Jesus felt the need to pray and to have with him his disciples, his friends, those who had followed him and shared most closely in his mission. But here, at Gethsemane, following him became difficult and uncertain; they were overcome by doubt, weariness and fright. As the events of Jesus’ passion rapidly unfolded, the disciples would adopt different attitudes before the Master: attitudes of closeness, distance, hesitation.

Here, in this place, each of us – bishops, priests, consecrated persons, and seminarians – might do well to ask: Who am I, before the sufferings of my Lord?

Am I among those who, when Jesus asks them to keep watch with him, fall asleep instead, and rather than praying, seek to escape, refusing to face reality?

Or do I see myself in those who fled out of fear, who abandoned the Master at the most tragic hour in his earthly life?

Is there perhaps duplicity in me, like that of the one who sold our Lord for thirty pieces of silver, who was once called Jesus’ “friend”, and yet ended up by betraying him?

Do I see myself in those who drew back and denied him, like Peter? Shortly before, he had promised Jesus that he would follow him even unto death (cf. Luke 22:33); but then, put to the test and assailed by fear, he swore he did not know him.

Am I like those who began planning to go about their lives without him, like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, foolish and slow of heart to believe the words of the prophets (cf. Luke 24:25)?

Or, thanks be to God, do I find myself among those who remained faithful to the end, like the Virgin Mary and the Apostle John? On Golgotha, when everything seemed bleak and all hope seemed pointless, only love proved stronger than death. The love of the Mother and the beloved disciple made them stay at the foot of the Cross, sharing in the pain of Jesus, to the very end.

Do I recognize myself in those who imitated their Master to the point of martyrdom, testifying that he was everything to them, the incomparable strength sustaining their mission and the ultimate horizon of their lives?

Jesus’ friendship with us, his faithfulness and his mercy, are a priceless gift which encourages us to follow him trustingly, notwithstanding our failures, our mistakes, also our betrayals.

But the Lord’s goodness does not dispense us from the need for vigilance before the Tempter, before sin, before the evil and the betrayal which can enter even into the religious and priestly life.  We are all exposed to sin, to evil, to betrayal. We are fully conscious of the disproportion between the grandeur of God’s call and of own littleness, between the sublimity of the mission and the reality of our human weakness. Yet the Lord in his great goodness and his infinite mercy always takes us by the hand lest we drown in the sea of our fears and anxieties. He is ever at our side, he never abandons us. And so, let us not be overwhelmed by fear or disheartened, but with courage and confidence let us press forward in our journey and in our mission.

You, dear brothers and sisters, are called to follow the Lord with joy in this holy land! It is a gift and also a responsibility. Your presence here is extremely important; the whole Church is grateful to you and she sustains you by her prayers. From this holy place, I wish to extend my heartfelt greetings to all Christians in Jerusalem: I would like to assure them that I remember them affectionately and that I pray for them, being well aware of the difficulties they experience in this city. I urge them to be courageous witnesses of the passion of the Lord but also of his resurrection, with joy and hope.

Let us imitate the Virgin Mary and Saint John, and stand by all those crosses where Jesus continues to be crucified. This is how the Lord calls us to follow him: this is the path, there is no other!

“Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also” (John 12:26).

  

Worship in the ruins

A friend emailed this amazing picture to me a few years ago. It shows High Mass being celebrated (apparently) in Germany during World War II. (Is there a reader out there who knows precisely where this is?) The church building had been bombed, but Jesus was still able to offer his sacrifice of love to the Father in that place because of the faithfulness of the people. 

At a different level, the picture never ceases to move my heart, because it more or less expresses how we experience Church today, and what it feels like to be a priest. Through our shortcomings and sinfulness, and as a result of the the liberal revisionists' calculated policies, the Church is a ruin as real as the one in the picture.  

The determination that, in spite of our pain and tears, the Gospel should be preached and lived, the people lovingly cared for, and the Lord worshipped in the beauty of holiness (and the holiness of beauty, if it can be managed!) are signs of the working of the Holy Spirit and manifestations of real faithfulness. 

Worship goes on today, not because we always feel like it, but because the Lord is worthy of glory and honour (Rev. 4:11), even in the midst of squalor and defeat. It is from where we are and not from where we would like to be that Jesus lovingly continues to sweep us up into his self-offering to the Father, sanctifying and blessing our little corner of the mess.

And HE has the last word!

Two Letters of St Clare

The Church of San Damiano, 

where St Francis heard the voice of Jesus say to him, "rebuild my Church." 

It is also where St Clare died on August 11, 1253.

A LETTER OF St CLARE TO BLESSED AGNES OF PRAGUE 

Agnes, previously a wealthy woman, was Abbess of the community of Poor Clares in Prague. Though she and Clare never met, a close friendship developed and was maintained through their correspondence for over twenty years. 

Fortunate indeed is she who shares in the sacred banquet and clings with all her heart to him whom the hosts of heaven constantly adore! Contemplation of him refreshes her; his kindness and sweetness fill her being. "He is the splendour of eternal light, a mirror without blemish." Look daily into that spotless mirror, dear queen and spouse of Christ, and see your face in it. See how you are to adorn yourself, within and without, in all the blossoms of virtue, as befits a chaste daughter and spouse of that greatest of kings. In that mirror poverty, humility, and love beyond telling shine radiantly. 

Contemplate the beginning therein mirrored - the poverty of him who lay in the manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes. What marvelous humility and astonishing poverty! It is the King of angels, the Lord of heaven and earth, who lies here! Contemplate next the course of his life, with its humility in the form of blessed poverty, endless toil, and torments to be endured for the redemption of humankind. Contemplate, finally, the boundless love that marks the end of that life, when love made him suffer and die on the Cross. The mirror cries out to us: "All you who pass along the way, look and see if there be any sorrow like mine!" What shall our answer be? "I remember and my heart fails within me." Here, noble queen of the heavenly King, your love will flame up ever more intensely. 

If you go to contemplate his inexpressible delights and the riches and honours he bestows, your heart will sigh with loving desire: “Draw me after you; we shall run after you, drawn by your fragranet perfumes,” heavenly Spouse! I shall run and not cease until you lead me into your wine cellar. 

When you contemplate all this, remember me, your poor little mother. Know that the memory of you is imprinted in my heart, for you are dearer to me than any other. 

A LETTER OF St CLARE TO ERMENTRUDE OF BRUGES 

In 1240 Ermentrude, a noble lady originally from Köln, went to Bruges, Belgium, where she lived for twelve years in a hermitage. She heard about Clare and the Poor Ladies and left for a pilgrimage to Assisi and Rome, but found that Clare had already died. She returned to Bruges and transformed her small hermitage into a monastery of Poor Ladies and then and then established other monasteries in Flanders. Clare had written two letters of encouragement to her. 

I have learned, O most dear sister, that, with the help of God's grace, you have fled in joy the corruptions of the world. I rejoice and congratulate you because of this and, again, I rejoice that you are walking courageously the paths of virtue with your daughters. Remain faithful until death, dearly beloved, to God to whom you have promised yourself, for you shall be crowned by him with the gariand of life. 

Our labour here is brief, but the reward is eternal. Do not be disturbed by the clamour of the world, which passes like a shadow. Do not let the faise delights of a deceptive world deceive you. Close your ears to the whisperings of hell and bravely oppose its onslaughts. Gladly endure whatever goes against you and do not let good fortune lift you up: for these things destroy faith, while these others demand it. Offer faithfully what you have vowed to God, and he shall reward you. 

O dearest one, look up to heaven, which calls us on, and take up the cross and follow Christ who has gone on before us: for through him we shall enter into his glory after many and diverse tribulations. Love God from the depths of your heart and Jesus, his Son, who was crucified for us sinners. Never let the thought of him leave your mind, but meditate constantly on the mysteries of the cross and the anguish of his mother as she stood beneath the cross. 

Pray and watch at all times! Carry out steadfastly the work you have begun and fulfil the ministry you have undertaken in true humility and holy poverty. Fear not, daughter! God, who is faithful in all his words and holy in all his deeds, will pour his blessings upon you and your daughters. He will be your help and best comforter for he is our Redeemer and our eternal reward. 

Let us pray to God together for each other for, by sharing each other's burden of charity in this way, we shall easily fulfil the law of Christ.

Bishop John Kudo Yoshio (1901-1996) A humble servant of the Lord

I have been sorting through some old photographs and came across this one taken nearly thirty years ago when I was Rector of Skipton in the Diocese of Ballarat. It is of the sanctuary party and singers just after Sunday Mass. 

The adjacent parish to the south of Skipton is Camperdown where, just a couple of years before, Father Michael King had established the Benedictine Monastery of St Mark, bringing his little community from the inner city of Melbourne. My parish and I had quite a bit to do with the Benedictines, and that is how I got to know a wonderful servant of the Lord, Bishop John Kudo (mitred in the photograph). 

Bishop Kudo, already in his eighties when I first met him, was an Oblate of Nashdom Abbey in England, and he had taken to visiting the Camperdown Benedictines. He was the real deal, or as we say in Australia, a “fair dinkum Anglo-Catholic.” Twice he spent time with me in my parish, and the people loved him. I recall one Sunday afternoon saying that I wanted to dash around to a party where a couple were celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. “Better have a bishop”, he said to me, and asked if he could come. He didn’t disappoint! After a drink and some socialising, I suggested that we pause for prayer and ask “our friend the Bishop” to bless the couple in Japanese! He did so, with the couple kneeling before him, and receiving the laying on of his hands. Bishop Kudo stole the show. He was, in fact, not in the best of health, and the people were amazed that he would want to come with me to drop in on them! 

From its beginning the Anglican Church in Korea was well and truly in the Catholic tradition. It included Japanese families as well as Koreans, so it was significant that Bishop Mark Trollope sent the Japanese John Kudo and the Korean Paul Kim to study theology at St Stephen’s House, Oxford, U.K., and ordained them deacons in Holy Redeemer, Clerkenwell (London) in 1930. 

The Bishop and two deacons returned to Korea together by sea, but the Bishop died in Kobe harbour when the Japanese ship in which they were travelling was rammed by another vessel. So it fell to the two deacons, and more particularly John Kudo, who as a Japanese, related more easily to the administration of the country, to accompany the Bishop's corpse to Seoul. Ordination as priests, in separate Japanese and Korean services, followed in September 1932, after Bishop Cooper had been enthroned. 

It was 1941 when Bishop Cooper had to leave Korea on account of World War II. Father Kudo was left as Vicar-General of the diocese. Bishop Yashiro of Kobe visited Korea for the Japanese Church as well as in connection with the Japanese Army. Seeing the situation he reported to the Japanese bishops and they consecrated John Kudo a bishop in the Church of God on 1 March 1942. Strictly speaking, this was uncanonical and Bishop Kudo was never legally appointed as a bishop of the Korean Church, but at great personal sacrifice and under the most difficult wartime conditions he held it together and protected it for the next three-and-a-half years. 

When the war ended in 1945, Bishop Kudo had to leave Korea for Japan with all other Japanese civilians - symbols of shameful defeat to their countrymen, and stripped of all their earthly goods. In addition, at that time the Anglican Church in Japan was extremely unsympathetic to Anglo-Catholics. So, with his perfect Oxford English, Bishop Kudo got a job translating for the International Labour Organisation (ILO), while working as an unpaid missionary and pastor among tuberculosis patients in a terminal care home. This was a ministry which he created and performed with great devotion, in due course building them a beautiful little church with an atmosphere modelled on the old chapel at Nashdom. Eventually he retired, though he paid many visits to Nashdom. The ex-Korea congregation came to his Mass from all over Tokyo. 

When Bishop Kudo died, aged 96, Richard Rutt, who also served the Korean Church as a priest and bishop, wrote, “His charm and devotion to Christ were extraordinary but his life and ministry were a tale of discouragement and rejection by his Church (because of his Catholic Faith). Friends of Korea should pray for him with gratitude and love.” 

(Paragraphs 4, 5 and 6 of this post are a conflation of two short articles by Richard Rutt in different issues of Morning Calm, the newsletter of the Korean Mission Partnership.)