I Am Said I (Huruma)

I see his blood upon the rose And in the stars the glory of his eyes, His body gleams amid eternal snows, His tears fall from the skies.  I see his face in every flower; The thunder and the singing of the birds a re but his voice— and carven by his power Rocks are his written words.  All pathways by his feet are worn, His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea, His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn, His cross is every tree. ‘The Presence Of God’ by Joseph Mary Plunkett, one of the martyrs of the 1916 Rising whose marriage to Grace Gifford took place in prison hours before his execution. I was in that prison chapel, looked into their cells, read his beautiful letter of proposal to her, saw the lovely Madonna and Child which she painted on her cell wall and her wedding ring. The Presence of God is so palpable in the reality and complexities of the human experience, the human struggle for liberation, even in situations where He seems ...

New Evangelization is all the talk in the Church now and I’m a bit tired of it, somewhat suffocated by its relentless demand for new ways of doing things. I’ve tried many things and none of them seem to work in the sense that none of them endure or last for long enough. We evangelize by the essence of who and how we are. We evangelize by presence, a presence that is a living, personal experience of Jesus Christ. Sometimes who and how we are is not pleasant at all and would not seem to be very valuable in the work of evangelization. Sometimes even our experience of God is very unpleasant and all the joy of the gospel that is being demanded of us is utterly impossible. In a reflection on the authority of Peter, Hans Urs von Balthasar speaks about the position one must occupy in leadership. “ The lowest place, which is where the servus servorum (servant of the servants) must stand, the place of final contempt and insult, the rubbish-heap on which one is ‘a worm and not a ...

There are many passages in the Bible that resonate within me, words that express the meaning of life as I experience it. One is the from chapter 3 of St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians in which he speaks of the "supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord" I have known that supreme advantage in my own life. Knowing Jesus personally is a singular blessing; it is a relationship which gives meaning to everything, the relationship in which I am truly and most fully myself. It is He who makes the struggles of life bearable. It is in Him that my problems find resolution. In particular I find the freedom to stand in His presence as a sinner in need of mercy; it is in Him that I experience the forgiveness that I need. To be in need of forgiveness is a holy and healthy position to be in. The Pharisees in John chapter 8 reveal a common human tendency to focus on the sins or faults of another, to hide behind the sins of another, presenting ourselves as being ...

I fear My love Is a morning Cloud In arid land A vapour  Vanishing Were my body Tortured I fear My love For You Would fail As in the face Of lesser pain I have  Denied You  And betrayed Covertly

The Lord consoles his people and takes pity on those who are afflicted. For Zion was saying "The Lord has abandoned me, the Lord has forgotten me". But does a woman forget her baby at the breast, or fail to cherish the child of her womb? Yet even if these forget, I will never forget you. See I have carved you on the palms of my hands. Once more they will speak in your hearing; those children you thought were lost. You shall know that I am the Lord and that those who hope in me will not be put to shame. (Isaiah 49) +++ In the chapel of rest where Sophie is laid out there’s a picture of Jesus bent over in agony and standing over him is the angel of consolation but Jesus doesn’t see the angel, doesn’t feel any consolation or comfort. In front of me her parents are bent over the coffin of their beautiful four-year-old daughter, bent over in the agony of grief. The sound of their sorrow, the sight of their tears! There is no sorrow greater than this, a sorrow that cannot be consol...

Henry blows up Forgotten leaves Of Autumn Tossing them In my bathroom Window The first day Of Spring I throw them Out again To whatever Ending awaits Henry is the latest In a list Of alphabetical Storms Leaves are memories Of sorrow Old wounds That I have Put to bed And need not Entertain

While I am thinking Of the moon Waxing lyrical In its striving To emerge Through cloud Again The boy inside a man Desperately needs To break Out of the dark Room of an ancient Wound He questions The recall of his Mind Emotional Memory Is Without doubt Convulsing In its honesty Bursting Into tears When the movie tells A story like his own Assaulting Every involuntary Fibre of him Compulsing I pray the prayer He cannot say Express a hope He cannot feel Beg God Put forth Your arm in strength On his behalf How long The wounded Wait The mounting years Too many I am helpless Beneath the sundered Sky Jet blackness Set against A kind radiance Silver lining Of the night Behold she comes Bright brilliance Low, lopsided, lovely The moon as mother Appears Beacon of a goodness That might prevail And not fail again