A great cloud of witnesses

That is what Scripture calls those who have gone before us into that world of light and life that we call eternity.  During the month of November we pray for the souls of those who died and we also thank God for the things that we remember about them, little things maybe that make us smile and remember with love. 

 

 

We think of the journey  through life that these people have travelled, much of it with us and we reach out to them in gratitude for the witness of their earthly lives.  People who die, we believe, do not go from us, but are part of the communion of saints, part of us still.  That is very consoling isn't it?  Our faith teaches us that they pray for us still and we certainly ought to pray for and with them.  If they do not need our prayers to be released from Purgatory because they are already with God in Heaven, then we are taught that those prayers or Masses will be used for someone else who needs them. 

Sometimes people say to us:  "What a dreary month November is!"  We don't like the short days and dark evenings which we get in this part of the world at that time.  But November is a lovely month - a month of hopefulness in the promises of our God.  Jesus promised us life - life in all its fullness both in this world and certainly in the life to come. 

 

The Resurrection event is not a one-off happening - one day, Jesus promised us, we will all be part of that wonderfully changed life. "I am the Resurrection and the Life" Jesus assured us, "those who believe in me will not die but will live - they shall not hunger nor thirst, for the Lamb standing in front of the throne will feed them and be their shepherd." So says the Book of Revelation or the Apocalypse as it was called. 

Read Chapter 19 or Chapter 21 of this last Book of the New Testament.  These Chapters are about the vision of Heaven that St. John was given.  They are so wonderful and give us a glimpse of what it must be like, although our words are inadequate to describe the happiness of those who have won through and are part of the "great cloud of witnesses" around us.

 John describes the sight and sound of Heaven.

He heard:

 

"the great sound of a huge crowd in Heaven singing: 'Alleluia, victory and glory and power to our God."  Then a voice came from the throne, it said 'Praise our God all you his servants, and all those, great and small who revere him'. And I seemed to hear the voices of a huge crowd like the sound of the ocean, or the great roar of thunder answering: 'Alleluia, the reign of our God, the almighty has begun!  Let us be glad and joyful and give praise to God, for this is the time for the marriage of the Lamb". John was told to write down this: 'Happy are those who are invited to the marriage feast of the Lamb!" Revelation Chapater 19.

Then he saw with his mortal eyes a vision of Heaven where 'God lives with mankind. He will make his home among us, they shall be his people, and he shall be their God., and he will wipe away all tears from their eyes, there shall be no more death no more mourning or sadness. The world of the past has gone.'

And what was Heaven like?  Well, full of light and beauty.

"The gates are never shut, and there is no night there, the city did not need the sun or moon to light it, sincer it was lit by the radiant glory of the Lamb of God."

How wonderful - no sadness, no darkness, no fear, no pain.  Only joy and singing and dancing for ever!!

By the way,  Chapter 21 also says that the walls are made up of diamonds and precious stones, and inlaid with pure gold 'transparent like glass' -  This is what God has prepared for those who love him. 

So, to remember that, and to re-read it in the Bible, fills us with joy.  November, then is a month when we get glimpses of Heaven, beside mists, cold, rain and dark nights this side of eternity. 

We all remember those who have left us for this eternal home.  We thank God for them and ask them to look after us.  We light candles to remind us of their lives which are now flames of love and life, and we say "Alleluia!" with them.  Praise God.

 

Have a good November for what is left of it, and then look forward to how it all began here on earth - the lovely feast of the Incarnation.  Take care.

 

 

 

 

There is a Place - Liam Lawton

 

 

Forgiving those who have hurt us

In the Gospel today, we have heard all about forgiveness, determination, finding and losing.  It’s also about the joy of finding.  I know what that is because I’m always losing things, but this was much more than that.  It was about finding peace and joy through forgiveness; it was about repentant sinners coming back to God.  I loved it.

Let me tell you about one repentant sinner who came back to God. This took place many years ago when I was a child, and it actually happened through someone in our parish.

I wasn’t allowed at that time to read lurid headlines in the press, so this is secondhand knowledge. My mother believed that our minds should not be clogged up by bad things when we were too young to understand them.  St. Paul would have loved my mother. Remember, he told the Phillippians to fill their minds with everything that was good?  Well, that was my mother too. So when this terrible thing happened to one of our neighbours, and a friend of ours, I wasn’t aware of it  at first, even though I went to the shop for the Sunday paper and it was all on the front page!!

It gradually became a topic of conversation with the women around the district, and of course I picked it up!  It was terrible.  The eldest daughter of the family was murdered violently in London, and the police were seeking the murderer.  She was the housekeeper for an exiled European king, and moved in exalted circles. 

But there was political unrest and a man apparently broke into their quarters in Knightsbridge or somewhere like that, and shot this young woman dead in the general melee. Why,  I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. We didn’t know her as she was much older and had left home many years before. But she was local, and we all knew the family.  They were lovely, and it was a terrible sorrow for them. The whole area was agog with the horror of it.

Eventually someone was charged with her murder, tried and condemned to death.  In those days they still had the death penalty for murder.  Everyone breathed a sigh of relief that at least something had been done to find justice for Mary’s death. All that is, except one person – her mother.

 She was in her sixties,  I think. You aren’t good at ages when you’re young are you, but she must have been, because they had a large family; quite a few of them grown-up and independent of the family.  This woman who came from a small village in the North of Ireland, and had probably not moved out much from the big family house she had in Liverpool, decided she was going to visit her daughter’s murderer who was awaiting his execution in Pentonville prison. And that is what she did.

She had to fight her way through all the red tape to get there.  Eventually permission was granted, but of course she would have been closely guarded there in case she had come for her own version of justice!  But what she told this condemned man was that she and the family forgave him unreservedly for Mary’s death, that they did not hold it against him even though it was absolutely devastating for them, and that they would pray for him.. He wept and reputedly, so did she. 

 Before his death  I think he came back to God.  It took an elderly lady with no knowledge of London or the prison system of the time to bring that about.

She never got recognition for it, as far as I know, but she didn’t ask for it, or need it. 

She had God’s approval, and that is all that mattered.  When I saw those moving pictures of the late Pope with his would-be-murderer, I thought of that lady too. Aren’t we blessed with wonderful role models, in spite of all the bad things we hear.  Have a good week!

 

Remember to listen!

We were talking about listening and someone said, "You never let me finish what I want to say!"  Oh dear, what a common thing that is!  It set me thinking of how often I had not listened, but started to assemble my defence when the other person was talking!  Or I had interrupted her saying "Oh, I know exactly what you mean!" Of course I didn't know at all, it was just a way of putting in my oar.

I remember well the first time that I realised that I am not a good listener.  It was the first day of term in a busy Primary School in the West of England.  There was a three-classroom Infants' School and a four-classroom Junior school which was called St. Mary's.  I had never taught what we called Infants then.  My experience, admittedly small, was with older children. 

It had been a glorious Summer, the sun had shone every day in the holidays, and we began to get used to those long, lazy days which provided an excuse to snatch an hour or two in the garden.  But, on the first day of term it poured! I had over forty rising fives in the class.  Those were the days!  They came into the class along with their mothers and the Headteacher who helped me settle a little of the chaos, putting bright blue blazers and macs on the right pegs, and helping the younger ones to change into what they called 'daps' - another word for plimsolls. 

The day went reasonably well, but I decided to start the 'going home' process early as all were bussed to school, this being a rural area.  I managed to get them all into their blazers and macs, and I then looked with foreboding at the long line of wellingtons.  There were a few who had no names printed on the inside rim.  So I started with the lower end and gradually worked my way around the class, telling those who were dressed to sit down in a circle on the floor, ready for a story.  I got to the final few without incident, then I saw a big boy called Michael reaching for a pair of wellies that were smallish, tight-looking and, I thought, definitely not his!  He said what I had dreaded: "These aren't my wellies! "

 

All right Michael," I cut in quickly, "take them off "(I had spent at least five minutes trying to squeeze him into them). He started to say "But Sister.." and I silenced him. "Be quiet Michael, we'll sort it out!"  Looking round, I couldn't see any his size, but I said the only thing I could say.  "Children, take off your wellingtons, and we'll check them to see if you have the right ones." Instant hullaballoo... forty odd pairs of wellies all over the floor. The Head of Infants' came in to see what was the matter, and together we checked and then re-dressed the four-year-olds.  All of them had the same ones on. 

 

Michael, with a red face was shouting something at me.  "These aren't my wellies but...  "You'll have to take them," I said grimly, "we haven't any more!"  "I'm trying to tell you, but you won't listen!" he said.  "They are my brother's but Mum said I was to wear them and she'll get me a new pair tomorrow!!"  As he hobbled on to the bus, I looked at the other teacher,  she burst into laughter, but I felt more like crying.  It was true, I didn't listen, and we nearly missed the school bus.

 

Lesson:     Always let the other person finish before you have your say!

Have a nice end of Autumn, and be careful of the fireworks!