THE MAN WHO HAD IT ALL AND KEPT IT TO HIMSELF!

Last Saturday I was in a small provincial town and I saw a crowd gathered around a bookstall on the side of the road.  Of course, I joined them.  I can never resist the lure of a book, particularly a children’s book. 

To my delight, I spied a secondhand copy of a book written for children by Oscar Wilde.  “I bet it’s got ‘The Selfish Giant’ in it,”  I thought to myself.  That was my all-time favourite story as a child, and it still is! I opened it eagerly. There it was in the centre of the book, illustrated with a very, very cross giant, outside his garden,  threatening the children who used to play there during his long absence visiting the Cornish ogre.

“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

“MY OWN GARDEN IS MY OWN GARDEN,  ANYONE CAN UNDERSTAND THAT!” HE MUTTERED.  “I WILL ALLOW NOBODY TO PLAY IN IT BUT MYSELF.”

So he built a high wall all around it, and put up a big notice:

 

TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

 

                                                                                                                              

He was a very selfish giant.

The poor children had nowhere to play.  It was too dangerous in the road, and too dirty in the lanes, so they were very sad.

They said to each other: “How happy we were there!”  And they went away.

I’m sure you know what happened next.  Spring came. All over the country there were beautiful blossoms and early flowers.  The birds sang their delight at the return of Spring, but in the Selfish Giant’s garden it was still Winter! The birds didn’t want to sing in that garden because the children were banned from it, and the trees forgot to blossom. The only ones who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.  “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried. “So we will live here all the year round!”

So the snow covered all the ground with her white mantle,,  and the Frost painted all the trees silver.. Then they invited the North Wind, and he roared all day about the garden.  And he blew the chimney pots down.

Then the Hail came. He broke most of the slates in the roof because he rattled for three hours every day, and went round and round the garden as fast as he could!  He was all dressed in grey and his breath was like ice.

“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late! “ said the Selfish Giant. “I hope there will soon be a change in the weather.”

But it never came, and Summer and Autumn kept away too. Autumn gave lovely fruits to every garden except his. “He is too selfish”  she said.

SO IT WAS ALWAYS WINTER THERE (and never Christmas!)

One day the Selfish Giant, all wrapped in furs, looked out at his cold, white garden, and he saw something wonderful. All the Winter things had stopped, and he heard beautiful music.

What did he see?

Through a little hole in the wall, the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees.  All the trees were so glad that they blossomed and the birds were flying about twittering with delight.

Only in one corner it was still Winter. A little boy was crying . He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering round it, crying bitterly.

“Oh, that poor boy!” the Giant said (he was no longer selfish because his heart had melted) and he hurried down to the garden and lifted the little boy into the tree. But the other children were frightened when they saw the giant, and they ran away, and the garden became Winter again.

“Now I know why there has been no Spring in my garden”  the giant said. “How selfish I have been!  I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.”

He kept his promise, and the children played with him in the garden which became the most beautiful one in the district.

But the giant always looked for the little boy whom he had put in the tree. He never came back, and the Giant was so sad.  He longed to see him, for he loved him best of all.

One Winter evening he looked out of his window as he was dressing.  Suddenly he rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. In the furthest  corner of the garden was a tree covered with beautiful white blossom, even though it was Winter. Underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.

So he ran downstairs with great joy, and hastened across the grass to the child. But when he got close, his face went all red with anger. He said:  

“WHO HAS DARED TO WOUND THEE?  TELL ME WHO HE IS AND I WILL KILL HIM!”

For on the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on his feet.

“No”, said the Child. “ these are the wounds of love.”

“Who are you?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

The Child smiled at the Giant and said to him:

“You once let me play in your garden. Today you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”

When the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

Giants are often used in folklore to portray wicked , selfish or powerful people who bully others.  Here we have a portrait of one who met Christ, and became transformed through love.

He came in contact with the innocence and simple happiness of children, and his own heart was changed by them. 

Jesus promised us through the prophet Ezechiel:

“I will give you a heart of flesh, and take away your heart of stone."

Children usually have hearts of flesh.  They respond to love like sunflowers opening up to the sun   They don’t remember past hurts unless they are taught to be bitter.  Bitterness is not a child-like virtue.  Trust and love are.  They are only crushed out by insensitive adults.   

Jesus told the apostles that, in order to get to Heaven, we must become child-like.

The selfish giant learned the lesson.

Can we?                                                                                                

 

The Resurrection

A happy Easter to all of you!  We have journeyed through Lent, and experienced the loneliness and the fear of the Passion, as well as the heart-warming act of Jesus as Servant, washing the feet of his disciples, and then giving us the wonderful gift of the Eucharist.  I suppose many of you celebrated the Seder meal, and became part of the first New Testament Seder, picturing Jesus going out into the darkness towards Gethsemane with the beautiful sound of the Hallel psalms ringing in his ears, yet knowing he was betrayed and soon would be captured and disowned.  But now we are warming ourselves, not at the brazier of Peter which just took away for a time the cold winds of fear and guilt, but the great sun of the Resurrected world.  Alleluia!

May I share with you another Resurrection?  I’m sure you have many of your own, which I would love to hear, but I’ve always been captivated by this one. Please send in your own stories of hope after despair.  Jesus offers us the fruits of his rising from the dead all the time. 

Here is my contribution:

An old man shuffled painfully along the cobbled streets of London.  He was stooped, awkward and obviously in pain. His face was pale and there were lines of pain etched deeply on his cheeks.  People passed him by, avoiding his eyes which seemed bitter and hard.  His name was George Frederic Handel.  The great musician of the 18^th century.  He had suffered a stroke some months before, and doctors held out little hope of his survival. “I am finished!” he said to himself. “I can no longer compose music.  I cannot hear those wonderful melodies in my head.  Point and counterpoint harmony no longer have any meaning for me.  I might as well die!”  Despondently he shuffled back to his lodgings.

When he got there he found a thick wad of paper rolled in a parcel standing on the hall table.  “Not another MS”, he muttered. “Will they never realise that I am no longer a musician?”  Listlessly he picked it up.  It was from his friend who had always supported him, so, listlessly he tore open the paper.  It was the story of the life of Christ.   He read on, without much interest, until he saw this:

“.. the crowds were appalled at seeing him, so disfigured did he look, that he seemed no longer human,… “   “Like a sapling he grew up in front of us, like a root in arid ground. Without beauty, without majesty we saw him no looks to attract our eyes, a thing despised and rejected by men. A man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. A man to make people screen their faces. He was despised, and we took no account of him.”   Fourth Servant Song:  Isaiah 52: 11 – 15.

“Why, that’s me!” he cried, “I am despised and of no account too!”  So, fascinated, he read on.

Afterwards he was to say:  “I saw the heavens open and I heard the most beautiful music.  Words poured into my mind.  “He was despised and rejected yet by his wounds we are healed.  I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVETH” he cried exultingly at the four walls of his hallway.  ALLELUIA!  For ten days he never came out of his room, refusing to eat or drink.  But he gave us The Messiah.  His greatest work.  The most famous oratorio in the world. 

London refused to put it on, as they thought he was finished.  So he went to Dublin, and they gave us “Oh thou who bringest good tidings to Sion”  “He was despised”  “I know that my redeemer liveth”  and of course the famous Alleluia chorus.  And so many more.... Handel lived on for some years after this, and became the most feted musician of the time.  Everywhere he went, he brought the portfolio of The Messiah.  It was his Resurrection. 

What are your experiences of Resurrection?  Thank God for them today, and go about humming “Alleluia, alleluia, alle- luia!"  Enjoy this wonderful time - the Springtime of the Church and ours too.

God bless.

Lady Day

In Medieval England the 25^th March was called “Lady Day”. It was a special day when the people celebrated the happiness of Mary on saying ‘yes’ to becoming the Mother of God.  It was kept as a special holiday, because, of course, this was the England that was called the Dowry of Mary.  Her special place.  Children brought nosegays of flowers and placed them before her statue on wayside shrines; there were special Masses and afterwards games and dancing in her honour. 

It is no coincidence that today we keep Mother’s Day very close to what used to be called Lady Day.  It too is a celebration of motherhood, a day of thanksgiving, fun and laughter.  A day when we remember with a smile all that our mothers and grandmothers did for us.   A day of happiness and a celebration of the gift of life.

The feast that we call the Annunciation is the greatest feast of the Poor Servants of the Mother of God.  Mother Magdalen always celebrated it as the moment when the hearts of Jesus and Mary became one.  From her earliest years she was captivated by the wonder of the moment when the young Mary of Nazareth was left alone after the visit of the Angel Gabriel. This was the moment which has changed our world for ever – the moment when our little planet received into its fold the God who had made the heavens and the earth and all they contained, as a tiny, pulsating embryo in the womb of a young teenage girl.  The moment when time and eternity became one – “the still point of the turning world” as later theologians were to call it.

Mother Magdalen wanted us to reach out to that stillness of eternity as we contemplate this special moment, and try to think about what was happening – God himself breaking into our world to share our pain and loneliness and vulnerability, but also to be part of our joys and laughter.  She wanted us to see it as the greatest act of love this world of ours has ever seen, or will see. The Incarnation is all about love.  This stupendous act of love brought with it light and life and beauty to a world grown dark and despairing and sinful.  She wanted us to experience the wrapping round of the Holy Spirit on Mary after her ‘yes’.  In the Old Testament, if you remember, the Holy Spirit journeyed with those weary pilgrims of Moses and Aaron in the form of a cloud by day and a flame of fire by night.  In the daytime, the Israelites wandering in the desert, were also enveloped or wrapped around by the presence of the Holy Spirit to comfort them and to give them new life and hope.  This time, the enveloping literally brought new life as the unawakened womb of Mary received the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity into its depths.

Mary, at the age of fifteen or so, was the first woman ever to be totally overshadowed by the “power of the Most High” as the Angel Gabriel put it.  She allowed the Holy Spirit to come close to her when she said “Be it done to me according to your word” – words that we say often in the Angelus. But we forget that they were uttered first by a young girl from a despised Jewish village, a girl who was to face the censure of the people of Nazareth for what they judged to be a scandalous happening – a well-brought up girl becoming pregnant when she was unmarried, and as a result, facing the public humiliation of being sent away in disgrace or worse.  

Mother Magdalen always talked of the Incarnation in terms of love, and of course that is what it is. She loved to think of the hearts of Jesus and Mary joined together in the womb: “Let us ponder what it means” she would say. 

So we ask the Holy Spirit at this special time to help us to understand this mystery and to experience its warming, comforting love for each of us. We pray that we will make a response to “that love which first loved us” in the way we treat one another.

Have a happy feast on Monday – Lady’s Day.  We will pray for each of you on our special day.

The end of our 140th year is a celebration of thanksgiving!



This is the official end of the year-long celebrations to mark the 140^th year of our foundation.  On Saturday we are celebrating a special Mass to gather together the riches of the year. 

Frances Taylor
(Mother Magdalen)

Mother Magdalen made her Vows for life on February 12^th, 1872, and so we became a recognised Religious Congregation in the Church.  Soho was one of the places that we started in.  The Sisters used to visit the poor there, especially the women, many of whom were prostitutes.  It was then a violent place, where few ventured out alone, especially after dark.  Even the police went in threes, and the doctor, frequently called out to the dens and crumbling tenements of the area, also made sure that he never went alone.  Only the Sisters were allowed the freedom of going about without escort, as they were respected for the work they did among the poor, and were generally received with friendliness. 

Every Saturday night, Mother Magdalen assembled as many of her Sisters from around London as she could to pray for the people in Soho, especially for those who were violent and abusive.  Outside, as these young women prayed, they could hear the shouts, the ribald comments, the screams and fights that were commonplace especially on Saturday nights, the effects of drunkenness and obscenity. This is what they offered to the Lord for his forgiveness and blessing.  It became a custom to have a Holy Hour there amid such scenes of hopelessness and depravity, and it is in some way,  still carried on today. 

On Saturday, we will have a special Mass in which we shall remember everyone.  As there is limited room, we cannot have an open invitation, and places are already booked. But please pray with us and for us from 2 o’clock onwards on Saturday, 11^th February.  We will tell you all about it in our next blog, so watch this space!  Thank you for taking the time to read this. Let's say a short prayer together:

Father, we thank you for the wonderful blessings you have given to us since our foundation in 1872.  Today, we ask that our prayer may reach out to all those who are lonely, unhealed, frightened, abused.  May they find friends who will help them in the same way as those who sought healing and wholeness in this place so long ago, found support, friendship and love.  May your peace come down on this celebration, to bind all of us, those present, and those who are part of our large family of friends, supporters and  co-workers, in a circle of love which no one can break.  We ask Mary, our Mother and our best friend to protect us, console us, heal us and make us better people.  We ask this through Jesus Christ, our Lord.  Amen.

Bless you all, and again, thank you for the great strength of your prayers and friendship.  We appreciate it more than you can imagine.

I leave you with some inspirational words from Mother Magdalen. Click on the picture for more animations every 12 seconds.

Birthday of a Victorian Lady

Today, 20^th January, is the 180^th birthday of Frances Taylor, the Foundress of the Poor Servants of the Mother of God.  She was born in 1832, a special year in many ways in the history of this country.  It was then that people began to realise that the slave trade mightn’t be a good thing, that reforms were needed in the law, the army, the way people were treated.  It is often called the year of change.  Of course as you know, change takes place slowly, and it took many years before any of these proposals which came before the Parliament of the time, were looked at, still less changed.  Yet it was interesting that matters of justice and the way we treat one another were brought to the public arena at that time. I say this because Frances Taylor seemed to be imbued with a passion for justice and a conviction that the way we treat one another has far-reaching consequences, not only for ourselves, but for the world. 

She was born in a vicarage in a small village in Lincolnshire called Stoke Rochford.  Her father, Henry Taylor, was the Rector of three parishes in the district, and was known as a very prayerful and upright man, while his wife, Maria, was a woman who seemed to radiate love and compassion, especially for those who were sick, lonely or old.  Frances was the youngest of ten children, and spent an ideal childhood having no school to go to, as it wasn’t then compulsory to attend one of those rather forbidding institutions which were all that was available at the time.  She was taught at home by her parents and by her older sisters, but she herself said in later years “I wasn’t over-burdened with lessons!”   She had plenty of freedom to roam about the lanes surrounding her home, and a chance to poke into those interesting hedgerows and woodlands as well as to try her hand at fishing in the local stream.  As well as that, she made up stories of adventure which she told to the village children, weaving a piece of string in and out of her fingers as she unwound the plot for them.  No wonder she became a writer in later years!

She went with her mother to visit all the parishioners who were sick, lonely or unable to get about, and she told them stories too, making them laugh as she took out of her basket the goodies provided by her mother, freshly-baked bread from the big kitchen in the Rectory, fruit and vegetable from their own gardens and things like that.  It was a lesson that Frances learned early on – that life isn’t always rosy, and that many people are poor and lonely.  She remembered this when many years later she founded her own Congregation of Sisters. She was to say when in old age herself, “I never forgot the lessons my mother taught me in childhood”.  That’s nice isn’t it?  I suppose most of us can say that now that we have learned some wisdom!

When she was ten, her father died, and of course the family had to move away as the house went with the job as they say. So they went to relatives in London, feeling very lonely and heart-broken after their Father’s death.   But the years in London were good.  You’ll know what Victorian London was like if you have read any of Charles Dicken’s books, and of course you have read them all!  It was noisy, dirty, exciting, dangerous and like no other place on earth!  But Frances noticed the poor, and the contrasts between the haves and have-nots.   In a way, she was already forging her future.

When she was 22 she went to the Crimea and worked in Scutari Hospital under Florence Nightingale.  This was to be a life-changing experience for her.  “No one” she was to say later, "could have prepared me for the horror of war !”  The Crimean War has gone down in history as the most mis-managed, the most tragic, the most inhumane of recent times,  yet it brought Frances many blessings.  Looking at the sufferings of these young men, many of them not much more than teenagers, brought out in her the most profound compassion.  The faith of the Irish soldiers, in particular, and their courage in dying a pain-filled and unjust death was to be the spur which made her look calmly and dispassionately at her own faith.  They were never to know it, but their example was to change her life.  She  became a Catholic in the Easter of 1855, having been instructed by Fr. Woollet who was staying in Koulali where she was working, while he was waiting to be called to the Front.  To leave the Church of England, and to ‘go over to Rome’ as they put it then, was a risky thing to do.  There was a lot of prejudice around, and she was to find out how lonely life could be for a newly converted Catholic when she returned to London later that year.

 But she was fortunate in getting to know Fr.Manning. Many years later, as Cardinal Manning of Westminster, he was to become one of her chief supporters in her work as the Foundress of a new Congregation. He was then parish priest of St. Mary’s Bayswater, where  she went to Mass.  He too was a convert from Anglicanism, and he understood how Frances felt.  There were people who really thought that if you converted to Catholicism you were damned, as you were unfaithful to the religion in which you were born.  That was very hard to take as she loved the Anglican Church in which she had been brought up, but she knew God had called her into the Catholic Church for reasons of his own.  But it was a lonely place to be.

Fr. Manning showed Frances the other side of the great, glittering, successful city of London –  he took her to the places where the poor lived or rather, existed.  Dirty, fetid, unhealthy rooms  where rats scurried about, and children died of terrible diseases.  He showed her the workhouses of Marylebone and St. Pancras, where she visited twice a week, giving those poor fragmented people hope because she bothered to listen to them and to speak for them, instead of merely giving them a little help, then departing to shrug off their problems in the enjoyment of her own busy life.

Soon she realised that she couldn’t do all this alone, so she gathered around her like-minded women and that was the beginning of our story.  We started in a small room in Tower Hill in 1869 with four women including herself.  We became a recognised Religious Congregation when Frances made her vows for life in February 1872. She called us Servants, people who listen, people who are willing to go about the miserable, mean streets and alleyways of our big cities, and bring to the poor  whatever comfort they could.  One of our first missions was in Soho. The Sisters worked in the red-light district with the prostitutes, and eventually Frances, who was now called Mother Magdalen, invited those who wished to train for employment which would provide an income without having recourse to prostitution. She provided buildings which were attractive, with rooms full of light and colour and warmth.  Here she taught these poor women new skills:  boot making, lace-making, laundry work, and printing. In fact,  anything that she could think of that would be useful and help to put food on the table.

She  wanted us to be a voice for those who could not speak for themselves, so that they would get justice, she hoped that we would, like her, reverence each human person, give them the dignity they deserved as children of God, and, like Therese of Lisieux, try to be the ones who put love into the world we live in.

 Are you glad a person like that was born?  As we say ‘Happy birthday’ today, we pray for all those who never have a birthday to remember, who never experience love.  Have a good day, and pray to Mother Magdalen won’t you?  She will help you, especially on her birthday.  Who wouldn’t do that, if asked?  

Bless you. And thank you for taking the time to read this! See our websites and Facebook links on the right panel for more information.

Happy birthday, too, for all those whose birthday it is today.  May you have a happy, fulfilled, useful life as she did, and may she be your special friend from now on.