Gratitude for the picture, but content of blog not attributable to: Ministru prezidenta Valda Dombrovska tikšanās ar Apvienotās Karalistes Ministru prezidentu Deividu Kameronu (8514463969).jpg

Dear Mr Cameron

Whilst I sit here in my warm, safe, comfortable home, in a country where planes flying over me are likely travelling to Spain or the Bahamas rather than about to drop bombs on my home, my town or my village, a drama is being celebrated at this time of year in many of our countries: the story of the birth of Christ, the Prince of Peace. I ask each one of us, and you especially at this time, Mr Cameron, to consider what role you are playing in the retelling of the Christmas story in the modern narratives of peoples of the world today, with respect to the current situation in Syria.

Archetypes in the Middle East

King Herod is a powerful archetype for certain players in the middle-east. He was a self interested monarch who reigned in Judea at the time when Christ was born in Bethlehem. He often used the brute force of a tyrant during his reign to keep social order for the power ruling Israel at that time, the Romans. He was a political man, firmly in bed with the Roman dynasty for his own self interest. Symbolically Herod could represent the tyranny of ISIL in Syria and Iraq by virtue of their cruelty and self aggrandisement. But Herod does not only represent a specific group like ISIL in the modern world. Anyone in the middle east who uses terror to subjugate people are archetypally like him.  A primary example is the Saudi’s with their horrendous human rights record, beheading and maiming people to keep their state system intact based upon a society of inequality and fear: “We cannot have the peasants disturbing our dynasty”. The violence of King Herod can also be seen in the brute force of western interests who perversely cosy around in the bedroom of Saudi oil interests at any cost, followed by the cry: “To war, we must go”. Its is at this later level, that Herod’s archetype operates perversely in British politic, Mr Cameron.

The archetype of vulnerability  

Now in the town of Bethlehem a stable within a cave, was the only shelter that Mary and Joseph could find for the birth of Jesus, the promised messiah, the Prince of Peace. His vulnerability and innocence can be recreated symbolically in the current plight of Syrian families who have fled the ongoing terror in their homeland, some sadly drowning in the Aegean and Mediterranean as they fled, and some being told by fearful westerners: “There is no room in the Inn”. The scenario of the stable and manger and the vulnerable baby Christ child can also be seen in the narrative of the people Raqqa, Syria, who now live in terror of Russian, US, UK and others, bombs. They know that a direct hit on their homes will mean death. They also know that being near an exploding bomb means possible death or horrendous maiming. Their narrative also relates to the story of the slaughter of the innocents under Herod: they are powerless before such violence. The refugees who leave Syria represents the Holy family fleeing Bethlehem and heading into Egypt seeking to escape Herod’s hatred: “There will be no King but I”.

Shepherds -a group of despised workers in Israel- represent the devastated and disenfranchised Syrians who have been tyrannised by both ISIL and the Westerner powers with bombs. They are disregarded to protect oil interests. The Magi represents the people of good will who seek the Prince of Peace guided by the illumination of a star and the light of their good will. These represent right minded people who find all the killing repugnant and who want to find a lasting solution to the devastation.

Mr Cameron, who do you represent in this drama?

Edward Clifford [Public domain-U.S], via Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:%27Some_Have_Entertained_Angels_Unawares%27,_watercolor_painting_by_Edward_Clifford.jpg

This post was inspired by two events today: one was reading an article on the influence of St Benedict on Western civilization; the other, by an encounter that took place during an unplanned road trip.

Today, Terry and I visited Turvey Abbey in Bedfordshire. It is a monastery which has two separate houses: one house for a community of monks and another for a community of nuns. The male community has five members and is called ‘The Monastery of Christ our Saviour’. Turvey Abbey is in a rural setting. It was originally a Jacobean style country house.  The men’s monastery occupies many of the former out-buildings, but the main chapel is a modern building constructed of timber and glass. Both nuns and monks join together in prayer in this wonderful light filled space. There is also a separate Blessed Sacrament Chapel in the original manor house.

We were privileged to meet and speak with a 94 year old brother who showed us the chapels and talked to us about the community. It turned out that we knew many of the same people from Walsingham and he shared with us the story of his first visit to Walsingham, travelling by bicycle through Norfolk and sleeping outdoors.  The experience of talking to this brother was beautiful; there was a real sense of heartfelt familiarity and kinship between us. Interestingly enough, this is the same feeling I experienced on meeting two other Benedictine monks last month in Walsingham, who came to visit Subiaco from London. There was a genuine feeling of hospitality offered by this monk at Turvey Abbey, who stopped whatever he might have been doing in order to show two strangers around the Abbey and share its history with them. Similarly I was honoured that two strangers from the monastery in London felt it worth their while to visit Subiaco last month.

Pope Francis has often talked about the importance of a culture of encounter where hearts and minds meet in holy charity and hospitality. This idea of ‘encounter’ is central to the Benedictine ethos. In a society where individualism and the cult of ‘self’ above all else, is privileged, the Benedictine practice of heart felt hospitality is genuinely counter cultural. It demands that we place the needs of others, including strangers, above our own needs. In truth, humanity is interconnected and interrelated; however, the culture of “I” would almost seem to deny these fundamental principles of human survival.  A society which prizes “my needs, my stuff, my space” with the mantra of “I, I, I, I”, does not honour the dignity of human life, the common good, spiritual growth, ecological integrity nor economic justice. Fundamentally, rugged individualism does not make us happy, for our true sense of self-worth is more genuinely generated by the reciprocated love and esteem of others. Historically, rugged individualism has been seen as perhaps a temporary necessity, but never as the summit of human good. St Benedict captures this beautifully when he instructs us to remember that “All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ”.

Walsingham, England’s Nazareth, honours the Incarnation of Christ and inextricably links this to community and holy hospitality. Soon after Mary is told by the Angel Gabriel that she is to become the Mother of God and that her kinswoman is pregnant, she hastens to visit Elizabeth in service and solidarity, exemplifying the very notion of community and hospitality. In the Magnificat, Mary proclaims a fundamental reordering of society according the principles of the Kingdom of God: “He casts the mighty from their thrones and raises the lowly, he fills the starving with good things and sends the rich away empty” (Luke 1: 52-53). Mary links these ideas to the very merciful Father, who loves the poor and the outcast, the orphan and the widow, and who disdains the proud, the arrogant and the selfish.  These principles are expressed more fully in the Beatitudes, where the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the peacemakers and those persecuted for the Gospel are explicitly blessed by Jesus. The strong message here is that the spirit of hospitality and community are inextricably linked to social justice by Jesus and Mary.

Today’s visit to Turvey Abbey reminded us of the true wealth of the Benedictine ethos of community living, charity within community and gracious hospitality. We were received as angels in disguise (Hebrews 13: 2) by the 94 year old brother. The energy of Christ-centred love emanated from all three hearts in today’s encounter and joined us in communion. This was in marked contrast to so many encounters in contemporary society, especially during the busy holiday season when people seldom have time to accommodate unexpected visitors.  It also made us both reflect very carefully about how we can cultivate a sense of preparedness for accommodating the needs of strangers and visitors, both those whom we personally encounter and those who, like the Syrian refugees, present as a national/international issue. Terry commented that during his long absence from the UK last summer, he felt like he was in exile. He has only just started to feel reintegrated in the past few weeks, and this is thanks largely to his community of friends in Walsingham and beyond.

May 2016 increase merciful love in the form of holy hospitality in our community of Walsingham and in the world and make us a more merciful people in this Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy.

This has been a very strange weekend for me with events that seem a million miles apart from one another. Life has a strange habit of asking us to attend to many diverse things close together which often seem unrelated and disconnected. Nonetheless events are related to one another because all life is connected at the fundamental level of reality. Disparate events we attend to so often speak to the depth of our humanity and can help us to make sense of the larger context of our lives in the scheme of divine providence. The moving wings of the butterfly in Australia are not disconnected from the storms blowing in Europe, so the quantum scientists inform us.

On Friday I attended the funeral of our friend Sr Wendy Renate, a religious who lived in the village of Walsingham and served in the Basilica of Our Lady of Walsingham as sacristan. She died unexpectedly a few weeks ago much to everybody’s shock and disbelief. Sr Wendy was a palpable presence in Walsingham, a character larger than life, often making visits to local people, some of whom were housebound. She was renowned for telling jokes, sharing stories, and bringing joy to others in simple ways. She shared her humanity with all. The funeral Mass in the Basilica of Our Lady of Walsingham was completely filled with friends and family on Friday, including many religious and clergy. There was an immensity of fond and loving remembrance of her and the impact she had on so many lives throughout her 30 years in the village.  During the funeral Mass I found myself thinking about the fragility and impermanence of life, and how we are called to touch one another with the tenderness of God, now, at this very moment in time, and not tomorrow or in the future because tomorrow may never come. We touch the lives of others with God’s grace through our humanity and not through great works to gain the admiration of the world.  It is through our human personality, our presence, listening, sharing humour, patience, kindness and so forth that God’s grace shines through us powerfully onto the lives of others.

On Saturday we were in London, attending an anti-austerity march. Thousands were present from all over the country expressing anger at the government for its punishing austerity measures. These measures have impacted negatively on so many vulnerable people whilst tax exemptions are given to those who could pay more. Unlike the funeral Mass on Friday, which was attended by a gathering of people for loving remembrance, this gathering instead held a depth of anger, rage, and dare I say, hatred at times, towards the government, which was tangible. I understand the reasons why people are so angry about austerity. I too am angry about its effects on the vulnerable and was glad to march in solidarity with them. But it was incredibly hard to be present around such powerful anger and hatred. At 3pm, Terry and I prayed the Divine Mercy prayer on the march, both for everyone present, for those suffering as a result of austerity and for the government itself.

What did these very different events say to me? It said that people matter, whether you are a nun visiting the housebound and lonely or an advocate for the poorest and most vulnerable people in society. The heart is what matters. Our intention to help and touch others is what God needs the most and can use the the fullest. God can work through our willingness. My prayer for all of us who attended the march is that we undertake protest and advocacy with the same good heartedness that Sr Wendy had towards others in her visits to many people in Walsingham. Without Gods grace, without humility and without holding the tenderness of Divine kindness in our being, our protest or benevolence can easily turn into hubris and negativity. A good question to ask ourselves is, if today were my last day on earth, what would be most important things for me to do?

The ancient English Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham is a very special place. Walsingham is a sacred space which is mystically united to the mystery of the Incarnation when the “Word became flesh and pitched his tent among us” (John 1: 14). When God in Christ united himself to all humanity in Mary’s womb at the moment of Mary’s fiat, we, too, were all included in that womb with him.  All humankind throughout all time coexisted with him in that warm and dark space to rest safe and secure in love. Jesus came for everyone on earth: black, white, male female, gay, straight, transgendered, able bodied, disabled, Muslim, Jew, Hindu, Pagan atheist and agnostic; the rejected, the abused, the forlorn; the refugee, the prisoner, the despised and the disposable ones – everyone without exception. When in 1061 Our Lady revealed herself to Richeldis, she told her that Walsingham was to be a place where those who need strength can come and find peace and healing:

“Do all this unto my special praise and honour. And all who are in any way distressed or in need, let them seek me here in that little house you have made at Walsingham. To all that seek me there shall be given succour. And there at Walsingham in this little house shall be held in remembrance the great joy of my salutation when Saint Gabriel told me I should through humility become the Mother of God’s Son.”

In September 2015 I encountered a group of men and women on retreat in Walsingham from the LGBT Catholic group, Quest. I had previously been a member of Quest some years earlier when I lived in London so this was a joyful encounter for me. In December 2015 a radio program was recorded in which a Muslim, a Catholic and a Northern Irish Protestant came to Walsingham to experience the essence of the place and share their reflections from the perspectives of their own traditions.  More recently there was an interfaith pilgrimage in April 2017 that celebrated the diversity of God’s children by coming together in this ancient place.

There are some Catholics who would take exception to what I am saying. They see the Church as an exclusive club and Catholicism as a religion that merely stands in contrast to the world, rather than engaging with it. The complexity and messiness of humanity is contained both in the scriptures and in the Church itself, and we are all part of that human messiness.  I sometimes feel concerned that Walsingham might become synonymous with traditionalist Catholicity, since organizations such as EWTN have taken an interest in the development of the Shrine and are now based in Walsingham. Mary’s village is a place for everyone. I therefore hope we see many more of the diverse children of God coming to Walsingham and experiencing the gift of this place. In this Marian womb we can all grow together.

Walsingham is a place of unity in diversity.  A Christian, who might like the Pharisee, pray: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people” (Luke 18: 11), especially those gays, divorced and remarried Catholics, liberals, Muslims, asylum seekers and many others”, too often forget that they too, are all those “other people”. We are all in this human messiness together, and as such, we all share the same Marian womb space with everyone else. When we cling to either a narrow religiosity or to some nationalistic zeal in antithesis to difference  and diversity- as we are currently seeing in Trump’s America – we are mentally and spiritually attempting to eject these others from Mary’s womb. Walsingham, as a place that honours the incarnation, celebrates the inclusive womb space of Mary.

For the past year now, I have been seriously thinking about whether I have a future with the Catholic Church. I am still discerning.

When Francis became the pope in 2013, I was truly excited by his energy and vision. His focus on the poor and marginalised and his call to embrace social justice as a prerequisite for the spiritual life set my heart on fire. His pontificate has been powerful. He has called the Church to humbly and sincerely engage in dialogue with the world bearing the love of Christ in our hearts and witnessing to the message of hope found in the the Gospel; to embrace a spirit of inclusiveness and compassionate mission; to reach out to divorced and remarried and LGBT people and their families; to make child safeguarding an important part of the Church’s mission and purpose; to stop financial corruption in the Vatican Bank; to make the essence of mercy core to the very heart and consciousness of the Church’s life itself, and not merely to treat it as a superficial devotion. He has called upon clerics to embrace simplicity of life and to reject worldliness and egotism. He has invited us all to embrace the spirit, not the letter of the law. His invitation has been for the people of God to walk alongside and befriend those of us who have felt alienated from the Church for a long time, now. For me, hearing this message, it was like hearing “good news” for the first time, delivered with dynamism, energy and Christ-like kindness.

Sadly, what I have seen in the years following his election has been resistance to this call. I have heard slander towards him and his mission, especially from some of his priests and fellow prelates; accusations of heresy, apostasy and of even being Antichrist by some fringe fanatics. There have been strong calls for a return to the Church of John Paul II and Benedict and there have been hopes expressed that Francis pontificate will be short. In the U.S bishops have continued to terminate the contracts of LGBT Catholics from posts in the Church, leaving them without an income, merely because they are gay or lesbian. The hope has been expressed by some conservatives, that someone like Cardinal Sarah will be elected in order to roll back the Francis tide, and restore the previous status quo. Catholic media sources, especially in America have been critical and divisive about him. They are terrified of the Francis effect and resist it with vigour. They simply don’t want Francis’ vision for the Church, period.

And what have the conservative wing of the Church said to divorced and remarried and LGBT Catholics? They have said, “You can’t have access to the Eucharist; if you do, you’ll be damned”. Law, rules, regulations, prescriptions and thou shalt not’s, rather than dialogue and discernment, mercy and compassion. With respect to Pope Francis inclusive pro-life approach, which as well as expressing concern for the unborn, includes refugees, the poor, those deprived of food, shelter and healthcare, prisoners on death row, and the forgotten and the disposable ones of our world; some have insisted: “Abortion is the most important thing for Catholics, not welfare”.

What do I think will happen when Francis is no-longer pope? My deepest fear, based on the evidence I see is that they will replace him with another conservative. He is not one of the clerical club and this is considered dangerous. The clericalism, the power and the survival of the institution as an entity is more important to some. The Church being a separate society to the world is important to others. I believe that many in high places do not want his vision and energy for various reasons: some because of self-preservation and others because they want to closed shop Church. Many regret his election and do not want his reform. Some detest Amoris Letitia, because it opens the doorway to mature spirituality. The idea that the Holy Spirit speaks most clearly through the family rather than through ecclesial law, is an anathema to many fearful voices who want a closed, insular and very religious Church.

The Anglican Communion is beginning to look like a safer home for me than the Catholic Church. What sadness I feel to say this.

Brendan Mooney

23 February 2018

A week ago, I met with an old friend of mine in London whom I hadn’t seen for almost 20 years. It was a joyful reunion which gave us both great deal of happiness. He’s like a soul friend, with whom I’ve had a deep spiritual connection since we first met in 1988. We talked about our respective life journeys and what had been happening in the years since we last saw one another. Part of our conversation included something of our disappointment with the institutional Catholic Church, about how there is a well organised conservative contingent of bishops clerics and lay people who are actively and relentlessly undermining the reforming work of Pope Francis. My friend and I were perplexed by it at one level but also not surprised at another.  We spent the entire afternoon and much of the evening talking about and reflecting on matters of faith and meaning. We drank coffee, ate cake and pondered the future of the Church with so much hostility directed towards Francis mission. A question my friend asked me during our conversation was “do you think Francis is a liberal?”. Without hesitation, my response was a definite no, but I gave a positive yes to another far more important attribute. I said: “He is deeply compassionate, and human; that is what makes him different”.

Francis has a heart for people, their lives, struggles and their ultimate well being, He wishes to invite people to immerse themselves in the infinite tenderness of the God of love, in whom they can find their direction, purpose and  ultimate identity and hope. He especially has compassion and empathy for the poor, the marginalised and disposable ones of this world.  Francis is Christlike in his compassionate concern for all peoples regardless of their religion or identity. He witnesses to the interconnectedness of all aspects of human life which is reflected in his encyclicals. These encyclicals touch upon care for the poorest and most vulnerable; for our mother the earth and about the fair redistribution of the resources of the world. The gospel is proclaimed through love for one another, not through trying to convert people to Catholicism.

His vision is for a world where there are communities of tender care and concern reflecting the Trinitarian movement of giving and receiving love. His testimony of care has been shown in the ways that he has supported migrants, established facilities for the homeless in Rome and in which he has given his fullest support to the work of Caritas International. He knows that social justice and human equality can only be actualised within a framework of care for one another, for creation and through a fairer redistribution of global resources. He invites humanity into a massive metanoia of heart. He knows that a life without true and eternal values can at worst, reduce human beings into mere consumers who mindlessly chase after transient things and who remain indifferent to the vulnerable of the world.

He feels the pain of the suffering peoples of the world with a tender heart. His heart is united with the heart of Christ who had compassion for the unloved and discarded of his own time. It is from this compassionate pastor’s hearts that he invites humanity to embrace the vulnerable and powerless. He importantly recognises that the Church, when it weighs people down with massive burdens of law and does nothing to help them is acting in a callous, heartless and hypocritical manner.

My friend and I, both felt sad that there is so much active resistance mobilised against Francis within his own Church, by those in positions of episcopal authority as well as by some priests and laity. Francis’ mission is inspiring Anglicans, Orthodox and people of other faiths and none, to greater collaboration and communal kindness. It’s a bit like the story Jesus told in Luke 14, about the man organising a great banquet which those nearest would not attend and who were then bypassed for those further away. My deepest question is, why are there hearts within his own community that have hardened themselves to his mission of mercy and tenderness in favour of doctrinal exactitude and the letter of the law, whilst protestants and others embrace him? It feels like the theme of Jesus facing the resistance of the doctors of the law is being replayed in modern times with Francis.

Homophobia and sexism in the Catholic Church are hurting LGBT people and women. Failing to listen to the voices of adult survivors of clergy abuse when they speak loudly is hurting survivors.  The Church is denying people who bring grace filled gifts to the table – often borne from a crucible of suffering in which divine grace is fully present – from sharing their gifts. The continued denial of women taking up offices in the Church; the recent laughable rules about not ordaining gay men to the priesthood and the dismissal of LGBT people from diocesan posts in the United States, and the shameful treatment of Marie Collins who was appointed to the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors are all indicators of an institution that says one thing and does another; that places its patriarchal power above the lives of the people whom it is supposed to serve. Jesus washed the feet of his apostles as a sign of how ministry should be conducted; he engaged with the Samaritan woman at the well, with warmth and good will and he touched all peoples with mercy and compassion. Mercy poured out in the naked vulnerability of the broken and bleeding body of Jesus, destroyed by the institutional religion of his time, is a sign that stands in antithesis to patriarchal religious power dominating the conversation. The Church is failing to copy her master.

Women and men together bring their co-equal gifts to the table of human family and enrich the world with all dimensions of God’s creative energy, power and dynamism. The Church, by remaining a fortified male bastion of power and privilege is denying this reality. The Vatican’s recent refusal to host the International Women’s Day Conference because it disapproves of the guest speakers, one of whom was speaking on behalf of LGBT people in Uganda – a country where there has been brutal cruelty to LGBT people – speaks volumes about the resistiveness to the diverse gifts from all God’s people.

Theologian Karen Armstrong is very favourable to the idea of religious institutions signing up to, and adhering to, a Charter of Compassion. She identifies that the Golden Rule of treating others as you want to be treated yourself is at the heart of all world religions. The Charter for Compassion which Armstrong herself has founded, is about both individuals and organisations committing to alleviating and preventing suffering by refraining from causing suffering. Sexism, homophobia and alienating the voices and gifts of adult survivors of sexual abuse, causes suffering.  Placing compassion at the core of theology and ecclesiology challenges practices and power systems that create suffering and inequality. The Charter for Compassion can be a system for accountability for faith communities. Considering the history of the systemic oppression of women, LGBT people and survivors of sexual abuse, such a model of compassionate accountability is sorely needed. Giving prominence to the voices of those who have suffered because of ecclesiastical oppression changes the conversation completely. It calls for ecclesial humility from those who serve and requires a willingness to allow the components of compassion to interrogate their presuppositions. These components are kindness, warmth, tenderness, love, vulnerability, humility, nurturance, wisdom, openness, empathy and many more. Embedding compassion at the heart of Church life could transform the patriarchal structures.

A call to consciousness by Sr Ilia Delio OSF in light of recent events at the US border

“While we may feel powerless and helpless in the face of the government’s “zero tolerance” immigration policy, we do have power, the power of the mind to focus on our desires. The Buddha said that the mind creates the world, not the other way around. Jesus said, where your mind/heart is, there your treasure lies. Quantum physicists are now saying that mind may be be the governor and creator of matter. The West has become preoccupied with pragmatism, empiricism and action; the East has been more focused on the training of the mind.

So what is our power? To collectivize our minds/hearts into a field of power. I invite everyone who reads this post to stop what they are doing at 3:00 pm. each day for ten minutes; to focus one’s mind and heart on the repeal of the zero tolerance policy and the return of the children to their families by sitting silently in the presence of God/the Beloved/the One or whatever name you give to the Ground of Being who is Love: “Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened.” Do you believe in the power of Love?”