Retreat Diary Day 1 Entry 2

Day one: Don’t walk so fast!

One rarely notices the fast pace of most our lives until one comes away. Thankfully, I have had a few glimpses, experiencing the somewhat slower pace of life in Africa a few times and also from previous visits here.

I pulled into the car park and rang the doorbell, waiting for somebody to open the door and let me in. My name was already on the list with the allocated room number and, having been here several times before, I was able to reassure the lady that opened the door that I knew where the room was and could find my own way. I was home and knew where my bedroom was, so to speak.

Having brought all of my stuff into my room, I hung up my clothes, unpacked my books and decided to go to the Church. The Church is usually the first place I visit: the silence, the stillness is so beautiful, almost seductive, and I sometimes feel that I could stay there all day. I arrived at the Church to find that there wasn’t much stillness. There are various works taking place inside and outside the Church, with tall scaffolding erected inside the Church.

The first place on entering the church from the retreat house side was the Crucifixion Chapel and so I tried to sit. No. Too much noise to find that stillness and hear the still, small voice of God. Through the Blessed Sacrament Chapel and into the side Chapel—Resurrection Chapel—which is rather better protected from noise outside. There I sat in front of a large and beautiful icon of the Resurrection of Christ: the light reflecting beautifully from the gold of the icon as the image of the Resurrected Christ looked at me as much as I looked at it and seemed to say “Behold, I have overcome all things.”

Then back to the retreat house. I had forgotten my Rosary beads and so went to the gift shop to buy a new set and a new book that caught my eye.

What I realised was that I was walking quite quickly from one place to the next, from one thing to the next and I found myself asking myself the question “Why are you moving so quickly?”

As I went to the Church again for Midday Prayer and Mass, I tried to slow my pace, noticing how slowly and gently the Brethren of the Community move. As I sat in the area where guests sit, I looked at the scaffolding and thought to myself, “What a shame that all this is here”. But it was as though that still, small voice uttered into my heart that sometimes such maintenance is required so that things can be beautiful and that this was much like my heart. I had neglected it for far too long and there was a lot of noise and chaos and maintenance that needed to be done.

“Slow down, my child, and allow your heart to be touched and healed by the grace of the One who called you.”

Then to the Mass…the sense of quiet contemplation as we awaited the arrival of the priest. No fuss, no unnecessary embellishments or distractions…just the simplicity of the liturgy done in stillness and reverence. And then some words from the Epistle seemed to jump out as though they were being spoken to me:

¹¹To this end we always pray for you, asking that our God will make you worthy of his call and will fulfil by his power every good resolve and work of faith, ¹²so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Thessalonians 1:11-12)

God will make me worthy of his call and will fulfil by his power all that he wants to do through me. Usually I don’t hear such things speak to me until the third or fourth day of retreat but to have had an experience like this was truly a blessing.

Then to lunch, to some conversation with some other people. I thought I would then go to my room and have a short nap. (It turned out to be an hour and a half. I often find that the first day or sometimes two of a retreat consist mostly of sleeping.)

“Slow down, my child, and allow your heart to be touched and healed by the grace of the One who called you.”

Then came the delightful slowness of Evening Prayer, enjoying joining in with the beautiful plainsong, singing chants that have been used for however many centuries, feeling so connected to the inheritance of faith that has been passed down and into which we step. No need for slogans, initiatives or projects, just the entering in, singing the Psalms and hearing God’s word.

Then back to my room where all is still apart from the gentle call of woodpigeons and the noise of some traffic not so far away. But all is still and today’s communication ends for the evening as I await the beauty of Compline and the Greater Silence, held until 9am tomorrow.

“Slow down, my child, and allow your heart to be touched and healed by the grace of the One who called you.” 

Retreat diary Day 1, entry 1

It has been almost three years since I have been on retreat but I have today arrived at the Community of the Resurrection in Mirfield, West Yorkshire. I normally bring my journal (as I have done this time) and write in that but I thought it might be interesting to share a more public version of my reflections.

Why retreat?

There once was a man who got very excited when he had bought himself a loaf of bread and some jam. He loved jam sandwiches and couldn’t wait to make himself one when he got home.

As he prepared to make himself a sandwich, there was a knock at the door. “Could you make me a jam sandwich?” the guest asked. Without hesitation, he made his guest a sandwich and sent him on his way.

“Now I can make myself a sandwich in peace,” he thought to himself. As he started to make a sandwich there was another knock at the door. There stood a young woman who was obviously hungry. “Could you give me something to eat?” asked the young woman. He gave her the sandwich he had prepared and sent her on her way with God’s blessing.

Time and time again he made himself a sandwich, and again there were knocks at the door from  guests who were hungry. He gave the sandwiches away and blessed the guests. He felt good that he was able to bless so many people but he began to realise that he was getting very tired and as he went to make himself a sandwich, he noticed that all his bread was gone and he was left hungry. He began to feel a little frustrated and angry. “Why is there nothing left for me?” he began to ask as the frustration grew within him. “I am fed up of giving food to everybody else and having little or nothing left for me.”

That was perhaps a silly example to use but it does illustrate what it can feel like to be in ordained ministry as a priest. Retreat is a time to come away and allow others to make you a jam sandwich, or at least be sure that if you make a sandwich you will be able to eat it yourself without being disturbed. You can be fed yourself for a little while.

Thankfully, it is largely expected that clergy will take a retreat at least annually. Some Dioceses will give at least partial funding to their clergy to cover the costs and many parishes should be encouraged to cover the rest of the cost in order to ensure the spiritual health of their clergy.

Why the Community of the Resurrection?

I have been coming here for several years. Truth be told, I wish I had come here to train but I went somewhere else, largely due to my personal circumstances at the time. Since ordination, I have regularly come on retreat here. It has been almost three years since I last came here but as I arrived, it felt like I was only here yesterday.

I don’t remember whether it happened from the very first time I came here but certainly for the last few years the Community of the Resurrection has felt like home. As I drive from the M62 into Mirfield and drive up Stocks Bank Road, I have that feeling of arriving home after a long absence.

As I sit in the Church for the first time, it feels as though every worry, every burden is lifted and a still, small voice whispers to me, “Welcome home, son”. If I sometimes find it hard to remember why I began this journey that led to my ordination to the priesthood, when I come here I remember. It is as though when I come here I rediscover who I am and who I am meant to be. Life makes sense again.

I have wondered before whether I should become more closely attached to the Community but have never been sure whether that is my vocation or just the lovely feeling that one gets when one goes on retreat. Perhaps more conversations to be had to discern this?

So here I am. Day 1. It is Monday and I am here until after lunch on Friday and so I will try to write a daily post about what has happened to me here.

Perhaps something in all of this will be encouraging to you.

General election 2019

Ok, so…

Having stayed up until the result of the election was clear, I have only just got up. (It’s my day off so that’s completely fine.) So, having slept for a few hours, I thought I would offer my reflections.

Short version: It was not the result I was hoping for but it was a decisive result. We must now move forward and work together to build a society of which we may be proud.

Longer version:

I think people—myself included—voted almost entirely on Brexit. I couldn’t in conscience—for reasons I will explain below—vote for a pro-Brexit party. The fact that so many seats were won by the Conservatives show how strong the Brexit motive was. Many Brexit areas voted overwhelmingly for the Conservatives and this was clear.

Up until the Brexit referendum, I was a Conservative voter. In large part because I believe that we are all responsible for our lives and that the decisions that we make affect the rest of our lives. Being from a working-class background, and having made the decisions I have made in life, I have done relatively well. Others who haven’t made wise decisions have not done so well. I am still a believer in working hard to get where we want to be. I don’t think that we can or should rely on the state to bring us all to a prosperous position. In 2015, I heard a lot of comments from people who might ordinarily have not been Conservative voters but who were voting Conservative because they were getting tired of working hard and struggling while others spent their lives, making poor decisions, and sometimes (apparently) ending up with more prosperous lives. (I am not saying that they were correct but it was an explanation I heard a lot. Comments like “they’ve got a bigger TV than I have got” or “I can’t afford to go to Turkey on holiday”.)

Of course, there are, always have been, and always will be, people who, for many reasons, will need the support of the state and local communities to provide for them. I don’t believe that we can or should vilify those who cannot work or have no choice but to rely on state aid. I have also met people and spent large amounts of time speaking to people, on the other side of that coin, for whom reliance on state support has being something of a lifestyle choice. The reasons for this are many and complicated. I have always believed that those who genuinely cannot work or lift themselves out of poverty should be supported and not forced to live in poverty or have to beg for money or food. I believe in a basic level of human dignity: even—especially—for those who struggle to or simply cannot seize it themselves.

One of the reasons I changed the way I vote this time was that I didn’t feel I could vote for a Conservative government without some of the protections that being in the EU offers. The Conservative party appears to be moving to the right and I don’t feel I can support this. What is surprising about this election is that many of the communities that have switched to voting Conservative are exactly the communities who have tended to suffer under Conservative governments. I don’t believe that the Conservative party will do enough to support poorer working-class communities. I fear that poorer communities and our society’s most vulnerable are at threat. I think that many of those communities have voted for poverty and difficulty, simply not to be part of the European Union.

One of the reasons that I could not—and cannot—support Brexit is that, in my understanding, it all grew out of Europe’s experience of two world wars, in which much of Europe was brought to its knees. The nations of Europe—and indeed the world—began to see that coming together to create a European community would be the key to not having wars in Europe again. And they were correct! (Recognising, of course, that there have been conflicts largely within nations, like the former Yugoslavia, for example.)

The ability to travel within Europe is something that can only be described as a joy and blessing. For somebody like me, who is passionate about learning languages, the ability to travel easily through Europe is a great gift, even if I don’t have the money to travel as much as I would like to. The ability, as a country, to cooperate with and learn from our European neighbours, within this country and within mainland Europe, is a huge asset. Not to mention how many EU nationals have been working in our health service and in many other invaluable ways.

Coming out of the EU, to me, seems like a retrograde step. Of course, we are not the only country who has been talking about leaving the EU. Many European countries have also witnessed a rise in far-right parties who seek to hold onto sovereignty or ‘take back control’. However, if countries leave the EU, we always risk opening the door to arguments about territory and to conflicts arising between countries within Europe.

Of course, much of that is my opinion and I may be wrong. However, what have we witnessed in this country since 2010? It seems to me—though I am happy to be proven wrong—that we have seen:

• an increase in people being forced to rely on foodbanks;
• an increase in homelessness and extreme poverty;
• an increase in xenophobia;
• an increase in islamophobia;
• people feeling that their very ability to remain and work in this country is under threat.

Casual glances on social media show an increase in sentiments that I cannot agree with. Within minutes of the exit poll, I began to see posts on social media, which can only be described as xenophobic. One of them said, “This is England: we drink beer and eat pork. If you don’t like it…” If this is to become the kind of thing that we see more of under this Conservative majority government, then I think we should hang our heads in shame. I fear that, under this Conservative majority government and leaving the EU, we will see a rise in xenophobia. I think we will see a rise in racist attacks. I think that many people will feel that they now have permission to express views publicly that many of us would not consider acceptable, because we are taking back control.

I predict that the rise in poverty, homelessness etc. will continue. When we leave Europe, which are very likely to do now, I think that we will see an increase in all of these things. I think that many people who have voted Conservative because of Brexit will find that there lives become much harder. I predict that we will see a rise in xenophobia and perhaps even racist attacks. I believe that we will see an increase in Islamophobia.

All that said, I do hope that there will be significant investment and improvement in the NHS. I hope that there will significant investment in education. I hope that our country will become stronger. However, at the moment my fears seem to outweigh my hopes.

I shall continue to pray for Her Majesty the Queen and her government. I shall pray for a fairer society of which we can all be proud but I feel bound, as a Christian and as a priest, to pray with Our Lady that the proudhearted my be scattered, and the lowly raised up.

Those of us who are relatively comfortable or even wealthy will, I think, need to be much more generous to those who are not as comfortable. We will need to take responsibility for looking after and caring for the most vulnerable. I have a lot of fears but I hope and pray to be proven wrong in time.

For now, I would like to say to my European brothers and sisters:

• Je vous aime.
•  Ich liebe euch.
• Ik hou van jullie.
• Jag älskar er.
• Jeg elsker jer.
• Os quiero.
• Us estimo.
• Vi amo.
• (‘I love you’ to all of you whose language I don’t know well enough to type that without having to look it up.)

I will continue to travel whenever I can to experience the varied riches that you offer—not talking money, of course!

To my muslim friends, I say ‘assalamu alaykum’.

Let us move forward to create a society of which we can be proud. May God deliver us from having to bow our heads in shame. We will have to take much more responsibility to help those in need. We will all have to take much more responsibility to raise up the lowly. We will have to do much more to support the vulnerable in our society.

God save the Queen!

My relationship with languages

A lot of this post has come from watching the following video, which I recommend highly to anybody interested: https://youtu.be/ROh_-RG3OVg

"How many languages do you speak?"

One of the questions I find hardest to answer is: "How many languages do you speak?" If I am honest, the difficulty I have with it isn't to do with not knowing but more to do with the strange attention it gets. I feel embarrassed, like I am becoming an exhibition piece. One acquaintance of mine, observing somebody asking me that question, remarked to me: "I have never seen somebody back-pedal as quickly before".
There is also the question of the point at which you can legitimately claim that you speak a language. At what point of fluency can you say that you speak a language? The languages I would say I can understand reasonably fluently are: English (mother tongue), French, German, Italian, Spanish, Dutch, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Kiwahili. (I may have forgotten a couple.) One or two of those languages have become rusty but, to take Kiswahili as one example, I preached whole sermons in Kiswahili when I was in Kenya. Other languages I speak to varying degrees from a few phrases to basic conversation include: Irish, Welsh, isiXhosa, Chinese (Mandarin), Cantonese, Polish, Portuguese, Catalan, Hindi, Greek, Arabic, Russian. I may here have left off one or two. I also know enough Biblical Hebrew and NT Greek to be able to look up things I need to know. Languages like Arabic or Hindi, I really only know a few phrases and so cannot really claim to speak them. Others, like Catalan, I have read a novel in and listen to radio. I understand quite a lot but would not feel ready to rock up to Barcelona and speak away. (If I could go to Barcelona today, I would do my best and would be confident of reaching a reasonable degree of fluency within a couple of weeks.)
I have often said before that the more languages one learns, the more one learns how to learn languages.

"How did it all start?"

As far as my memory serves, it all started when I was in the first year of Junior School (now known as Year 3). It was still in those days (in the mid '80s) when schools used series of textbooks to teach English. I don't know how true my memory is but I seem to remember that I shot ahead quite quickly. (The interesting thing is that I didn't really pay much attention at school until Year 3.) My class teacher lent me a French phrasebook, thinking that I might be interested. At that age, it was just a book with loads of strange words in it and it wasn't until the 4th year (Year 6) that I started to teach myself French and German by buying those Collins Gem French Grammar and German Grammar books. I don't know why but my interest was piqued. I seem to remember starting to learn Dutch that year too--I still don't know why!

When I went to Secondary School and started to be taught French and German, my teacher asked me how come my French and German were so good. I just sort of shrugged, being slightly embarrassed (but proud of myself at the same time).

In the end, I took my French GCSE two years early, in Year 9. The following November I started to learn Italian from scratch and took the GCSE in June, in Year 10, along with German and Music. What tended to happen was that I would just decide to learn another language out of curiosity and the list grew and grew.

My mother tells the story of one of my French teachers telling her that my teacher could not teach me anything more and that my French was better than the teacher's. I don't know how true that is because I wasn't there, and I remember that that teacher's French was really good and we would usually only ever talk to each other in French. (I suspect my mum has embellished a little. Sorry Mum, if you read this!)

Adult life

I went off to University at 18 to study Foreign Languages. I was doing really well but did not complete the degree (through poor mental health). However, I spent large amounts of my social time with French students, as well as German and Italian. If ever I encountered somebody whose language I knew, I would always speak their language. I was never afraid of making mistakes. If I were to write this blog in another language, it would probably be full of mistakes but I might do it anyway!

The list of languages has just grown and grown and one of the highlights for me in my adult life was when I was in South Africa four years ago, where there are 11 official languages. Where I was, I once spoke in 5 or 6 languages in one day. It was like heaven. My favourite memory was speaking Afrikaans to order a book in a bookshop. At the end of the conversation, the lady I was speaking to politely asked me if I was from the Netherlands. I was more than happy to live with that mistake.

When I was in Kenya, I remember holding a New Year's Eve vigil in the new school building that was almost complete. I gave a little homily in Swahili and one of the children asked me (in Kiswahili) whether I was a white man or an African. When I asked her what she thought, she said "You are African!".

As an aside, making the effort to speak somebody's language really does improve the relationship exponentially, even if you can only manage a few phrases.

"How do you learn?"

I am not sure that I believe that I have some kind of special gift. I think that everybody can learn languages if they really want to and put their mind, time, and energy to it.

• Firstly, I learn alone. (It doesn't matter what the subject is. I always learn best alone, at least to start with. Only then can other people be involved. When I did my theology degree, I soon learnt that lectures rarely helped, whereas a reading list did.) 
• Personally, I tend to find starting with grammar helpful. The grammar of a language is like the foundations of a building. Once that is in place, you simply build on top of it.
• The most important thing is to be patient. I am incredibly impatient and want to know 'all the things' immediately. However, it is worth taking it very slowly in the beginning. It is like the foundation: if the foundation is not solid, the rest of the building will not be sound. There is always a point at which it suddenly clicks if one perseveres. One has to resist the urge to give up when it is difficult in the beginning.
• When one reaches a certain level, it is important to immerse oneself in the language. When I was learning Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian, I found that immersing myself in radio and television--easily accessible online these days--was really helpful. Of course, in the beginning it was just random sounds and I found it hard to make out individual words but as I continued, words began to take shape and as my vocabulary grew, so I was able to understand. I happen to love Scandinavian crime thrillers so stocking up on them and reading them in the original languages helped. Of course, for the first few pages, I was looking up almost every word. It was very tedious and I was tempted to give up. However, suddenly the moment came when I was looking up words much less. Now, I can read or listen to the radio and hardly look anything up. Of course, I don't really know how good my spoken abilities are in those languages because I haven't had much opportunity to practise. I did have a long conversation in Danish once and that went very well. I was very surprised.
• I think that the most important thing of all is to try and not be afraid to make mistakes. We will all make mistakes in foreign languages: it doesn't matter how well we speak them. I will still make mistakes, even in my best languages, even in English! There is nothing wrong with that. The fear of making mistakes is, arguably, the biggest obstacle to language learning. If one simply dives in and tries to speak, one finds that the reward of that effort can be massive. A good friend, who will gently correct those mistakes, is worth their weight in gold.

What now?

I don't know what the future holds as far as my languages are concerned. I am beginning to feel though that I need to use more imagination and use the languages in my life. What that will look like, I don't know.

Does it mean leaving ordained ministry? Possibly, but also possibly not.

Does it mean potentially taking bold steps forward into the unknown. I suspect so.

One thing I do know though: I have to do more with my languages. I have to find a way to use them, other than watching lots of foreign TV, listening to foreign radio, reading foreign books.

Any advice would be much appreciated.

Thoughts on the current political scene

One or two people have sought to rebuke me for drawing comparisons between the political scene of the 1930s and today, one warning that it might cause offence. However, I cannot help but see the similarities. Yes, we live in a different era and the names are different. The details may well be different but I can't help thinking that we are creating a world so alike to the world of the 1930s. The difference being that this time we are the ones who are in danger of taking the wrong path.

Education is vitally important in all of this. Understanding of history is central: not just the details of the Second World War in particular, but also an understanding of the conditions that gave rise to forces like Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin. I don't pretend to have a deep understanding of all of this: all I can do is say what I see.

One of the problems, especially for the younger generations, is that the second world war is beginning to go out of living memory. I grew up with grandparents telling me stories from the Second World War. My grandfather told many stories about being in Austria, among other places, driving tanks and, of course, there are many stories he would not tell.

I have always loved the Diary of Anne Frank. I have copies in English and in Dutch and I have been to see the Anne Frank House twice, the second time with my daughter. Talking to my daughter after our visit, we agreed that the lesson we learn is that we should not be horrible to people because they have a different nationality, religion, or whatever the particular difference might be. If you read the diary, and then visit the house, you cannot help but weep when you stand in the room in which she slept and wrote, thinking about what would later happen.

When I was at university, I read the book Se questo è un uomo by Primo Levi, an Italian Jew who survived Auschwitz. His account is deeply moving, harrowing, as he describes his own experiences in Auschwitz. His book begins with a poem, which is worth repeating here:

Voi che vivete sicuri [You who live safely]
Nelle vostre tiepide case, [in your warm houses]

Voi che trovate tornando a sera [You who find, when you get home in the evening,]

Il cibo caldo e visi amici: [Warm food and friendly faces]

Considerate se questo è un uomo [Consider whether this is a man]
Che lavora nel fango [who works in the mud]
Che non conosce pace [who knows no peace]
Che lotta per mezzo pane [who fights for a chunk of bread]
 Che muore per un sí o per un no. [who dies for a 'yes' or a 'no']
Considerate se questa è una donna, [Consider whether this is a woman]
Senza capelli e senza nome [without hair and without name]
Senza più forza di ricordare [with no more strength to remember]
Vuoti gli occhi e freddo il grembo [empty her eyes and cold her womb]
Come una rana d'inverno. [like a toad in winter]
Meditate che questo è stato: [Meditate on the fact that this has been]
Vi comando queste parole. [I enjoin these words to you]
Scolpitele nel vostro cuore [Sculpt them in your heart]

Stando in casa andando per via, [at home or on the street]

Coricandovi alzandovi; [when you go to bed and when you get up]
Ripetetele ai vostri figli. [Repeat them to your sons and daughters]

O vi si sfaccia la casa, [or may your house fall down]
La malattia vi impedisca, [may illness hinder you]
I vostri nati torcano il viso da voi. [may those born to you turn their faces from you].

Powerful words that ought to penetrate our very hearts and meditate on what has happened in the past.

Or I can recall the experience of hearing and meeting a holocaust survivor--Arek was his name, if memory serves--and being moved by a very personal story.

Or the book I have just read--El violí d'Auschwitz [The Auschwitz Violin] by Maria Àngels Anglada--which tells the story of a Polish violin maker being made to make a violin at Auschwitz by his Commandant, to win a bet he had made with a doctor, and the nightmares that still haunt the violinist who first played it.

Of course, there are many, many more testimonies of that time that should move our hearts to horror and cause us to become watchmen/-women, vigilant against the forces of evil that can bring such suffering to people.

So yes, the Second World War was a long time ago and the world is very different now. The precise details may differ and yes, we may not have concentration camps or labour camps. It may not lead to that. I pray that it doesn't.

But when you hear of the detention camps that immigrants are being placed in in America--a so-called beacon of enlightenment and democracy and freedom--where children are separated from parents, you cannot help but see the similarities with testimonies of people arriving at Auschwitz. How and why are we not condemning these practices in America? How are they allowed to take place? How is such an abhorrent individual allowed to lead arguably the most powerful nation on earth?

Or we have Boris Johnson referring to Muslim women who wear the niqab as 'letterboxes', Africans as 'piccaninnies'. How is this acceptable? Can we not see what is going on? When confronted about the 'letterbox' thing, his defence was that ordinary people in Britain are fed up with being muzzled (i.e. not allowed to say what they like). So, we have a man who may well become our prime minister legitimising language that we thought we had moved on from. Ordinary people being given permission by the would-be prime minister to use racist and discriminatory language. From there, it is but a small step to the point at which people feel that they have permission to further victimise minority or immigrant groups. Now, this may not be Boris' intention, or Farage's, or the intention of any of that hateful crew, but that is what will happen.

And when Jacob Rees-Mogg was asked about it, his response was that we shouldn't be snowflakes, and then directly asked the reporter whether he was a snowflake. (If memory serves, it was a man.) Let's pick this apart: what Rees-Mogg was, in effect, doing was silencing voices that would speak against the would-be leader of our government, silencing those who would object, and ridiculing them. Again, people will follow his example and accuse those who object to what is going on of being 'snowflakes', ridiculing them as the huge numbers of disgruntled people feel that racist speech and action is legitimised.

So why am I drawing comparisons with the Second World War? Because this is how it starts, if my inadequate historical knowledge serves me well:

1. We experience a period in which a population perceives itself to be struggling.
2. We see leaders arise who promise to make their countries great again. (Putting the 'great' back into Great Britain, or 'making America great again'.)
3. We see organisations or groups blamed for the conditions in which we live. (The European Union, Muslims, people from Eastern Europe, Mexicans) Here it has to be noted that Trump has been far worse with this, referring to Mexicans as rapists and drug dealers.
4. We bring about a suspicion of 'experts' and institutions and the establishments who warn us against what we are doing, and tell ordinary people that we are giving them a voice.
5. We seek to separate ourselves from others in order, using ideas of sovereignty and national pride, to get people on side. (Brexit)
6. We form alliances with those who speak the same language. (Trump, Johnson. Trump having been very vocal about May not doing a good job and Johnson will be better.)

We don't yet know what happens from 7. onwards. But tell me this, how is this list not almost exactly like what happened after the First World War and brought about the Second?

Now, not everybody who voted for Brexit is bad, racist, or anything else. Not everybody who voted for Trump is evil either: in fact, much of the 'Christian' vote for Trump was around the issue of abortion, almost a single-issue vote. Not everybody who voted for Trump or Brexit would approve of the isolationist, xenophobic, or even racist language. But here's the thing: those who voted for Trump, those who voted for Brexit, those who will make Boris prime minister, those who will vote for the Conservative Party under Boris Johnson, those who will vote for the Brexit Party, will all be responsible for opening the door to a world in which we can create exactly the circumstances in which people like Hitler came to power.

The Germans were not, and are not, all evil people. The Germans in the 1930s would probably have been horrified if they had known what they would unleash under the Nazis. Even when I was a University student, in 1997, I remember meeting Germans who were still telling me that they were taught to be repentant about the Second World War, much like the Jürgen the German sketch that Harry Enfield was doing at the time. The Second World War didn't happen because all Germans, Italian, Russians, Japanese and whoever else were evil and racist: it happened because we opened to the door to those who were. The Holocaust happened because good people made the wrong choice because they couldn't see what they were doing.

Somebody warned me that my comments and comparisons might be offensive to people. GOOD! I hope that they are! I hope that what I and others like me say will cause offence because we need to be awakened from the stupor in which we seem to be living. We need to be called to open our eyes and see what we are creating.

Some would say that priests ought not to be political. But I with my fellow priests are called, by the words of the ordinal, to be 'messengers, watchmen...they are to teach and admonish...to guide through [the world's] confusions'. I made vows that I would do these things and so that is what I am doing.

I might be wrong about what we are creating. In fact, I hope and pray that I am. I pray that I won't, like that German I met, be apologising in 50 years time, if I am still alive, for the world that we will have created.

The Second World War happened because, in part, people kept silent. I will not keep silent. I will not be told to be careful about what I say in case people are offended. I will always speak out for truth and justice. I will always speak for the rights of the oppressed. Because, guess what, that appears to be exactly what Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ did. To him be glory and honour, now and to the ages of ages, Amen.

Sentipeopletality 1

I have just watched last week's episode of the Durrells. It is a programme that I have come to really enjoy. Part of the story line was the youngest son's crush on a local girl and the complicated emotions involved with that, especially when he sees her talking to another boy.

Sometimes I have moments of sentimentality and nostalgia. I was talking to somebody yesterday about the idea that we would not want to go back to being teenagers again.

Actually, as I was watching the Durrells, I started thinking that I would love to go back to those early teenage years, as feelings of attraction started to awaken (or perhaps a few years earlier), when a rejection, or simply being ignored, or not having the guts to do anything about it all was the end of the world. Conversely, any sign of mutual interest was like all your birthdays coming at once.

I wasn't a very confident teenager. I was very gifted, especially in languages and music, and I suppose I largely hid away in those things, and interacted with the world through those things. I spent most of my time living in a bubble. I had friends but I always somehow had the feeling that most of my life, and my true self, was hidden inside. I suppose that those sorts of feelings are pretty common for anybody at that age but I often admired, and envied people who seemed to be able to burst out of the bubble and jump into the world.

I remembered those feelings when I had crushes on people and I had quite a few of them. I will confess to having one particular crush through most of my teenage years but there were others too. I wish I could go back to those feelings sometimes. I wish I could relive those feelings of butterflies when a certain girl walked into the room. I wish I could remember the complete and utter fear that accompanied any idea of reaching out, or saying anything to any of my crushes. I generally didn't.

I wish I could go back and do things again. If I had a time machine, I would go back to those years and have a word with my younger self and tell myself that more people liked me than I thought, that I should have more courage, more (inter-personal) self-confidence.

I'd like to go back to the first time I clumsily and rather awkwardly at first held hands with a girl. I wish I could go back to my first kiss and relive it. I wish I could go back to those days when it was all a mystery and something to be discovered.

I suppose I have reached a point where I am beginning to feel more clearly that my vocation is to a life of singleness, perhaps it always was really. At this point in my life, it feels like I am discovering a gift and am only now beginning to see that it is a gift. The problem was that for so long I wanted the other gift, and tried taking it. But I don't think it was a gift meant for me. This doesn't make me sad. In fact, quite the opposite: I am feeling quite a lot of joy.

I do wish I could go back to those years though and experience those crushes again.

Easter Vigil Sermon 2019

[Please note that this was not scripted and I have had to try my best to transcribe it.]

Well, I don’t know about you but I am very tired. It has been a very intense week, a very emotional week, and I know it has been for many of you because you have told me so, and made me even more emotional.

When we got home from the Good Friday liturgy yesterday, I put on a film and it was The Passion of the Christ, the Mel Gibson film. I am very fond of that film because I watched it in the cinema on the day that something profound happened. I am not going to tell you about it but it was something profound. It was just me and two nuns in the cinema watching the film that day. If you haven’t seen it, it is a very moving, powerful, but very graphic depiction of what happened to Our Lord on Good Friday. I won’t embarrass her too much but my mum was very upset by the film. (Had I known she would be, I wouldn’t have put it on.)

It’s an amazing film and there is a wonderful scene where Jesus is brought into Caiaphas’ place to be questioned. There’s the moment where Peter denied Jesus three times and then Jesus, who has been beaten and is knocked to the floor looks at Peter and Peter looks at him, and Peter weeps and runs away. In running away he comes across Our Lady, Mary, the mother of Our Lord, Mary Magdalene and John, the beloved disciple. He goes to his knees on the floor and cries because he has betrayed Jesus. Mary, the mother of Our Lord reaches out to him and he says ‘No, Mother, I am not worthy because I have betrayed him.’ We don’t really know what happens to him immediately after that. But what we do know, the only record we have is of three people, Mary, the mother of Our Lord, Mary Magdalene, and the beloved disciple. (Plus a couple of other women in some accounts.)

The question I have got is ‘where were the others’? What happened to them because all we know is that they were in the Upper Room, they were in the Garden of Gethsemane and when Jesus was arrested they fled. Did they go back to the Upper Room? Were they hiding there? Because that’s where Jesus found them after his resurrection. What were they doing? What were they saying? Because they all, like us, were in the same boat, because they, like us turned their backs on Jesus like we turned our back on Jesus on Maundy Thursday, abandoning him in the darkness.

We left the Church in darkness and then, on Good Friday, we faced the stark Church, bare of decoration. And I know that for many of you it was a very emotional experience to come and venerate the cross. But what were the disciples doing? That’s the question. I want to know and I know that I will never find out but I am curious because we, like them, turned our backs.

But what do we do next? We come together in the night. We gather in the night to welcome the new light of Christ. Even though we have turned our backs on him, he is risen from the dead and he will never turn his back on us.

For those of you for whom, like me, it has been a very emotional week, this is the joy that finishes it because without that pain and without that emotion, without that realisation of how Christ suffered and how he was betrayed, how he bled, naked and thirsty for us, without that realisation we cannot have that joy, without that realisation, we cannot have the joy—truly have the joy—of Easter because otherwise we simply go from welcoming him in on Palm Sunday with shouts of ‘Hosanna’ to celebrating that he is risen. But what happened in between?

We are here and we are here to celebrate that risen life. I don’t know about you but, as we were listening to those vigil readings, which are long, and it can be uncomfortable to sit through, but they remind us of this story of salvation that has been going since long before we were even here. We step into it. We step into the story of salvation and celebrate the risen Christ.

All that suffering, all that pain, is gone.

If Jesus had simply died on the cross, it would have been worth nothing. Hundreds of people were crucified. Hundreds. If Jesus had simply dies, he would have just been one of those hundreds but the fact that he is risen from the dead, the fact that he has defeated that which none of us can defeat, means that our hope is restored. Our faith is restored and, whatever we have been through, we can enter into that new life.

We are now going to reaffirm our baptismal promises. This is the moment in which we stand and we say ‘I want to enter into that new life’ and the holy water will be liberally sprinkled on each of you as you do so.

Let us stand and enter into that new life.